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straykeedz · 4 months

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9𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦 ; 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 @astraysimp, "9 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠"!

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

🏷️: @mellhwang ; @autumn583 ; @hyunsvngs ; @hotchnrz ; @galamxy ; @ebbaskz ; @turtledove824 ; @galaxycatdrawz ; @fawnpeaks ; @bigsobs4skz ; @143lix ; @bangchans-babygirl ; @aaasia111 ; @reid-deiri ; @tenshimara ; @dancerachaslut ; @peachygirlsthings ; @saturnandgold ; @justscrollinthrough ; @jesuisstay ; @shinywolfbears ; @lewoh-ot8-wh0re ; @alnex05 ; @mixtape-racha ; @shujohajohaminnie ; @heartheartisa ; @skzstaykatsy ; @manuosorioh ; @whosanaanyway ; @cvntywonyo ; @lilinaskzz ;♡

𝐭𝐰:𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 ; 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐯 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭!!!) ; 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 ; 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 ; 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞 ;

𝐰𝐜: 3,3 𝐤

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

As soon as he opens the door you’re jumping on him, crashing your lips on his.

It’s always like this between you - you can’t get enough of each other, always so hungry for each other’s body. You put your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, and Chan is quick to wrap his strong arms around your waist as you’re practically making out on his doorstep for the whole neighborhood to see. You kick the door closed, and the both of you are startled by the sound of the door closing with a loud thud, but neither of you pulls away from the other’s lips.

Chan runs his tongue along your lower lip, and you part your lips to welcome it inside your mouth. Making out with him always leaves you breathless and has you dripping, and tonight is no exception - your panties feel sticky already, and he hasn’t even touched you properly. You suck in a breath when he pins you against the door. His lips move to kiss you on the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck as you pant and sigh, grinding your hips on his desperately, looking for some friction.

He’s already rock hard, and you hold back a moan when you feel the outline of his dick press on the sweet spot between your thighs. “Chris…” you whine, and he huffs. You can’t see him, but his eyes roll in the back of his head in ecstasy when he hears you calling him by his English name, “bedroom.”

He’s busy sucking on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, but his cock twitches in his pants nonetheless. In that moment, he lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, you want him as much as he wants you, as much as he needs you. “Bedroom,” he confirms, nodding vehemently.

Chan kicks his bedroom door closed the same way you’d done before, even though there’s no need to, really - he lives alone, therefore you’re sure nobody is going to interrupt you. However, he believes this way it’s more romantic, more intimate, even though it’s not the point of your encounter. You’re both here looking for sexual gratification, for an orgasm or a few of them, nothing more, nothing less.

At least, you are here for this reason - Chan… he makes love to you every time.

He’s gentle when he drops you onto his mattress, and you can’t help but notice he’s changed his sheets and opted for your favorite - soft, and of a greyish color that matches his room well. Moreover, they feel really good against your skin - they don’t itch all over your body as he pounds into you, fucking your sweaty body into the mattress. It’s silly, but you’re happy he remembered.

“You remembered,” you chuckle, running your fingers all over the soft fabric.

Chan takes off his black hoodie, and he’s left in just a plain, white tank top. You can clearly make out the darker, circular shape of his nipples, and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around them, one at a time. You can’t help but notice that he’s gotten a bit buffer too - his biceps are more defined, and you believe that tank top is secretly hiding his six pack.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I threw the other ones away. Literally, they’re in the trash now.”

“What? Why? You didn’t have to throw away your sheets just because I don’t like them, Chris,” you say, and a shiver runs down his spine.

With one swift motion, his sweats are on the ground as well, pooling at his ankles. He’s wearing just his boxers now. Black, as per usual. “Didn’t like them either,” he shrugs, climbing back on the bed, body hovering over yours. “Besides,” he leans in to whisper the following words in your ear, “they were ruined anyways after what you did that day.”

That being squirting three times in a row, falling apart under Chan’s fingers and cock and his amused gaze. By the end of the night, said sheets were completely drenched in your multiple releases, and apparently never got back to normal.

“It was your fault,” you whimper when you feel Chan kissing a precise spot behind your ear, swirling his tongue around your earlobe immediately after. You arch your back and spread your legs instinctively, ready to welcome his body between your legs.

“It was the hottest thing ever,” Chan comments. His hand travels all the way from your knee to your thigh, until his fingers ghost over your clothed pussy. “Let’s see if I can make this pussy squirt again, hm?” He growls, nibbling your ear.

You take off your hoodie while Chan slides your leggings down your legs, revealing your beautiful thighs - his weak spot. He loves your thighs - loves to grip them when you’re on top of him, riding him. Loves to cum on them while jerking his cock while he watches you pleasuring yourself, two fingers shoved deep inside your pussy and two fingers rubbing your clit. He loves to suck, lick and bite them right before giving you oral, before devouring your pussy as if it were his last meal.

“You remembered, too,” he smirks as soon as he realizes you’re wearing his favorite lingerie set of yours - black lace, with a small ribbon right on your pussy and another one between your breasts.

“’s my favorite set, too,” you whisper, biting your lip as you look him in the eye.

He raises one eyebrow at you, then tongues his cheek. You catch him palming his cock over his boxers. When he grips it, you nearly choke on air - it looks so deliciously thick and hard. “Oh, really?”

“Mh-hm,” you nod.

“And why is that so?” He asks, intrigued.

You prop yourself on your elbows and spread your legs wider, giving him a better view of your barely covered pussy. You let your own hand travel down your body until your fingers reach the hem of said panties and start to toy with it. “Because you always fuck me so hard whenever I’m wearing it,” you reply, biting your lip as you look at him through your eyelashes.

Chan growls. A hoarse, almost animalistic growl as he feels his cock twitch inside his boxers. He wants nothing more than to whip it out, pull your panties to the side and take you right there, right now. But he’s also aware that his cock is not a cock that can be taken easily without being sufficiently prepped. “You’re right I do,” he grunts, gripping your thighs and squeezing them hard, “I always do.”

“That’s what I said,” you giggle.

“Sassy, are we?” Chan licks his lips, “take off your bra for me, baby girl. Let me see those pretty tits.”

Chan is always amazed by how little time it takes you to take off your bra - faster than lightning, really, he could never. His eyes take in the sight of your naked chest, perky nipples sitting there looking absolutely juicy - he wants nothing more than to wrap his lips around one of them and tease the other with his fingers, the way you like.

“You’ve got the prettiest tits,” he compliments you, licking his lips once again. “Seeing you like this, spread on my bed, makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Fuck me, then.”

“Not yet,” he says, “have to prep you first. Need you nice and wet f’my cock.”

“I am,” you promise with a desperate whine. “I am nice and wet for your cock. Here, see.”

You hook two fingers in your panties and pull the fabric to the side, revealing your bare cunt to his hungry eyes. It’s true, you are wet - Chan can clearly see a wet patch on the sheets, in the proximity of your pussy. The fact that you’re so horny for him that you’re literally leaking onto his bedsheets makes him go fucking feral. He palms his cock at the sight of your pussy, but his eyes fucking widen when he sees you spread your pussy lips with your fingers to actually show him how wet you are.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re driving me crazy,” Chan grunts. With a swift motion, he whips his cock out, then gets rid of his boxers. His cock looks massive, and it is, standing there between his legs, fully erect. “You sure you’re gonna be alright without foreplay, baby girl?” He asks you.

You nod, and he comes closer, his body hovering over yours once again. Meanwhile, you manage to take off your panties, kicking them off for good and letting them hit the floor. “Just put it in, I want to feel you,” you whisper on his lips.

Chan knows it’s not something he should do, but he still feels bad about not prepping you, so he spits on his fingers and smears his saliva all over the tip and length of his dick to make sure it’s slippery enough when he enters you. He pumps his hard cock a couple of times, letting out a couple of whimpers, before he aligns his tip to your entrance.

“‘M pushing in now, okay?” He asks, looking you in the eye as he speaks - his lips are just a few inches away from yours.

It all feels so intimate, the way your lips part and you both gasp when he finally pushes his cockhead inside of you, breaching your hole as he fills you up slowly, delicately. He’s always delicate at first, never rough - that’s something he likes to save for later. Maybe that’s not the way he should be acting - that’s not how a fuck buddy should be behaving, making sure he’s sinking in your heat with all the care in the world as he stares into your eyes until he bottoms out inside of you. That’s when his lips find their place on your neck, just like tour arms find their way around his back.

It doesn’t feel like two friends with benefits who are fucking, at least not to Chan. He’s making love with you, that much is clear to him. He’s always made love to you, since the first time you started this… whatever you want to call it. A situationship? A lost cause? A delusion?

He shakes his head, as if the gesture would shake the thoughts out of his head automatically. Now it’s not the time to think about this - or to overthink. Now, all he wants is to get lost in the delicious feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him, of how your wetness is coating his length, of how your warmth makes him feel safe.

“Can I move?” His voice comes out as muffled, since he’s still kissing your neck as he speaks, rubbing soft circles on your hip with his thumb, something he always does.

You nod, turning your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. “Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, move, please.”

You do feel the slightest sting when he pulls almost all the way out, you have to admit it, but it’s nothing unbearable or too excruciating. By the time he bottoms out once more, the discomfort is not there anymore. You let out a deep moan when he fills you up with his thick length once more until you feel his balls pressed against your asscheeks.

“So tight, baby girl,” he praises you, repeating the movement, pulling almost aaaall the way out, and then thrusting back inside in one go, albeit gently. “Drive me crazy.”

His cock feels thick and heavy moving inside of you, and you feel so full. It’s hot and leaking pre-cum, although you can’t really feel it. He can, though, and almost feels bad for how much he’s leaking already. It’s not gonna take too long before he fills you up with a much warmer and thicker substance, his cum. He loves filling your pussy up with his creamy release, shooting it deep inside of you before pulling out slowly just to watch it drip down from your hole mere seconds later. Sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly horny and he’s given you a particularly generous load, he’d even ask you to push it out for him to see.

“You feel so good inside of me,” you pant, “hittin’ all the right places. Fuck, how do you do it?” You manage to say though laboured breath.

He chuckles, snapping his hips faster to meet your pelvis, “That’s because I know your body like no-one else, baby girl. Is that right?” Faster, faster, faster - his movements gets more and more desperate with each thrust. “I know how to give it to you, don’t I? I just know what to do to make this pussy cum,” he pants, “I made it cream around my cock so many times. Fuck, I even made it squirt.”

it’s true, he has. Countless of times.

If he wanted to, he could make you cum right now. He’d just have to change a bit the angle of his hips, move them a little bit higher so that every time he pulls out his cockhead would brush your g-spot. At the same time, he’d rub your clit fast.

“Yeah, made me squirt so hard,” you whine, throwing your head back in the pillow as you feel hotter and hotter, body getting all sweaty as your toes begin to curl. “Made a mess on your sheets, made you throw them away. Came so hard for you,” you pant, nails digging in the pale, soft skin of his back.

“Want me to make you cum hard once again?” Chan grunts, and that’s when he actually gets in position. He smirks when he sees your eyes roll in the back of your head when he brushes that spot.

“Pleas, make me cum,” you whine, desperately trying to meet his hips, seeking more stimulation, “make me squirt, Chris, wanna squirt on your cock.”

It’s with his thumb on your clit and his mushroom tip pressing on your g-spot that you finally reach your orgasm. You don’t squirt this time, however, it’s so intense that you think you might pass out. You cum with a loud cry, burying your head in the pillow as you release around his length, squeezing his cock tighter than ever.

“Are you alright, baby girl?”

You nod, albeit slowly, already feeling spent from your orgasm. “Yeah,” you mumble, “wanna make you cum hard too, though.”

Chan’s jaw drops as he resumes his movements inside your heat, now even hotter and more slippery. He slides in and out easily, and grunts at the sleek sounds that fill his ears every time he pushes inside of you. “Trust me, baby girl, you are gonna make me cum hard,” he sighs.

If there’s a thing that Chan absolutely loves during sex, that thing is eye-contact.

So when your eyes stare into his, and he takes in your fucked out expression, he suddenly starts to feel closer and closer to his orgasm, ready to shoot his load inside of you, ready to fill you up.

He fucks you hard, headboard smacking against the wall with loud thuds - you’re probably going to be sore tomorrow morning, but at least you’ll know it was worth every second of it.

“‘M close, baby girl, ‘m so close,” Chan grunts, groping your thigh with one hand as he continues to pound inside of you. “Say it, please,” this time, he whines.

“What word?” You tease him. You know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Y’know what word, baby girl,” he pants, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, “Don’t be a brat, please, please say it.”

“Mhhh, just like that, daddy,” you moan the word in his ear, and he chokes on air, “fill me up, daddy, give me your cum. ‘Ve been a good girl for you, daddy, give it to me.”

Chan empties himself inside of you, grunting loudly and stopping moving inside of you abruptly. Thick, hot spurts of his cum fill you to the brim until there’s so much of it it starts to leak out of your hole. Tonight, he gave you a very generous load.

You’re both breathless and have no strength left in your bodies. He pulls out, biting his lip to the sight of his cum dripping from your pussy - it’s almost enough to make his cock hard again. Right now, though, he’s too tired, so he simply falls on the mattress and pulls you closer so that your head is resting on his chest.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, eyes already closing from how tired and spent you actually are.

“What are you sorry for?” Chan asks, fingers caressing your bare shoulder.

“You wanted me to squirt,” you yawn, then hug him closer. Chan’s heart skips a beat.

“Ah, baby girl,” Chan chuckles, “we can always have round two in a couple of hours.”

If someone asked Chan how he ended up in this situation, he wouldn’t know what to say.

It’s the same question he asks himself every night as he slides under the soft covers of his bed - so empty, so cold since you left. His bedsheets smell like you; they smell like the delicate scent of your shampoo; his pillows are impregnated with it. His sheets smell like your skin, like your body lotion, the one he loves to smell directly on your body when he buries his nose in your thighs or your stomach, or the valley of your breasts, or literally anyplace else.

Chan's bedsheets smell like your secret, the one you’ve both been keeping for a while now, for months.

As he lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Chan often gets lost his own thoughts as he tries to unravel the mystery of how you ended up becoming fuck buddies. He doesn’t even know when it all started, nor how. What he knows is - one minute he was your friend and also desperately in love with you, and the next he was pinning you against the wall, his lips all over your skin as he hiked your dress up your legs, higher and higher. He took you right there, in the club bathroom. You had your legs wrapped around his waist as you were sitting on the sink; his body between your thighs, cock buried deep inside of you as he thrusted inside of you, muffling the sounds that were threatening to escape his throat in the skin of your neck.

That was the first time. Many more followed. Many more, and before either of you could realize what you were getting yourselves into - you were already agreeing on sleeping with each other on a regular basis, whenever you felt the need to release some tension.

He doesn’t regret a single thing, no. The only problem is just - he wants more. He’s always wanted more from you, even though he never found the courage in himself to say the words out loud. It’s not a mere physical thing with you, he’s sure of that.

When you call him out of the blue on a Sunday morning and tell him that “we need to talk”, his first thought is that you know. You know about his feelings for you. Fuck, he should’ve been less obvious - and now you’re calling him, asking him to meet up, saying that you need to talk. You know. You know he’s caught feelings for you - well, technically, the feelings were already there before the thing between you even started. You know and you want to end it, tell him it’s over.

He’s prepared for the worst when you finally meet. Your serious face just confirms his suspicions. You’re ending this. You’re ending this and he hasn’t even had the chance to confess to you. He should do it now, he’s going to do it now.

It’s over, is what he’s expecting to hear from you. So yeah, he should just say the cliche I love you, right?

You both speak at the same time. However, the words that fall from your lips, are entirely different than the ones he was expecting to hear.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

“I love you.”

-> 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! “𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧” 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝

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tremendum · 3 months

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heaven is a place on earth; joel miller

prologue; im a loser, baby!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

au (pre-outbreak, altered ages), Joel Miller x fem!nanny!reader. dedicated to the anon who suggested this trope.

↬ series masterlist main masterlist

↬ it's 2000. you're freshly single, three weeks away from being evicted, and your coworker knows a hot, single dad who is hiring for a nanny. you'll take anything you can get.

↬ warnings; tagged 18+ for eventual smut and mature themes. MDNI. age gap (reader is 22, joel is 35), fiscal anxieties, allusions to a shitty ex. if your name is michelle, norah, or dan, you get to be twins with my ocs in this series <;33

series mixtape, song one; Loser, Beck. 1994.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

"fuck."

your voice hisses through the rows of books you stalk down, legs carrying you with fervor towards the front desk. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

you whirl past a mother reading a children's book to her toddler and wince at your language, mouthing sorry! at the baby as you pass. avoiding the harsh glare of its mother, you mutter under your breath. "shit."

in your hurry, your hip slams into the wooden corner of the front desk; a small grunt of pain hisses through your clenched teeth as you trudge up to your swivel chair.

"god, damn it!" you bemoan, lowering yourself into your chair and sighing heavily as you drop your head to your hands.

"so...it can't be good news." Michelle says to you, quietly, as she grimaces apologetically to the mother who walks towards the exit, shielding her stupid baby's ears from your foul mouth. you ignore the woman's harsh look of judgement, instead biting your lip, willing yourself to calm down.

with a suck of deep breath you shake your head. "no, it is not."

she sends you a consolatory look and to this you groan, "the rent's too much here. thought I'd get this one, I really did." you mutter helplessly, picking up several of the books from the drop bin to check them back in on your computer. "they made me endure four interviews. all for nothing."

a consolatory hand graces your shoulder and you offer your coworker a small smile of gratitude. she sends you a smile so hopeful that you nearly forget the desperate state you're in - the heavy fear of starting new.

"we'll find you a good one. you're smart, marketable, charming..." Michelle shakes her head as you move to protest, pointing at you. "-no, don't even start. we'll get you some more interviews. in the meantime...Dan and I were thinking. we have a couple hundred we could spare this month, just to..." she glances at your shocked stare, shrugging her shoulders. "-you know, get you on your feet. it's not easy to restart, especially after a breakup."

your heart drops at her words, a crawling feeling of shame licking your throat as you shake your head.

eyes stinging, you stare down hard at your keyboard, where your nails pick at the F key. "I couldn't- I couldn't ask that of you. thank you, but I-" you shake your head. "don't do that, really Michelle."

she waves her hand, "we insist. but Dan wants to discuss it in person, so we'll be having you over for dinner soon, okay?" she insists, and you hide your burning face between your hands. "this is too much." you say with a grumble, shaking your head.

"think of it as a gift." she says hopefully with a shrug. "your birthday's soon, isn't it?"

you sigh, smiling over at her as you shake your head. "at least let me do something for you in repayment. do you need any rooms painted? gardening? babysitting?" you offer, sliding slightly towards her to take a sip of her coffee.

"we'll talk about it." she agrees, but you know she isn't going to ask you to do any of it; she and her husband are much too kind.

at your silence she just hums triumphantly, typing away on her keyboard as she files a damaged book report. the library hums with its inherent stillness, the fluorescents flickering as you busy yourself filing your own work for the evening.

five whole minutes pass in silence; a feat for you and the woman who sits just beside you. as you work idly, your eyes jump back to the payphone on the wall across the room where you'd heard the words: thank you for your interest, but we decided to go with another candidate.

whatever. they don't deserve you, anyways. and honestly, the job had shitty benefits.

a sharp sigh from you gives Michelle the narrow opportunity to swivel her chair to face you, as if she'd been waiting for an opportunity to speak.

"you know," she puts on the look of innocence, "I was thinking..."

you fix her with a look - the last few suggestions for money she'd given you were take up dancing (which you would certainly consider, if the nearest club wasn't fourteen miles away) or marry rich. for a woman who's still with the same man she was with in high school, she sure has an imaginative mind.

you're a month away from losing your new apartment and you cannot fathom moving back in with your ex; you'll take anything. Michelle holds her hands out in defense at your glare. "listen, Norah's got a teammate whose father is looking for a nanny."

you let the words sink in as you spin your chair to her in interest. nanny?

"-he owns a construction business. he mentioned looking for a nanny for weekdays at the girls' tournament last Saturday."

you sigh, touched that she'd thought of you, but exasperated. "I work weekdays!" you sigh. she lifts a brow, leaning closer, "yes, but..." she looks around conspiratorially, "-I think Joel would give you higher pay - and you can still work here on weekends."

your brows raise in shock, hope growing in your chest. "what, is he loaded?"

at this, she laughs.

you blink as she holds a hand to her chest, chuckling to herself, leaving you unaware of whatever was so funny to her. "no, no." she calms herself as you stare, less amused. "-but he loves his girl. definitely the type of man who will pay well to make sure his baby's safe."

your lip is tugged between your teeth as you consider; "kids don't really like me."

it’s not even true- kids love you as much as you love them, but something self-sabotaging within you begs to differ.

Michelle snorts, "Norah loves you." she counters; you cross your arms, "well, that's different. she's, like, an eleven year old version of you."

she grins at this; Michelle has known you since you were a sophomore, just freshly out of the dorms - she may be older than you by over a decade and a half, but she and her husband are the closest to family you have in this part of the country.

you nod. "please, will you give him my information? I need any money I can get. I'll be the best nanny in the world."

you're convincing yourself more than her, but she smiles all the same. "I'll see him when I pick Norah up after practice this afternoon. I'll share your number with him, okay?"

you have the next day off of work; you spend it unpacking some boxes and organizing, taking a walk around the new neighborhood, trying to befriend the building cat with a can of tuna.

you watch people pass in the street, distracting yourself from the disappointment of leaving your old neighborhood, even if it'd been infested by your cheating ex.

the opportunity to nanny this summer lingers in the back of your mind as you walk past a park, watching as the kids clamber and scream and laugh; you smile to yourself, watching a young mother push a child on the swing.

sometime past noon, an unknown number texts your cellphone and you pause the TiVo to flip it open eagerly.

Hey there, it's Joel Miller. Our mutual friend Michelle passed along your number. I've been looking for a nanny for my daughter and heard great things about you. Would you be open to chatting sometime this week? I'd love to discuss a nannying opportunity with Sarah. Let me know if that works for you.

Thanks, Joel

you stare at the words, reading them slowly with a pounding of excitement in your chest. suddenly, the walls of your new, too-expensive apartment seem brighter, the sun opens up the sky - you nearly call Michelle in a burst of excitement before even thinking of a response.

an inkling of doubt pulls at the back of your head; the man seems kind enough - even if he texts like he's a hundred years old, Michelle and Dan know him personally. you slide your phone, staring at the phone screen for a moment before starting to type out a response.

Hi Joel! Nice to hear from you, thanks for reaching out. I'd be happy to meet this week to chat about Sarah and nannying opportunities. I am available in the evenings most days, so if there's any time that works best for you, I can make that happen.

knuckles cramping, you roll your eyes at your effort to be professional over text. you tweak your message several times before signing your name, shutting your eyes, and hitting the send button.

Joel doesn't respond until very late; nearly eleven in the evening, suggesting a time later in the week and telling you his address. Michelle is ecstatic for you, even helping you draft up ways to tell your boss you'll be going part-time in a professional way; it's accepted gracefully, and now all you have to do is hope this Joel Miller can pay enough.

he hires you an hour after meeting up.

to your relief, his daughter Sarah is a darling; big eyes and a bright smile that hides no malicious intent or snobbery. your anxiety slipped away the moment Joel opens their front door, replaced instead with flustered surprise in your lower belly at the man who stood before you.

why hadn't Michelle at least warned you?

he's taller than you'd imagined, and much more handsome; his dark hair is slightly tousled, a faint hint of stubble framing his jawline, biceps defined by a dark gray shhirt. he's curt but chivalrous, voice a low baritone and veins that trickle up his thick forearms golden skin glowing as he talks.

and jesus christ, his eyes - the memory of how they'd scaled over your body, taking you in as you'd stood in the dying sunlight on his doorstep that first time. dragging slowly, eyes dark and shrouded by long lashes, as you'd introduced yourself. how he'd cleared his throat and let you through with a half smile and a nod.

you'd had to try your hardest to keep your eyes on his as he explained he'd need you most weekdays because he has several new projects and has been working longer hours recently.

it took Sarah all of a minute and a half of shyness and hiding behind her father's leg before you showed her your tamagotchi; immediately after, she decided you were new best friends - with her hand in yours, she eagerly showed around the house in a half-intentional tour, pointing out the best hide and seek spots and showing you her collection of toys.

by the end of the evening, Joel was shaking your hand and agreeing on a bi-weekly payment much higher than you'd expected.

he'd insisted on walking you to your beat-up car, smiling as he opened your driver's door with a shrug - it's dark out, don't want to let my new sitter walk alone at night, do I?

you'd tried your hardest to keep your thoughts professional, but the moment your head fell to your pillow that night, you knew you were fucked.

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up next: chapter 01 ; as long as you don't care there is no longer a taglist; follow @tremendumnotifs to be notified when i post.

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#joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller series #heaven is a place on earth; tremendum

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momotonescreaming · 3 months

Text

Our Sweetness

Rating: T | WC: 1.4k | Steve/Tommy/Carol Polyamory, Established Relationship [also on ao3]

“Okay, so,” Carol starts, capping her pen. The fluffy end bobbles as she gestures with it, looking over at her boys. She’s sat cross legged at the end of her bed, weekly planner in her lap. Music plays softly in the background — a mixtape Steve made for the three of them — from a boombox she has resting on her desk on the other side of the room.

Steve looks up at the sound of her voice from his place in Tommy’s lap. Sat in between Tommy’s legs, his back pressed to his stomach, arms braced over Tommy’s thighs — splayed wide. He’s comfortable. Tommy’s hands carding through his hair, smoothing out the strands and ruining his carefully styled locks. Melting into it, blinking slowly. It’s a little thrilling, that they get this. They’re allowed to ruin his hair, to hold him, to make him feel comfortable.

“I’ve got our week all figured out, so listen up.” She continues, looking a little pointedly at Tommy. He lets out a quiet but indignant ‘Hey!’ as Carol barrels on. Tapping the page with the end of her capped pen, looking down at her careful cursive, and then back up at Steve and Tommy’s tangled bodies. “Monday I have a haircut and style, and I will not be rescheduling. So you two can hang unless there’s anything else you haven’t told me?”

“Nah,” Tommy replies, still absently running his hands through Steve’s hair. He looks down at the man, tilting his head up gently so they can lock eyes. “Wanna come over then, baby? Parents won’t get home ‘til late.”

Steve just sighs, sinking into the feeling. “Can’t. I still have that Social Studies essay to work on, and I’m rapidly running out of time.”

“Study date, then?” Tommy says, grinning. And Carol knows he does not have any actual studying in mind.

“Monday.” Carol says, talking over him, smothering any answer Steve might have. “I’m at the hairdresser, Steve is studying, and Tommy is jerking off alone.”

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, hands stilling, and Steve just laughs. Brings one of his hands up to rest on Tommy’s side. Runs his hand in small circles, a comfort. “What the hell Carol!”

“We will be graduating together, if I have anything to do with it,” She continues. “Plus you two need to keep your grades if you want to stay on the team.”

Tommy scoffs, but Carol can see he carefully doesn’t move out of Steve’s hold, away from his hand. He grabs it actually, pulling it away from his side, and brings it to his mouth. Places a soft kiss to the back of Steve’s knuckles, at the soft hair there, and Steve smiles. Soft, and sweet, and looking up at Tommy.

Fuck, she loves them.

“Tuesday Steve has swim practice.”

“Yeah, and it might run late too, with the meet so soon. So no hanging out after, I’m afraid.” Steve adds, sighing, not letting go of Tommy’s hand. He sounds a little disappointed.

“No worries baby,” She says, voice dropping into something saccharine sweet. Comforting. Reassuring. She always takes care of her boys. “I can have time with Tommy, and then we can make it up to you later.”

She deliberately keeps her tone sweet, not dipping into something sultry. Because as much as she loves making it up to Steve — taking care of him, making him feel good and taking him apart. Sometimes he needs it a little sweeter. Non-sexual intimacy. Massages and baths, cuddling while watching a movie. That they’re in it for him, and not just his body.

“Okay,” Steve replies softly, and she can see how much he yearns to reach out and touch. But they have to organise their week, or they’ll never get anything done.

“Wednesday Tommy has the dentist with his Mom after school.” She starts, pointing at the appointment in her planner, time carefully recorded. Tommy scoffs, but doesn’t interrupt. “And I have a study/hang with Nicole.”

She doesn’t say anything, neither does Tommy, but they both look at Steve.

“It’s okay,” He says. “I’ll go to the gym, go for a run. It’ll be good.”

“Keeping those muscles warm for us, huh?” Tommy jokes, mouth curling into a smirk.

“Oh you know it,” Steve replies, looking back up at Tommy, and then back to Carol, smile on his face.

“Thursday is basketball practice, obviously,” She continues, lest the boys get lost in their banter, their flirting. “So if you guys want to have a date after, I’ll have some me time.”

The boys basketball dates, Carol knew, were quite often sweaty gross things. Full of shower sex, rough hand jobs, and manly grunting. They needed to get it out of their system, flirt on the basketball court, work themselves up, and then fuck it out.

And most of the time it was best if they did it without Carol. They had a system, it worked. They got to have their jockish hookups, and get it all out so they could be good for her.

She watched as Tommy and Steve looked at each other, grinning, sinking into each others gazes. It was sweet — or it would be if she couldn’t tell they were being horny about it.

“Friday we’re totally free,” Carol says, adjusting her posture. Finally. That was the thing about they dynamic they had, the relationship they had built — all three of them — was it was occasionally very, very, hard to find a time they were all free. No extracurriculars, no appointments, no other commitments with friends. “So date night? All of us?”

“Matty from swim has been talking about throwing a party,” Steve adds. “We could go let loose? Dance? Have a few drinks and then go back to mine?”

“I thought your parents are home?” Tommy asks, brow furrowing as he looks down at Steve, still reclining serenely in Tommy’s laps. Cradled by his legs, his warm thighs. It’s a good place to be, Carol knows. She’d almost be jealous if she didn’t love the sight of it so much.

“They are,” he replies with a sigh, chest moving with the sheer force of the air leaving his lungs. “But they’re driving out of town for some dinner party. They’ll be back Saturday afternoon.”

“Well that’s plenty of time for us to have some fun.” Carol adds with a cat-like grin. “We can go out Saturday morning, get some brunch? Get Steve out of the house?”

“Please,” he says with another sigh. “They’re always a nightmare when they get back.”

“Perfect.” Carol says with finality, snapping her planner closed. She rests her fluffy pen on top, and pushes it off to the side. “That’s it then. So please, for the love of all that is holy, please remember it all.”

“Could never forget you, hot stuff,” Tommy flirts, holding out his free hand for her to take. That glint in his eye, that curl to his lips, the look he gives her. It’s addicting. It’s charming. She rolls her eyes, of course she does, but she grabs Tommy’s hand. Lets him pull her closer, into his grasp. “Love your organisation skills.”

It sounds like a joke, like he’s teasing — and Tommy sort of is — but she knows he genuinely means it. The way she merges their lives together in her little planner. Everyone’s sports, and appointments, school due dates and family commitments.

She lets herself tumble down onto the bed, into Tommy’s hold, Steve shuffling over to make room for her. They’re curled together like commas, Tommy holding onto them both, sharing the same breath.

Steve hooks an ankle over hers, anchoring her, and brings his free hand up to gently brush across her face. Her flushed cheeks, her sharp jaw. Tilting it up with a gentle press of his fingers.

“Thank you sweetheart,” he says, and she feels a gasp hitch in her chest. It’s the way he says it, that always gets her. The warmth, the sheer emotion in all his words, his tone. He cares for her, for Tommy, and for all of them together. It leaks out of him, like it’s too big for him to contain.

She loves it. Lets her eyes drop down to Steve’s lips. Plush and pink and right there. He sees this, Tommy sees it, and a shiver runs down her spine. “You gonna kiss me, or what?”

“With pleasure,” Steve whispers, voice dropping low as he closes the distance between them.

#stranger things #steve harrington #tommy hagan #carol perkins #stomarol #steve/tommy/carol #My Writing #rip to all my other projects this fic just happened

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

We Tried The World CH1.

THE MASTERLIST SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, 287 MILES FROM HOME.

Steve picked you up a few doors down from your house at six o’clock in the morning the next day.

Hawkins was still asleep, the whole town nursing a sleepiness that only came from a party that everyone had joined in on the night before. The morning air smelled like old bonfire smoke, the leftover fizz from fireworks and the sky was lilac and peach, the air hazy.

You didn’t say much when you walked towards his car, the BMW idling by the park on the corner of your street. You’d told him to park away from your house, to let your aunt sleep through what would’ve been an awkward goodbye.

You left a note on your bed instead, one that you knew she’d understand. After all, she’d been there through everything. Hawkins wasn’t home and you were never supposed to have ended up there.

Steve hopped out and put your rucksack in the trunk for you and when you dropped yourself into the passenger seat beside him, he smiled and handed you a couple of cassettes to pick from. The windows were down, his tank was full and the height of summer was creeping into the car. Everything smelled like cut grass and coffee and boy.

When you chanced a glance at your driver, he looked the way you felt, like he was at peace with what was about to happen, like it was all finally okay.

His cheek was still angry, pink and lilac turning to blue and red overnight and he licked his split lip a little self consciously upon feeling your eyes on him.

You thought he might tell you to quit it, to stop staring but Steve was soft around the edges, maybe from sleep, maybe from the relief you both felt when you approached the edge of town. The sign that told you both you were leaving Hawkins edged closer as Steve drove, the mocking “come back soon!” staring at you both.

It felt like a challenge, it felt like a dare.

Steve spoke then, the engine thrumming underneath you both as he flicked honey brown eyes towards you.

“You sure?”

You stared at the road ahead before finding the boy’s gaze, a quiet determination coming over you. You think he saw it, or maybe he felt it - like the air around you both changed - because he smiled, a little crooked because of his cut but it made you grin back.

The sense of adventure overpowered the unknown, the thrill of something new and all of the what ifs made your heart beat a little faster and for the first time in the longest time, you felt like you weren’t sleepwalking through the day.

Morning had hardly broken and the sky was still a watercolour wash of pastel, but you were wide awake.

You nodded and Steve’s grin was blinding, summer and sun in a smile.

You drove as the sun came up, until the skies turned from peach to blue, the air growing warmer and the view outside your window had less houses. Steve hit the highway and picked up some speed, windows still down and the wind rushing at your faces as you left behind the old water tower, the trailer park on the outskirts of town, Mr Lumson’s old farm.

Hawkins led out into open fields, green and gold and yellow, flat land broken up by old barns, forgotten tractors, a paddock of horses and cows. The road took you through other towns, some smaller, some bigger, gas stations with only one working pump, a vendor on the side of the road selling fruit and homemade iced tea.

It all felt a little surreal, like you were daydreaming in the best kind of way. Because the wind threaded through your fingers as you held your hand out of the open window, it nipped at your open palm and you could smell the fresh air, the pine trees. Because you were sitting in the front seat of Steve Harrington’s car and he was driving you far away from home. You weren't even sure where you were going, you didn’t think Steve really knew either, but everything you loved was packed into the duffle bag in the boy’s trunk - and there wasn’t much.

Some clothes, a few mixtapes, a few half empty toiletries in a make up bag you’d taken from underneath your aunt’s bathroom sink. A tin of pencils, your sketchbook, a few rings - all gold, some important, some not. All the money that you had. It wasn’t like the boy was a stranger, he wasn’t, not really. No one could feel like a stranger in a town like Hawkins, it was too small, people were too close and someone’s grandma always knew someone else’s cousin. You’d grown up with Steve, not by his side, but in the same circle - he’d been in all your classes from kindergarten to high school, sharing friends and the same drug dealer.

You were friendly with Robin Buckley, your aunt and you lived a few doors down from Nancy Wheeler, you babysat for the Sinclair siblings before Lucas moved up to high school and you were both invited to the same parties. You knew he worked in Family Video, you knew he’d chosen not to go to college after graduation. You knew his parents were always gone, you knew he was softer than he seemed and you knew that the reason for his back eye was most likely his father.

You knew he kissed like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs, like he was trying to tell you all his secrets.

And maybe, despite not knowing his favourite colour, his favourite food, his favourite song, you had the feeling you were more similar than you ever would’ve guessed, that you both shared that awful pulsing ache in your chest that there wasn’t a home for either of you anywhere.

So when Steve pulled into a parking lot just off of the highway, somewhere near the edge of Illinois, you didn’t hesitate to nod when he asked if you were hungry, to follow him into the old diner with its neon sign and pink walls. It was nearing eight o’clock and the world was a little more alive now, the roads busier, the diner smelling like coffee and maple bacon.

You found it easy to slide into a booth across from the boy, easier to let your gaze meet his, small smiles playing on both of your mouths. You ordered a tea, Steve a coffee and a plate of pancakes each and when the waitress scratched down your choices, she clicked her tongue, smiled and called you both a ‘cute little pair.’

No one really spoke until there was caffeine in your systems, bones warmed by hot drinks and the drizzle of syrup that you licked from lips and forks. It was a nice kind of silence whilst you ate, the kind you were sure you could get used to, the kind that could carry you across states, across the country.

It was even nicer when Steve wiped his mouth with his napkin, tapped your foot with his underneath the table and raised a brow in question.

“So, where d’you wanna go?”

“Don’t you have somewhere in mind?” you asked him. This was his plan after all, he’d been the one to ask you, to invite you along.

Steve shook his head slow, shoulders shrugging as if the destination had never occurred to him.

You sipped the last of your tea, watching the boy over the rim of the cup and he could tell you were taking your time to think. There was an ache in your chest that felt like the answer, that felt a little like the idea of home.

“California,” you said, voice softer than you wanted it to be. “Carmel-by-the-Sea.”

The sounds of the diner filled the silence between you two as Steve considered your response. The jingle of the cash drawer, spoons stirring in sugar, the pop of the grill behind the open kitchen window.

But then the boy nodded and took another sip of his coffee. There was a soft sincerity colouring his voice, his pretty features, when he asked you: “What’s there?”

You felt a little embarrassed, so you looked at your almost empty plate, sticky syrup on the cheap ceramic, a quarter of your last pancake that Steve had helped you eat.

“The ocean,” you mumbled, nose scrunched as you chanced a glance back up at him. “Never seen it before.”

You didn’t want to tell him that you hadn’t actually left Hawkins since you moved there when you were three years old. You thought that maybe Steve knew that, that he could tell, that he could guess. Because you were living with your aunt, a woman who didn’t really care, but the only family member left in your life that cared enough. Holiday’s weren’t a thing.

“There’s a lot of ocean before Carmel-by-the-Sea,” Steve smiled, a little teasing, a little curious. “What’s there?” he asked again.

Your lips twisted, a downturn of your mouth that you tried to hide because he had figured you out way too quickly. This stranger who wasn't a stranger, this boy who wasn’t really a friend. He was your last kiss though, your companion for the next who knew how many weeks.

But still, it was day one and you were still guarding your secrets, yourself. So you shrugged as if you didn’t know the answer, like there wasn’t one to give and Steve was smart enough not to press. You turned to him instead, sticky fork in your hand, wielded like a weapon that you needed to protect yourself with.

You thought of all the questions you wanted to ask him and they rattled in your head, in your chest, making you feel panicked. You didn’t want to upset him, you didn’t want to cross any lines that hadn’t been set yet.

Why are you leaving town? Does your parents know you’re gone? Do they care? Did your dad hit you? Why did you kiss me? Are we gonna talk about that?

“Why me?” you asked instead and you cringed a little when it came out like an argument, voice a little too hard and harsh.

But Steve just smiled again, fingertip tracing around the rim of his now empty mug and you were almost sure that there was a faint flush of pink high on his cheeks. He shrugged a little shyly before he flicked honey brown eyes up to yours. There it was again, that look, that unbearably soft sincere look, like he wasn’t about to judge you.

“You’re the only other person I know with nothin’ to lose.”

You were a little speechless.

Another half shrug, a lopsided smile that matched the morning sun that was rising in the window behind him.

“The same as me.”

Something in your chest stuttered. Maybe your heart stopped, just for a half a second, maybe less, because something skipped a beat at the realisation that the boy knew you more than you thought he did. It’s why you told him yes, why you nodded your head in that strangers kitchen the night before, lips a breath away from Steve’s, both of you lit up in red, green and gold.

Because with a dad that wasn’t around when you were born, a twenty something stoner with three jobs and no time for a kid, you weren’t sure you knew what it was like to have something that you’d miss when it was gone. It only took three years for your mom to feel the same way, bored of her daughter and the life in a small town in Virginia. You weren’t even sure which town.

Too young to remember it as a home, your mom had dropped you with her sister in Hawkins, an aunt that had no time for a kid, but took you in nonetheless. You were sure there had been a false promise of a quick return. Your mom telling your aunt that she just needed a minute, just some time to get her head straight, didn’t she understand? You were too much hard work. You were difficult.

She told the other woman a week, two tops. And then you were celebrating your fourth birthday, your fifth, your sixth and every one after that with your aunt who never wanted you but never had the heart to say. She bought you a cake from the bakery on Main every year, bought you a new book wrapped in red paper and some cash in a card.

And every year you smiled and thanked her, brushed a kiss across her cheek and took a slice of cake to your room, where you watched the sprinkles melt and colour the white icing, where you pushed the dollars into the tin underneath your mattress.

It had never been enough to buy a car, or a plane ticket. It wasn’t enough to take you where you wanted to go, not even close. But it could help you buy gas and food, maybe a motel room here and there. ‘Cause now you had Steve and that was a statement that you were sure you’d never get used to saying.

You smiled at the boy, a soft laugh leaving your lips in a humourless huff and you nodded, pushing the last square of pancake around your plate.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “nothing to lose.”

“Do your parents know that you’re doing… this?” you gestured between the two of you, glanced out of the windows to his maroon coloured car sitting in the dusty parking lot. You were already both two hours from home, maybe more. “Do they know you’re gone?”

Steve grinned and you could tell it was sharp, without any happiness. The boy sat opposite you with his still sleep mussed hair, big brown eyes and nothing more than a similar sized rucksack in his trunk, right beside yours.

He thought of his room, empty and blue, a couple of books taken from his shelves and a pillow from his bed - the flattest one, old and in a chequered case, smelling like a home that was only really a house.

The kitchen was empty when he left, the living room too, the only framed photos were shots taken in a studio, white backgrounds, pressed shirts, his father’s cold hand on his shoulder. Steve stopped smiling in the third one.

He’d locked the door, stared at the key as he stood on his porch and toyed with the idea of taking it off of the chain it shared with the key to his car. He could post it, leave it on the doormat in the hall for his parents to come home to. He didn’t know when they’d return. He didn’t know when he’d come back, if he would at all.

Steve didn’t know where he was going.

He posted his resignation into the letterbox of Family Video on the way to your house, slowed down when he drove through Robin’s street, wondering if the upset would be worth getting to give her one last hug. He’d spent the night before on the phone to her, hours and hours of frustration and a little anger, upset and unshed tears before he finally got his best friend to understand.

She made him promise he’d come back. She begged him. So Steve nodded even though the girl couldn’t see. He swallowed the lump in his throat and told her yes, that he’d come back, that he promised.

Steve really hoped he didn’t break it.

He thought about telling you that his parents wouldn’t care, that his parent’s probably wouldn’t even notice. The landline could go unanswered for weeks on end and his parent’s wouldn’t think to get an early flight home. He could drive to Europe and back, take some trains, some boats, swim across the English Channel and return home before they noticed he was gone. But all of that sounded a little sad, and Steve reckoned there was plenty of time for sadness later.

So for now, he shrugged, waved a hand dismissively and tugged his wallet from his jean pocket. He smiled when you chucked a few bills on the table first, not bothering to argue or play polite, ‘cause you were both more than aware money was going to be tight if you were going to make it across the country together. And besides, he told himself, this wasn’t a date. This was an escape and it didn’t matter if he knew that you kissed like you wanted to prove something, that you tasted like cherries and something else sweet.

He wasn’t gonna talk about that.

You both crossed the border into Illinois without much fanfare, the windows rolled down and the highway stretching out long ahead of you. The fields on either side of you were undisturbed, the sun blazing down on wide, green pastures, acres of gold wheat and every now and then, you’d pass an old barn that sat forgotten. The sign that welcomed you to the new state seemed a little monumental, despite the fact that the green backing of it was sun bleached and faded, but it meant that you and Steve were no longer in Indiana, no longer home.

It felt good, it felt dizzying and with every mile Steve drove you both across the state line, your smile grew and so did Steve’s. He was beaming when you glanced over at him, hair wild from the wind that funnelled through the open windows, the car going just a tiny bit faster that it was supposed to. But you merely turned up the music, fingers gentle on the dial, whatever mixtape Steve had made pumping through the speakers with static and crackles.

It made the boy beam, and he matched the summer outside, warmth and sunshine in his chest, a new heatwave trapped in his eyes, an adventure waiting on his lips. He was a sight to behold and it made your chest burst, so you blinked, turned back looking out the window instead.

But you couldn’t help the burst of laughter that ripped prettily from your throat when Steve started singing, not all that badly, you noted. He garnered your attention once more, like he wanted it, like he liked it. He didn’t care that you were watching, that you were staring, his hands drumming out a beat on the wheel, a little off rhythm, his hair in his eyes, chin tilted up to the sun as he crooned.

“There's a room where the light won't find you!” The boy was almost yelling to be heard over the roar of the car, and you were laughing through strands of wind whipped hair. “Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down!”

You sang the next line with him, much quieter and shyer than Steve did. But the words held the same weight to them whether they were whispered or yelled, and goosebumps tracked up your bare arms as you let them leave your lips.

“When they do I'll be right behind you.”

Maybe it meant nothing, maybe it was just a song, just a band that Steve liked, that he put on a mixtape. He was just a boy, an almost friend, someone you kissed just once. Just a boy who asked you to run away with him, a boy with honey brown eyes, messy hair, freckles that looked like the start of summer on his cheeks.

Maybe it meant nothing. It was just a song, you told yourself again. But then Steve looked over at you and grinned again, that same slow, soft smile you were already becoming so used to. Maybe it could mean everything.

You rolled through small towns and dust roads, listening to Tears For Fears and wondering if your aunt had woken up and found your note yet. The morning became afternoon and the heat rose with the sun, heating the asphalt, the air, you.

It had been over an hour, almost two, when you turned to Steve, cheek pushed to the fabric of the seat. Your gaze settled over him, familiarising yourself with the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He had some stubble now, a shadow to his cheeks that hadn’t been there the night he kissed you. Pouty lips, impossibly pink and soft - easy to kiss, you remembered. Eyes that kissed in the corners, always sleepy looking, thick lashes, honey and brown sugar in the sun. Hair that was always a little wild, curling at the nape of his neck, around his ears.

Steve Harrington was a very pretty boy, you summarised.

You cleared your throat when he caught you staring, a pair of Ray-Ban’s perched over his eyes now and despite the dark glass, you could see the way his eyes stuck on yours for just a second, before the road stole back his attention.

“So uh, what’s the plan?” you asked, trying for light and casual.

“Cali, remember? Carmel, the ocean, right?” Steve looked confused, and the pucker between his brows only deepened when you laughed, not unkindly.

“We’re a long way from there, hot shot,” you smiled, gesturing to the road ahead of you both. “What’re we doing in the meantime?”

Steve parted his lips, thinking. Then he laughed too, soft like you did, and waved a hand. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Why, uh, why don’t we stop at town soon? We can get some supplies, take a walk, find somewhere to stay and figure out where we wanna go?”

You nodded before rooting around in the glovebox, nosy and entirely unapologetic about it. You scoffed, eyeing the boy with an air of disbelief.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Do you even have a map, Harrington?”

“No.”

----------

It’s how you and Steve found yourselves in Springfield, a bustling town that was the second choice to Chicago, or first, where Steve was concerned. The boy had wrinkled his nose when you’d suggested it offhandedly, and he’d made a comment about avoiding the cities that were too big, too loud, too much.

Steve wanted quiet, he wanted something slow, peaceful. He wanted rolling hills, he wanted valley’s, he wanted to see green and blue, he wanted sunsets, sunrises, he wanted to see the stars, home cooked meals in tiny diners, coffee on the hood of his car in front of a lake.

He wanted everything his own home couldn’t offer him, he wanted to get away. He smiled when you just nodded and said ‘okay’, like giving the boy what he wanted was the easiest thing in the world.

So Steve parked up on a street corner in the middle of town, the sidewalks busy enough that no one stared at the two of you, busy enough that no one realised that you didn’t belong. But the crowds and bustle meant that Steve stuck close to your side, a hand always hovering over the small of your back, scared to touch but unwilling to lose you in a new place.

The streets were lined with diners and some small businesses; hairdressers, barbers, bookshops and nail salons. There was a fancy restaurant or two, a dentist's surgery, a pharmacy that looked straight out of the 1950’s and a car garage that sat on the other corner, four gas pumps and a bored looking attendant.

The sidewalks were lined with small trees, striped canopies over the window displays, neon signs over twenty four hour diners and motels showing their vacancies.

It was enough for the first day, you thought. Enough to keep you busy, enough to get started. So you tapped Steve’s shoulder and pointed to a small store across the street, one that looked like you could find what you needed in it.

It seemed like a knee jerk reaction when Steve’s fingers slid gently around your wrist as you crossed the road. You didn’t pull away, you didn’t say anything but he was blushing when you looked at him, the skin where he’d touched you burning in response.

He gave you a sheepish smile when he let go, pink on his cheeks and one hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. He didn’t look at you when he explained, “sorry, I uh, I hang about with kids too much.”

There was no time to respond before Steve was shuffling into the shop, the bell above the door tinkling gently. You managed to find a roadmap of the states, each major highway inked in bright red and you traced route sixty six, a small smile on your face.

Your finger ran over the folds and creases, found the Pacific Coast highway and stared at the blue on the page, the dips in the lines that showed off beaches and coves.

Steve came to stand at your shoulder, head above your own as he watched you stare. He saw your smile, the almost hopeful look in your eyes.

His voice was quiet and soft when he said, “it’ll take us what, two weeks? Maybe three depending on where you wanna stop off?”

“Me?” You scrunched your nose, embarrassed to have been given so much say in a trip that wasn’t ever really your idea. “What about you? Aren't there places you’d like to go to? To see?”

Steve looked a little taken aback, like he’d never really thought about it. He shrugged, gazed back down at the map in your hands and moved a little closer so he could stare at the states, the roads, the lakes marked out in patches of blue.

“I didn’t really think of where I wanted to go,” he told you quietly, “just that I knew I wanted to leave.”

You were quiet as you processed the boy’s words, your eyes a little sad as you looked back over your shoulder at him, at his bruised eye and cut lip. So you nodded, like you understood, folded the map back up and placed it on the cash desk before you grabbed a small book from the display next to the till, one that was titled ‘1001 Things To See In America.’

Steve didn’t say anything but you saw him smile, that shy stretch of his lips, the same one he gave you after he kissed you. It showed off a dimple on his right cheek, it made his lashes kiss at the corners, nose a little wrinkled.

He looked really pretty.

He grabbed some bottles of soda as you wrestled with your purse, stretching over your shoulder again to place them on the corner, a big bag of chips quickly following with some dollar bills. Steve grabbed the bag of snacks, took the book you picked and tucked it under his arm, grinning at you as he headed for the door.

“Ready?”

The question took your breath away, because it was so much more than one word. It was possibilities, it was a leap of faith, it was a new state, a different adventure. It was mountains, valleys, lakes, oceans, wide roads, wider canyons, the chance to see something new.

It was absolutely terrifying. But you nodded and followed Steve out the door.

—————

“Did you know that Kansas has the biggest ball of twine?”

Steve was stretched out on the grass of Lincoln Park, the book you picked in his hands as he grinned at you over its pages.

You snorted. “Sounds riveting. Here,” you threw him a pen from your bag, taking your sketchbook out with it. “Start circling stuff that you wanna see, but no fifty foot balls of twine, please.”

“It’s actually only ten feet,” Steve told you, flicking through the pages absentmindedly.

“That’s disappointing.”

It was the boy’s turn to laugh and he took a sip of his soda before he tilted his chin at the paper you were holding, craning his neck to inspect.

“D’you draw?”

You flushed: your immediate reaction to being asked that question because it wasn’t something you showed off. You shrugged, held the pages a little closer to your chest and leaned back against the oak tree behind you.

“Not well,” you muttered, squinting your eyes against the sun. You watched as Steve watched you, how he took in your closed off body, the protective hand you held over the blank page. “S’just something to do, y’know?”

So he didn’t press, didn’t push, just merely nodded and went back to the book, tracing the letters of a title you couldn’t see. It was peaceful, easy, a bag of spicy chips laid open between you, your knees tucked up so you could put pen to paper and sketch out the mess of the boy’s hair in secret.

If Steve knew you were drawing him, he didn’t say. But he had to know, ‘cause your gaze was on him as much as it was your book and every now and then, your eyes met and he smiled.

“What about The Ozarks?” He said, pushing the book over to you, his finger tapped a photo of sprawling forests, cerulean blue springs hidden amongst them. There were people in kayaks, swimming, jumping from cliff tops. “Looks nice, right?”

You hummed in agreement, nodding. “It does, it looks super pretty.” You twisted your pen to your paper, drew in the small mole on his cheek. “That’s Missouri, yeah?”

He nodded, taking the pen you’d given in and circling something on the page, bookmarking it for later.

“About six hours away, if you wanna take the scenic route,” he mumbled, the map in his other hand, the edges of it curling in the light breeze.

“Always take the scenic route, Harrington,” you commented lightly, your lips twisting in concentration as you shaded in the slope of the boy’s jaw. “That sounds like a plan though, at least, a good start to one.”

“Noted,” he smirked and after a few beats of silence, he stretched his leg over the grass to yours, nudging at your foot with his trainer. He nodded at the paper that was still tucked against your knees, hidden against your chest. “Do I get to see?”

You baulked.

“Since it's me and all,” he grinned.

Weirdly, you knew that if you said no, Steve wouldn’t protest or argue. You weren’t sure how, but you were so, so sure of that. Maybe that’s why you chewed at your lip and turned the page, letting him take in the dark lines and soft shadows of his own face.

You’d drawn him from the torso up, t-shirt crumpled against the grass, hair wild from the drive, from the wind, his eyes downcast at the book he was holding.

Steve stared, silent before he coughed out an almost embarrassed sound laughing, eyes flicking between you and the page.

“Wow,” he mumbled, leaning closer to look. You could feel your cheeks heat up, the flush spreading across your chest. “Bruises and all, huh?”

You grimaced, regretting shading in the cut and marks around his eyes and lip, pulling back the paper and wondering if you’d crossed a line.

“Sorry! I’m- fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-” you were rambling and it was awful. God, you felt awful.

“No! No, no,” Steve assured you, “don’t be, it’s amazing, shit… it’s really good.”

You were burning. “Thanks,” you mumbled, staring at anything but the boy. “You have a good face.”

Steve grinned.

“To draw,” you told him, voice a little too sharp and high. “Fuck.”

But Steve was already laughing, although it didn’t feel like it was aimed at you and the sound wasn’t cruel. He didn’t really look at you when he gathered up his things, the map and the book, his empty soda bottle.

“You have a good face too.”

You were pretty sure you were still flushed by the time late evening crawled around, dinner was in an old diner with sticky leather booths, a fuschia sign outside that blinked and flickered as the sun went down. It took a little while after that to find a motel with vacancies, the two of you driving around in the warm night air, the windows still rolled down.

The town smelled like leftover cinnamon from bakeries that were closing, fumes from exhausts, garlic and rosemary from the restaurants that only got busier the more you drove around the block.

Eventually you spotted a sign a few streets down, close to the park you’d spent your afternoon in. A pretty, baby pink building with a red sign above it, green curtains lining the windows and the word “VACANCIES” flashing at you both from the main door.

So Steve parked the car and brushed you away when he took both your bags out the trunk, slinging them over one shoulder like it was no big deal. Night was stretching in and despite not being all that far from home, the excitement of a new town, a new state, was starting to wear you both down.

Sleep tugged at your eyes as the stars came out and once again, Steve guided you into the quiet motel with a gentle hand that didn’t quite touch your back.

He spoke quietly and politely to the woman at the desk, looking at you questioningly when she asked how many rooms. The boy sputtered and stopped, eyes in yours as he let you take the lead.

There it was again, that heat in your cheeks that seemed to be becoming a frequent feeling around Steve Harrington. But he waited patiently, the woman less so, and you sounded far too quiet when you said, “one, please. A twin.”

Steve didn’t say anything as you took the keys from the desk, slid the money you’d both put together into the woman’s hand. It wasn’t until you were both standing in the too small elevator that you smiled at him a little sheepishly, arms crossed over your chest and said:

“I didn’t wanna be in a room alone.”

The boy nodded and smiled, like it was okay, like it was fine. And maybe it was. ‘Cause he put your bag down on the single bed for you when you entered the room, his on the other and told you that you could use the shower first, like this was the most normal Tuesday night.

The summer heat, leftover sunscreen and the hours in the car were sticking to your skin and the thought of a cool shower and some fresh pyjamas seemed far too enticing, so you did just that.

The spray was a welcome sensation, a little weak, a little pour than a dribble but it was better than you could’ve hoped for considering you had no plans to even be in a tiny motel in Illinois until yesterday at ten o’clock.

The party seemed an age ago, in someone's kitchen on Hawthorne Street, groups of strangers, some friends, colours in the sky and spilled beer on the kitchen tiles. A boy, familiar face, a new kiss, asking you to leave town.

You stared at the baby pink tiles, eyes a little wide as the reality of the situation set in. Guilt rolled in your stomach as you realised your aunt would have most definitely found your note by now.

Maybe she’d feel as free as you did.

The buzz of the television played through the thin walls as you got dried and dressed, skin still damp as you pulled on old shorts, a too big shirt that had a photo of Prince on the front, some splashes of dried paint on the hem.

Steve was lounging on his bed when you padded out barefoot, suddenly a lot more shy than you thought you would be. But he smiled and gestured to a bottle of water he’d left on the nightstand for you, brushing gently past your shoulder with his own towel as he went to wash the day away.

The low lights in the room were a little too warm, pink tinged and making everything look rosy. Steve had cracked a window, enough to let the summer air in, a cooler breeze now the sun had gone down, the sky streaked with leftover indigo clouds and you could hear the buzz of cicadas from the park behind you.

It felt a little dreamlike, a little surreal.

And then as you were tucked into bed, the sheets a little scratchy, Steve walked back out in shorts and a threadbare shirt, hair damp and falling in his eyes.

He pulled a pillow from his bag, a sad, flat looking one that still had its pillowcase on it from home. He chucked it onto his bed before tumbling in after it and he turned to look at you, expression almost unsure.

“You okay?”

You shuffled, cheek pressed to the motel pillow and between you both, the light flickered once, twice, sending peach coloured shadows across the room.

“Yeah,” you whispered, scared to break the silence that surrounded you. “How come?”

Steve shrugged, body lazy against the mattress and he stretched, humming in content as he did. “I dunno,” he whispered back, voice scratchy and soft with sleep. “I guess I just wanted to ask. Make sure you still want to do this, y’know?”

You smiled, appreciating the gesture, and you blinked at him, sleep tugging at you more and more. “Yeah, ‘course. The Ozarks right?”

The boy grinned and nodded, eyes shy and gazing at you from under his lashes. He pushed at his sheets with his toes, too warm, shoving them down his legs. You tried not to stare, not at the muscles in his thighs, the small scar on his ankle that shone silver in the low light.

It was quiet until Steve whispered ‘goodnight’, leaning out of his bed to flick the light off, bathing you both in black. Outside, the town kept going, soft music coming from somewhere unknown, the murmured conversation from some people at the vending machines in the parking lot below your room.

You don’t know why you asked it. Maybe it was because it was dark and you were suddenly a little unsure, maybe you just wanted to know a little more about the boy in the bed next to you - like you could collect some more pockets of the boy’s life, like you could find out enough to call him a friend, maybe, eventually.

“Hey Steve?” You waited until the boy made a little noise in the dark, signalling that he was still awake. “Tell me a secret?”

There was a beat of silence, one that made the room feel warmer, summer sneaking in from the outside. You heard the sheets shuffle, the rasp of skin on cotton.

“My dad gave me this black eye.”

His words were heavy, the way only a secret could feel. But it sounded like there was some relief colouring Steve’s whisper, like he felt lighter the minute he said the words.

“I’m sorry,” your response felt silly no matter how much you meant it.

“Tell me one too.”

You swallowed, paused, thinking. The hot prick of tears wet the corner of one eye and you were thankful for the dark, for the night. You brushed it away until it smeared into the mess of your hair, right by your ear.

“Uh, I realised last week that,” you coughed, cleared your throat, sounding more strained than you wanted to, “that I can’t really remember what my mom looks like. Not unless I looked at a photo.”

More silence, still warm, maybe hotter from the burn that lit up your skin. It felt a little like shame, maybe guilt, like your three year old mind was supposed to cling to the memory of the woman who left you, like you were supposed to remember the shape of her nose, the smell of her perfume, the colour that hid in the middle of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said too, and he sounded like he meant it as much as you did.

You both slept after that, each other’s secrets clutched to your chest and you dreamt of roadmaps and a blue, blue lake, where a brown eyed boy was waiting for you.

----

KO-FI ♡

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harringon fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things fic

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stobinesque · 11 months

Text

@steddie-week day 3: first kiss | 2.1k words | G or T

Steve and Robin were about halfway through a rewatch of Clue when the phone rang, and Steve was across the living room before it was halfway through its second ring. “What’s wrong?” He asked without preamble. His heart was already racing; too anxious to consider the possibility that it could be someone calling for his parents—or even that it might be a non-emergency call. It was past ten already, and most of The Party should have at least been pretending to sleep by then.

“Steve?” The voice on the other end of the line was a bit distant—drowned out by the staticky sound of rain hitting pavement.

“Eddie? Are you alright? Where are you? Did something happen?”

Eddies’ van was out of commission, so he’d been relying on rides from Steve and the rest of the Corroded Coffin crew to get him to and from places for the past few weeks. If he was out somewhere and in trouble, he was stranded there.

“Yeah—I-I mean, no. Nothing—nothing happened. Just—could you come get me?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?”

“I’m out at The Hideout.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in ten—maybe fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I said I’d be there in ten, Eddie.”

“Okay.”

Steve hung up the receiver and turned to make for the foyer to find Robin standing behind him—jacket on, back slung over one shoulder, and a pair of his shoes in one hand. “Picking Eddie up?”

“Yeah.” Steve took the shoes from her hands gratefully, and started pulling them on.

“Can you drop me off on the way without slowing yourself down?”

“Yeah, I budgeted Robin home-delivery time just in case.”

“Well, hop to it then, dingus.”

~*~*~*~

When Steve pulled up in front of The Hideout after dropping off a surprisingly acquiescent Robin (Eddie needs you more than I do right now, dingus), it was to find Eddie sitting atop one of the wheel stops of The Hideout’s small lot, looking like a drowned rat.

Eddie was up and yanking open the door to the beamer before Steve could so much as put it in park, and Steve pulled out of the lot as soon as Eddie had his seat belt buckled across him.

“You okay, mann?”

Eddie shrugged.

“What happened?”

“Don’t really wanna talk about it right now.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

“Sorry to interrupt movie night with the missus.”

Steve laughed. “She already forgives you. Provided that you were actually having a crisis and not just faking one as a ploy to get me alone with you.”

That startled a laugh out of Eddie in turn, and he turned in his seat to shoot Steve a mischievous grin. “Now, does that sound like something I would do, sweetheart?”

“According to Robin? Yes.”

“Ah, I see who the brains of the operation is, then.”

“Was that in question?”

“Well—whether or not there was a brain behind you and Robin’s whole deal was a little up in the air.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Silence fell between the two of them, and twenty seconds in Eddie started rooting around in Steve’s glove compartment.

“Dude. What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for a tape in here that doesn’t suck, man!”

“What are you talking about? We have, like, half the same taste in music!”

“Yeah, but the only thing you keep in your car are mixtapes! And I’m sorry, Steve, but some of the things the kids have made you are—objectively speaking—extremely cursed.”

“You could put in the one Robin made.”

“It’s hilarious that you think there’s only one Robin mixtape in here. But also: I’m not in the mood for Cyndi Lauper.”

“Cyndi Lauper’s not in the mood for you,” Steve snarked under his breath—more because he knew that’s what Robin would say if she was in the car with them than for any other reason. Raising his voice so that Eddie knew it was meant to be heard, he added, “I think there might be one from Jon in there?”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “Eugh. No thanks. My night’ been shit enough.” He kept rooting around for another minute or two, until— “Aha!” he emerged triumphant, an sparsely labeled tape held aloft in one hand. It looked like one that Steve had made for himself years ago—long before he’d gone knocking on the supernatural’s door. If he was guessing right, it was a mix of Queen, Bowie, and Fleetwood Mac. “How have I never found this one before?” Eddie asked.

“Because in spite of your loud protestations to the contrary, you usually just let whatever music is playing in the car happen to you.”

Eddie gave a considering hum as he stuffed his find into the tape deck. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The two of them fell silent again as “The Chain” poured from the speakers, and the rest of the ride passed without conversation, the only sounds between them besides the music was the steady beat of rain against the windshield, and Eddie’s fingers drumming along to the beat of the song.

~*~*~*~

Steve killed the engine as he pulled up in front of the Munsons’ trailer.

“Thanks for the ride,” Eddie said, pulling a strand of hair out to cover his mouth as he did so.

“Yeah—any time, dude.”

Eddie made to get out of the car, but froze in place as he leaned half-in, and half-out. “Could you—wanna come in?” There was a put-upon air of casualness to his tone in a way that made Steve suspect that he was being asked to stay the night. He wasn’t sure why Eddie felt so shy about the request, though—it wasn’t like this would be the first time.

“Oh. Yeah, man. Of course.” All he ever wanted was to be helpful. So Steve took his keys from the ignition, and trailed after Eddie as he led them both inside.

Eddie started peeling out of his soaked clothes before the front door had finished closing behind them, and made a beeline for his bedroom so he could pull on a pair of boxers and a bleach-stained t-shirt, before flopping down onto his bed. Steve followed after him, toeing his shoes off inside the door, and crawling into bed beside Eddie once he was finished changing.

"Wanna talk about it now?" he asked, as Eddie tucked himself up against his side.

Eddie shrugged. He took one of Steve's hands into both of his own and started idly playing with his fingers. "Bad date."

"Oh yeah? People aren't going mad over a metalhead who was only recently cleared of all murder charges?"

Eddie shoved at him. "Low blow, Harrington."

Steve stole his hand back to hold both of them up in surrender. "Sorry, man."

Eddie yanked Steve's hand back and held it covetously in both of his own, and Steve reached down with his own free one to tangle it into Eddie's wild mane of curls, which were still damp from the rain. "Whatever, dude. It wasn't that. He just…he was just kind of an asshole.” Eddie shrugged again, sounding a little resigned. “The regular kind."

Steve was silent, but ruffled his hand through Eddie's hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"I just…I don't know. I don't know why I even bother trying to go out on dates at this point.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's like…I don't know. Just feels like I'm chasing after something I'm never gonna find."

"I get that," Steve said, tone soft and understanding.

"Really? Figured you'd have people falling all over you."

Steve snorted. "I don't think I've gone on a date since I went to the championship game with Heidi back in March."

Eddie jerked a little in Steve’s grip. "Why not?" He sounded…genuinely very confused.

Steve shrugged. "I don't know, I just…haven’t really felt like it. Honestly, I’d already felt like I was circling the drain back at that point.”

“...Huh.”

They both went quiet, Steve still running one hand through Eddie’s hair, and Eddie still tangled his fingers through those of Steve’s other hand.

“So, how do you…?” Steve trailed off with a frown, unsure of how or whether he should finish his question.

“How do I…?”

“How do you, y’know, find guys? To go out with? Who you aren’t scared of knocking your lights out, that is.”

Eddie shifted in Steve’s arms to get a better look at him. “Wait, wait. Have you not been on a date with another guy yet, Harrington?”

“No…?”

“Then how did you—?”

“How did I, what?” Steve felt a little on edge; a little on the defensive. Like there was some unseen standard he wasn’t living up to.

“How’d you figure out you were into them, then?” Eddie sounded a little bewildered. A lot incredulous. “Figured you were the victim of a drunken make-out discovery or something.”

Steve laughed, because that did sound like him, but— “Nope. Never been kissed.” He tilted his head toward Eddie with a little smirk. “By a guy, that is.”

Eddie propped himself up on one arm and stared at Steve like he was a puzzle to be solved, and there was a glint in his eye that made the hair along the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. “D’you wanna be?”

Steve’s heart skipped a bit, and his hand stilled in Eddie’s hair. “Uh…what do you mean?”

“Do you wanna be kissed? By a guy?”

Steve laughed, feeling awkward. “Are you offering?”

Eddie shrugged, just a touch too casual. “Sure, why not?”

“I don’t know. Wouldn't it be weird?”

“Doesn’t have to be weird if you don’t make it weird, man.”

Steve turned that over. It’s not like he and Eddie didn’t already spend most of the time they spent alone together tangled up in one another. There was a quasi-romantic edge to their friendship that Steve wasn’t really used to—well. Except for with Robin. But that was different, for obvious reasons. And, granted, the dynamic between him and Tommy had been…intense, but it still hadn’t felt like this.

Regardless—kissing Eddie wouldn’t change anything about their friendship if they didn’t want it to. “I guess you’re right.”

Eddie half-turned in Steve’s arms. “Yeah?”

Steve repositioned himself so that they were facing each other, hitching one shoulder up in a nonchalant little shrug. “Sure, why not?” he parroted back.

Eddie smiled, and it made his whole face go soft and gentle in a way that had Steve’s stomach twisting up in knots. Oh, he’s beautiful.

Eddie reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear, and then let his hand drift along the line of Steve’s jaw until he was gently gripping his chin between two fingers. Steve’s lips parted in anticipation, and the two of them breathed into the silent space they’d created between them. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and his arms breaking out in goosebumps.

It didn’t make any sense though. It wasn’t like it was his real first kiss. And he’d known he was attracted to men for ages, even if he’d never acted on it. It wasn’t even exactly news to him that he found Eddie attractive. But…none of their interactions had been this charged before.

Eddie closed the space between them, and pressed a gentle, but firm kiss to Steve’s lips, grinding the trajectory of Steve’s thoughts to a halt. It was a simple kiss. And it could have remained like that—soft, sweet, and almost chaste—except that Steve couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp in response, as his breath hitched in his throat.

He should pull back. He knew he should pull back—but he’d always been greedy, and Eddie was making no move to put any distance between the two of them either. So Steve surged forward, capturing Eddie’s lips into a more passionate kiss, and savoring the small whine it elicited. Eddie gave as good as he got, winding an arm around Steve’s waist, and slotting a thigh between both of Steve’s legs with a force that startled a little “Mmpf!” from him.

All in all, the kiss probably lasted little more than a few moments. But for all Steve knew, whole civilizations could have risen and fallen in that soft, gray space of time he and Eddie had their lips pressed together.

He wasn’t sure who finally broke away, but once they did, both of their breaths came short and heavy.

“That was…really good?” Steve said, a high-pitched note of giddiness and wonder in his tone.

Eddie smiled with cheshire-style grin, eyelids heavy and low. “Yeah? Wanna make it even better?”

Steve smiled right back. “I think I might.”

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie week #steddieweek2023 #steddie fic #once again just past the cut off in my timezone #also once again did not think I was gonna do anything for this day but then had an idea pop into my head at like...7pm #this one is mostly dialogue folks!#open ended as to whether or not this is capital r Romantic or just moves into a fun and genuinely platonic/qp fwb situation #as someone who falls in love/lust with friends super easily either works for me #i wanted to explore the quasi-romantic/sexual friendship that often exists within queer friendships #read writes

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

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so excited for your ficletfest bestie!! i'd love to request mutual pining with eddie!

Since I've Been Loving You • Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: working at the radio station on valentine's day is the worst... • 2023 Vday ficlet fest masterlist

Being stuck in traffic, paying taxes, crying babies in a movie theater, are all things you’d rather put up with than working on Valentine’s day.

It’s the absolute worst day to be working at the radio station. All damn day, answering calls of sappy people requesting love songs for their significant others. You loathe it. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with people flaunting the bouquets of roses, boxes of chocolates and cards that everyone in the office got except for you. Nothing to do with the fact that all your friends already have dates and they wouldn’t be able to hang out with you.

Nothing to do whatsoever, with Eddie not being here, today, out of all days.

By the end of your shift your lip would be all chewed up and your cuticles peeled back. Your eyes keep flicking from the wall clock to the door of your booth, yearning for his figure bursting in and dropping a selection of his personal picks to play on the radio, like always.

Eddie works in the archives, as one of the curators at the station. He always chooses the greatest records to play, and even has a daily habit of leaving you little notes on certain tracks when he drops off the selection for the day onto your desk. He’s gifted you mixtapes that you cherish as if they’re worth all the gold in the world. His music taste is absolutely exquisite, and he’s so intelligent and witty and funny and handsome, the absolute man of your dreams, whom you’ve been pining for since you started working here, and…and he’d never like you that way.

How could he? Why would he, of all people? No one you ever have a crush on reciprocates your feelings, it’s just something that doesn’t happen to you. And you’re at peace with it now. Plus, what a silly thing it is – to be having a crush at your age. And on a co-worker!? No way.

Still, you cling to whatever remnant of hope you have left to at least see him today. That would brighten up your day immediately.

But your shift soon comes to a close and Eddie’s nowhere in sight.

You grumble when the last ring of the day comes through, fumbling with the telephone cord before picking up the call –

– through the static, a familiar voice tunes in.

“Hey there! the name’s Eddie Munson and, okay, so! I uh, I’d like to dedicate this song to my favorite person ever, who I think might be totally clueless. I’ve been dropping hints, giving them mixtapes and notes and shit – oops, sorry, not supposed to swear on the air.” Eddie chuckles.

Your heart must’ve freaking thrusted out of your chest into the stratosphere.

“But yeah, so, if they check under the pile of records on their desk, they’ll know which song I’d like to request. They’re keen on Zeppelin, so I thought that track was it, ya know. Happy Valentine’s day, babe! This is for you!”

The second he disconnects, you scramble through the box of tapes to see that buried underneath the pile is a copy of Led Zeppelin’s “III”, with a post- it that reads, “track 4” with Eddie’s handwriting on sharpie.

With trembling hands, you put on the tape and flick the ‘on air’ button of your console, speaking to the audience.

“Coming up next! ‘Since I’ve Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin! As requested by our last caller of the day. Safe to say, your message has been received, Eddie.”

You giggle as the track begins to play.

The grin that now stretches your cheeks wide couldn’t be wiped down even if you tried, and all those silly butterflies in your stomach now roam free inside of you, as you listen to the lyrics of the song and realize you’ve been such a fool.

Such a great fool.

Too immersed in denial, afraid of being hurt again, that you were terribly oblivious that all this time, after all, your feelings were returned.

What a wonderful, surreal feeling.

More so, when Eddie finally opens up the door to your booth, with a bouquet of roses and a goofy grin that makes your heart thump — even quicker when he wraps you in a bear hug, murmuring into your hair, “Fucking finally babe!”

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting besties!! I think you're the ones that have been my mutuals for the longest time! Happy Valentine's day, hope you enjoyed this! x

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #gender neutral reader #eddie munson fanfiction #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #stranger things #vday ficlet fest #joseph quinn #my writing

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sailoryooons · 2 years

Note

Established relationship with yoongi. He needs some inspiration for his new mixtape and someone offers him to add some moaning sounds to his new track. And his girlfriend offers to record these in studio for real.

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi has been lacking inspiration in the studio. When one of his coworkers suggests using some out-of-the-box background effects for his music, Yoongi realizes that you’re the perfect person to help him.

❀ Word Count: 1,486

❀ Genre: Established relationship, pwp

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, recording sexual encounters (audio), heavy making out, light grinding, Min Yoongi’s tongue tech

❀ Published: August 6, 2022

❀ A/N: THE ANSWER IS YES. IMMEDIATELY YES. I tweaked it just a tad because I actually had like a shell of something like this in my drafts from two months ago that never went anywhere, and then this beautiful ask was bestowed on me so I tweaked it a bit for this. I hope you enjoy 🥵 SHOUT OUT TO THE AMAZING @here2bbtstrash FOR BEING MY BETA ON THIS. I AM VERY BAD AT EDITING AND M MAKES MY LIFE SO MUCH EASIER I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust Request Fill |

Yoongi: Can you come to the studio? Need some help with a track. If you’re busy, no problem. Just needing some inspiration and had a few ideas.

Me: Of course, baby. Want me to bring anything on the way?

Yoongi: Wine?

Me: You got it. Be there in 30.

When you get to the studio, you’re surprised to find Yoongi not in the control room as usual, but in the live room where he’s seemingly checking the mic. Seeing no one else around, you pop your head inside, catching his attention.

He grins, making your heart flutter at the sight. Yoongi is always beautiful- calm expression with intelligent eyes, mouth prone to smirking, a laugh deep and soft that makes your toes curl. But there’s something about his current outfit that drives you a little mad: plain white tee stretched across broad shoulders, straight black jeans that emphasize what little ass he has, and a backward hat over his dyed-blonde hair.

“What are you doing in here?” You ask from the door as he finishes adjusting the microphone.

“Come in here.”

“I’ve told you a million times that I won’t sing for you.” You nod toward the mic and put your hand on your hip.

He smirks and crosses his arms. You eye the way his veins jump, making your mouth water a bit. You had never understood the obsession with people’s hands until you started dating Yoongi. Now, you get it. His hands – and arms by extension – are lovely. Artful. Sinful.

“I said, come in here.”

There’s little denying him when he uses that tone of voice, so you slip inside and shut the door behind you, the soft click chasing your heels as you cross the space. He doesn’t have headphones out or any gear, so you furrow your brows as he looks you over. He meets you halfway, taking the wine out of your hand and setting it on a stool off to the side.

“What’s going on?” You ask as soon as he comes back and put his hands on your hips. You feel the warmth of his hands through your shirt. Your heart jumps a bit, the smell of his woody cologne making you dizzy. Yoongi makes you dizzy in general, especially when he just smirks and guides you toward the couch.

“I told you, I have an idea and I need your help.”

“Oh, really?”

He sets you gently on the couch, dropping down to his knees. Your legs fall open immediately, staring down at him as your breath quickens. Fuck, is this the idea? Your heart is stuck in your throat as his hands skate up your thighs to your shorts, tugging a little.

“Will you let me draw pretty sounds from you, hmm?” He leans forward and nips at the inside of your knee, making your hips cant a little. You can feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of what he’s asking. “Want you to be featured in my music,” he continues, kissing your inner thighs and leaving a wet trail. “Wanna hear you cum on my tracks.”

“Fuck,” you breathe as his hands work the button of your shorts. You let him pull you out of them, the denim scraping down your legs. Your panties already feel damp as he brushes his thumb over them, up and down up and down. Your eyes flutter shut. “This was your idea?”

“Mhmm. Joon suggested making the song sexier.” He presses on your clit and you moan loudly, sparks shooting where he applies pressure. “What’s better than the sounds you make when I eat you out, hmm?”

“Yoongi.”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

“Do I have your permission?”

“Yes, please just touch me.”

His chuckle is soft and raspy as he pulls your underwear down slowly. He curses when he sees how wet you are for him, licking his lips as he fixates on you. You look at him, half-lidded when all he’s done is brush his lips against your knees and inner thighs.

“Fuck, you always get so worked up for me.” He traces your slick slit with his index finger and you squirm, watching and panting. You didn’t come here to be teased, a whine slipping out of your lips as he traces your clit lazily. “Gonna cum on my tongue for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you beg.

Yoongi is slow when he leans in, tongue languidly licking you up from your core, sucking on your clit gently. You sigh in relief as he repeats the motion, preferring to savor your taste as he licks you up and down, building tension and making you buzz.

You’re not quiet, especially when he takes your clit in his mouth again and sucks gently. You dig your head back into the couch, hand shooting to his head. You knock the hat off of his head to grip his hair, making him laugh. It vibrates right through you, making you shut your eyes as he continues.

Everything feels warm. It’s like you’re short of breath as he continues, making messy noises as he sucks at you, doing the most so you can hear the way you drip for him. Yoongi eats pussy the same way he enjoys other things he likes: with vigor, focus and sounds of pleasure.

Hearing him makes you quake. His fingers press into your thighs, spreading you open for him as he shoves his face deeper into your pussy, sucking hard at your clit. Your muscles twitch under his ministrations, eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp, one hand squeezing his hair tight enough to make him growl, the other squeezing the pillow next to you.

“Cum then,” he mutters between fucking his tongue into your hole. You gasp at the feeling. You tremble at the way he skillfully prods your entrance, looking up at you, sides of his lips curved in a smirk and glistening from your slick. “Love when you cum on my tongue. Make the prettiest fucking noises and you taste so good.”

“Shit.”

And then he does the thing he knows would drive you insane – he leans up a bit, gathers his saliva, and spits directly on your pussy as he sticks two fingers inside of you, massaging that soft spot inside of you.

For a moment, you think you see God. Everything in you squeezes – your eyes, your legs, your lungs, your soul. For a moment, you can’t breathe and all you can hear is your distant scream as you cum, and your vision goes white.

Yoongi slows his fingers, stroking you through your orgasm and kissing your thighs. You’re vaguely aware that he’s speaking to you. Fuck I love when you do that. Squeezing my fucking fingers. Just like that baby, so fucking hot.

When you’re finally able to breathe again, you look down to see Yoongi looking up at you, smirking, mouth covered in your cum. His eyes are dark, hungry. Your legs feel like jello and your heart races in your chest, a wild drum that you can’t slow down.

You already know what he wants when he asks, “Another?”

“Mmm wan’ suck you off.”

“Hmmm … after one more. You can cum on my tongue again for me, yeah?

You’re busy making dinner when Yoongi comes home from a day of finishing off his editing for his album. He slips behind you and gives you a hug from behind as you stir dinner. You grin as he gives you a kiss on the side of your neck.

“Hello,” you greet gently, turning to meet his lips for a quick peck. He’s soft around the edges today, finally relaxed now that he’s done with the hard part of his album. “You’re back early.”

“Went smooth.” He drops his stuff on the island and walks over to where music is pumping out from your phone. He disconnects you from the Bluetooth speakers and connects his. “I have a new song for you to hear- it’s track 11 on the album.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm.” He grunts, finding it and playing. It starts with a nice beat, something lowkey and kind of sexy. But then you hear it, making you spin quickly, ladle in hand, to see him all out laughing.

“EEEEK!” You scream, barely able to hear the sound of you moaning layered on top of other adlibs and sounds. You know that most people may not be able to hear it, but you sure can. “YOU ACTUALLY USED IT?”

“Your voice is fit for music, baby.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Shhh … this will be your favorite part.” There’s a pause as the beat switches, but not without an audible sound of spitting.

In an instant, you become hot and bothered. Yoongi grins at you knowingly, walking into the kitchen and flicking the burner off as he looks down at you. “Can dinner wait, baby?”

“Yes. It absolutely can wait.”

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bangtan boys #haliiimede writes #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic #suga bts #yoongi x you #suga smut #yoongi x reader #halishappyagust #haliiimede requests

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athena-writes-i-guess · 1 year

Note

What if Eddie is super poor on fem readers 18th birthday because the van needed some emergency repairs. He feels bad so he takes her camping and makes pot brownies, fixes up an old chain as a bracelet for her, makes her s’mores and promises to give her 18 orgasms. He doesn’t get to 18 lol but he gets close haha

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A/N: Hello! Thank you so so much for this request! I’m so sorry if took me so long to get to, but I’ve loved working on this! I really hope that you like it as much as I loved making it! I don’t know if you were looking for full smut but I don’t really write smut(yet ;) ) so I made it more suggestive than descriptive if that’s okay!

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: fluff, language, suggestive scenes and language, Eddie being hopelessly in love with the reader

**pictures not mine, found on Pinterest**

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck anxiously as he looked over everything he had packed in the back of his van. The two of you had just made it to the edge of Lovers Lake, ready to camp for the night. It was your birthday, you were turning 18 today and he was worried that you wouldn’t like what he had planned for you. This was the fifth birthday he would get to spend with you and he was excited to celebrate you as best as he could, even though he wasn’t able to do everything he had wanted for you. You and Eddie had met in the 7th grade and became fast friends, Eddie had immediately fell for you, a young boyhood crush that had never left him. The two of you had been best friends for years as he pined from afar. Until one day, two years ago, while cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, you turned to him and asked, “So when are you finally gonna ask me out on a date, huh, Munson?” He remembered the bright, cheeky, smile that appeared on your face when he had blushed and stumbled over his words. And how soft your lips had been when you cut off his rambling with a sweet kiss.

“Whatcha smiling about, honey?” You mused as you wrapped your arms around his waist from the side, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked at him with a fond smile.

“Just thinking about when you told me to ask you out.” He teased, wrapping his arm around you as you laughed lightly.

“Best decision you ever made.” You said cheekily, repeating the words he had said to you many times in your tender moments.

“Damn fuckin’ right it was.” He chuckled, pulling you fully into him and peppering kisses in your hair as he swayed the two of you to the song pulsing through the speakers of the van from the mixtape he made you for the day. “Something happens and I’m head over heels, I never find out until I’m head over heels.” He sang along softly, screeching out the high note loudly before relishing in your giggles as he started spinning you around, dancing along to the song.

Eddie spun you out, holding on to your hand as he shot you a devilish wink before pulling you back into his chest as the song faded out. You beamed up at him as you found yourself back in his embrace, “I love you, silly boy.” You said happily.

“I love you more, sweet girl.” He said before capturing your lips in a heated kiss, pulling a soft moan from you as you clutched his vest tighter in your hands. You could feel him smile in clear satisfaction against your lips before he pulled away from you, his smile widening at seeing the dazed and hungry look on your face. “Soon babygirl. Very soon.” He cooed, biting his lip lightly as he gazed at you.

He led you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the back of the open van. He lifted you easily to sit you on his mattress that he had laid in there for you to sleep on tonight. Not wanting either of you to have to sleep on the cold, damp ground when he could cuddle you in his sheets like you would most nights. “You stay here and eat these while I make up a fire.” He said softly, dropping a ziplock bag full of brownies in your lap before placing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Start with only one, sweet thing. They’re extra special.” He grinned with a wink as you smiled brightly, pulling one out to eat as he started gathering the dry logs he had brought for the fire.

“Eddie Munson knows how to start a fire?” You teased as you took a bite of the gooey chocolate, a faint hint of weed mixing with flavors of the sweet dessert.

“You learn a lot of things in the scouts, sweetheart.” He smiled at you as he worked.

“You were a Boy Scout?” You asked curiously, having never heard about this before.

“I was!.” He exclaimed, “Well,” He looked at you sheepishly, “I was until they kicked me out.” He laughed, taking a look at your questioning expression, “Turns out, they really care about that whole honesty thing. And some other kid ratted me out for lying about my badges.” He took a moment to bask in your laughter. “I never was good at tying knots.” He said, shooting a smile your way before going back to his work.

Some time later you found yourself feeling light and fuzzy as you laid on your side on the mattress, watching Eddie work with a dopey little grin on your face. You watched hungrily as the muscles in his arms flexed deliciously as he lifted the wood and carried it around, wishing that you were in those toned arms right now. You whopped loudly as he bent forward in front of you, his tight ass on full display as he lit the paper he had laid in the wood. He turned back to you with a raised eyebrow once the fire was lit, beaming as he saw you fall into a fit of laughter at your own silliness.

“You doing alright, baby?” Eddie said with a knowing smile as he walked over to you. “Feeling all..floaty?” He asked with a little wave of his hand, trying to remember the word you always used when you were high.

“The floatiest.” You giggled, sitting up so you could pull Eddie to sit down on the mattress next to you so you could watch the sunset together over the lake. You wrapped your arms around his arm, hugging it to your chest as you sighed dreamily as the sky turned pink and orange.

“I have this for you sweetheart.” Eddie said bashfully, handing you a small cardboard box. “I know I couldn’t do as much as I wanted to today, this old pile of shit just had to act up right before.” He chuckled lightly as he hit the side of the van. “But I made this for you. I hope you like it, sweet thing.” He said, watching you anxiously as you lifted the lid.

There sitting in the box looked to be a thick, silver chain. You pulled it out, running your fingers over the cold metal until they found a small metal ‘E’ in the middle, clearly having been bent into form by the boy sitting next to you. You beamed up at him as you held it and your wrist up to him. “Will you put it on me Eds?” You asked, sharing a smile with the metalhead before he closed the clasp around your wrist. “I love it so much, baby.” You said before placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, for this-” you said, holding up your wrist, “and for all of this.” You finished, gesturing to the scenery around you. It truly felt magical and like you were the only people in the world. “It means more to me than I can say.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat in his chest at the way you looked at him, like he was the most important person in your world. And maybe he was, you were to him after all, but he had always had a hard time believing you felt the same. But when you looked at him like this, with more love and adoration in your eyes than he ever thought possible, it felt easy, like breathing air. You made him feel like he was worth a damn.

“It was my pleasure, angel.” He said, the adoration in his eyes making you flush under their intensity. “I love you, Happy birthday.”

“I love you too, Eddie.” You said happily as you snuggled into his side.

“What some s’mores baby?” He questioned, holding up a bag of marshmallows with a smile as he watched your eyes widen in excitement.

“Yes please!” You exclaimed, giggling at your own eagerness.

“I’ll make you some baby, stay right here.” He said, kissing the top of your head as he detached himself and walked to the fire with his supplies.

“I’m going to have another brownie while I wait!” You announced, pulling another piece out.

“Be careful baby, I have some more- eh- gifts to give you later.” He warned, shooting you a heated look as he looked you up and down like you were the sweet dessert on the menu. And to him, you were.

You felt your skin heat up and flush under the look and you bit your lip lightly as all sorts of dirty thoughts entered your mind rapidly. “I can’t wait, pretty boy.” You shot back before taking a bite out of the treat.

A little while later the two of you were giggling together staring up at the stars as you ate your s’mores, you were showing him all the constellations you remembered as he made up names for all the ones you didn’t. “Oh that one? That’s the bat, when the God Ozzy bit off the beast's head, he was honored by becoming the constellation we see in the sky now.” He said, pointing to a random cluster near the horizon.

“Oh of course, I forgot they left that one out of the books.” You laughed, shooting your boyfriend a teasing smile as you finished the last of the s’more he made you.

Eddie smiled back at you, “Here baby, you’ve got some chocolate…” he said leaning in before capturing your lips with his. You let out a squeaked of surprise as he smiled into the kiss at your reaction. He kissed you hungrily as he leaned you back onto the mattress, relishing in the low moan that came from you as he prodded his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

He pulled back after a few moments, his breathing heavy as he looked at you heatedly. “I promised you a few more gifts right, sweet thing?” He asked, his thumb rubbing a small circle into your skin as he gripped your hip. A knowing smirk on his face as he watched you bite your lip and nod your head.

Eddie leaned over you again, his lips ghosting over yours lightly, teasingly pulling back whenever you tried to kiss him fully. “I’m gonna give you at least 18 orgasms tonight, okay baby?” He asked, his eyes intense as he gazed into your dazed, lust-filled, ones. “Think you can try to give me 18, pretty thing?” He cooed, kissing you lightly as you nodded into the kiss enthusiastically. Eddie smiled against your lips. “Good girl.” He mused, kissing his way down your body, determined to make you feel as good as possible on your special day.

He didn’t make it to 18 that night, but he made it very close before you were a whining, moaning, mess under him. You were fully exhausted and more blissed out than you had ever felt before. “Thank you for the best birthday, Eddie.” You said sleepily as you cuddled into your boyfriend's warm, bare, chest.

“My pleasure, pretty girl. I love you so much.” He beamed happily, holding you tight to him as he pulled the covers around you both as you drifted off mumbling how you loved him too.

Taglist: @srapalestina @yvonneeeee @aroseinvelaris @anaisweird @mrslovesmayahawke @harrys-titties @becca-alexa @catacina

(So sorry! I realized I forgot to add the tag list!)

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tinted-skies · 2 years

Text

small confessions with dream

Mark `~ Mark was blabbing about how good Justin Bieber's new song was, commenting on how perfect the lyrics were and how he couldn't wait to learn its melody on the guitar. You, however, just sat there, passively nodding, not matching his energy at all.

"You haven't listened to the song yet, have you?" He asked, finally noticing your lack of excitement.

"I just don't really care about him that much to be honest..."

Mark's jaw dropped, making you genuinely worried that he would dislocate it.

After the initial shock he'd be chill about it, respecting your opinion. But once you show the tiniest bit of interest in the artist, you can bet he'll show up a day later with a playlist (or maybe even a mixtape) of his favourite songs.

Renjun `~ It was around midnight when Renjun sent you a reddit post. OP claimed to have seen a real ovni, which made you giggle.

You joked around the topic with your boyfriend, believing his comments were just as sarcastic as yours. But soon enough, you realised that wasn't exactly the case.

"I don't believe in aliens, though..." You confessed, which lead to him leaving the text app. Was he really leaving you on read over this-

And in a milisecond he was back, flooding you with articles, videos and podcasts with "genuine proof" of alien life.

After that night, Renjun made it his life mission to make you see his point of view. And it honestly didn't even surprise you when you once watched him scroll on his phone only to find out that he was part of alien stan twitter.

Jeno `~ "I'm never, ever, doing this again." A voice echoed, followed by the front door slamming shut.

Yet another friend who gave up on being Jeno’s workout partner... You couldn't really blame them though, you had heard that things could get intense during bike day. In Jaemin's own words, Jeno ran "that shit like the military" and to be honest you didn't even know whether you found that insanely attractive or just straight up scary.

After giving his friend a very dramatic eye roll, his eyes dropped on you, the look on his eyes shifting from annoyance to... determination?

No, no, no, no no. No way in hell you would "tagg along" in his "fun bike rides". You knew better than to fall for that.

"I don't even know how to ride a bike, so don't get any ideas." You revealed, hoping that would save you ass. But much to your dismay your confession had the exact opposite effect, instanly leading to him dragging you outside to teach you.

The days after, you wouldn't get a break, him forcing you to go on mandatory bike dates since they were "good for practice".

Haechan `~ It was around 4 in the morning, meaning that everyone at the dorms was asleep. Everyone except you, who stood in the kitchen, water glass in hand.

The dead silence of the night was soon interrupted by the sound of someone tiredly dragging their feet. Haechan entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes while letting out a yawn. It took him a while to spot you, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion once he did so.

"Can't sleep when I'm stressed..." You explained quietly, to which he nodded understandingly. Although never having faced the stress of finals, he could imagine it to be similar to the stress he felt during comeback season.

"You know what I normally do when I can't sleep?" He whispered walking closer to you, voice rough as he had just woken up.

"Play overwatch." He answered his own question.

"I've never played overwatch, though..." You confessed, your words making Haechan smile softly.

He had waited for this moment for a very long time, the two loves of his life were finally meeting and he suddenly felt like he was on the clouds.

He guided you to his room, turned on his computer and taught you how to play. You played in the dark of his bedroom until the sun started peaking through the courtains.

Jaemin `~ He could swear agreeing to come pick you up had been the best decision of his life.

You had just got out of your best friend's party and were a bit tipsy. Jaemin had never really seen you like this before but boy was he in for a treat. He had always found you extremely entertaining but the drinks seemed to have taken away your inhibitions, complete nonsense coming out of your mouth. He almost had to stop the car a few times from how hard he was chuckling.

Right now you were ranting about how hard relationships were and how happy you were for not being in one.

"Hate to break it to you, baby, but we're dating." He interrupted.

"Oh- yes! You're right! About that- don't get me wrong, I really, really loooove PDA..." He glanced at you curiously before looking back at the road, intrigued.

"However-... I prefer it when we're alone." You concluded your confession with hesitation, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but Jaemin could only smile at your words.

"Damn, I always knew English wasn't your biggest strenght but you know what PDA stands for, right?"

"Of course I do" You answered dramatically, taking his words to heart. "Public display of affection." You stated proudly.

You really were a mess tonight and if you kept talking, then he was sure his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much. You really were going to be the death of him...

Chenle `~ You and Chenle had plopped on the couch after having lunch together and had no intentions of getting up any time soon. Both of you barely moved the entire evening, just lazily scrolling through your phones.

Getting bored of every other app on your phone, you clicked on twitter. When you saw a tweet announcing Seventeen's new comeback you let out an excited squeal, catching Chenle’s attention. He raised an eyebrow at you but decided not to question it, simply smiling at your cuteness before going back to the game on his phone.

The way he looked at you had made you a bit shy, but all of that was forgotten when you came across a certain fancam.

Your eyes slightly widened at the sight, your boyfriend really was a great performer, no matter how many times you watched him on stage, you would always find it mindblowing. Not to mention this choreo had always been one of your favourites and damn, you really were a sucker for his black hair...

Before you knew it, you had seen the damned video 4 times already. It was muted but you could swear you could listen to it perfectly in your head.

Nevertheless, you decided to unmute it, instanly regretting it when the sound blasted off your phone. Slightly panicking you paused the fancam but, much to your dismay, Chenle had already recognized the song.

This made him move closer to you, glancing at your phone only to confirm his suspicions. He stared at you with a look of disbelief, nodding in disappointment.

"For fuck's sake, Y/N, it's been 2 years already! Get over it!" He shouted jokingly before getting up and leaving your side.

"I just think Ridin' was your best era, okay?" You called out just as loud, confessing dramatically what he already knew.

Jisung `~ He hated morning recording sessions. He had to go on the SUV all alone and sing the same lines over and over again while barely awake. Today's session had wasted 3 hours of his day, but fortunately he was now finally free.

Jisung arrived to the dorm only to find you already there, on the kitchen table with two cups of coffee and a pile of pancakes on a plate. He awed at the way you not only had gotten up super early, but also had been waiting for him so you could eat breakfast together.

At that moment he swore you were the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

"What's all of this?" He asked as he sat in the chair in front of you. You felt yourself softening upon hearing his raspy voice.

You and Jisung were very close but it wasn't often that you'd be so straightforward at expressing your affection towards each other.

That being said, you were truly taking a risk by setting this whole scene up, which didn't go unnoticed by your best friend, who couldn't help but wonder if your actions had any kind of second intentions. And although you didn't really want to admit it... deep down you guessed they did.

"Ahmn..." You pondered your next words. "I just like you, I guess..." You shrugged it off, deciding to keep the situation nonchalant.

Your sudden confession was subtle (and painfully honest), yet broad enough to leave the boy wondering if your words meant something more. And they did, but he didn't have to know it just yet.

Little did you know that Jisung was fighting the urge to reveal that he felt the same exact way about you. <3

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alipal97 · 1 month

Text

Listen Before I Go

Mixtape Masterlist

Side A: Listen Before I Go- Billie Eilish

Side B: Are You With Me- Nilu

Summary: you and the rest of Camp Half-Blood are fighting for your lives in the Battle of Manhattan but not everyone makes it out alive

Warnings: this is super sad(I apologize for nothing), mentions of death, mentions of blood, crying, swearing, violence, angst, semi happy ending

The entire scene was pure chaos. Swords clashed, and arrows flew through the air, finding their mark. Everyone shouted to their friends, ensuring everyone was still alive and fighting, while Percy shouted his final commands to win the battle. You were so close to winning. Kronos's army had nearly fallen and you were so close to going home.

You swung your sword through the air in a slashing motion in an attempt to take out your final opponent. Sweat covered your brow, and your arms felt weak from the exertion, but you wouldn't give up now; you were so close. Your opponent lunged forward, and you dodged the attack as best you could before lunging forward with your weapon, your blade hitting its mark as the enemy burst into a pile of ash.

At long last, Kronos's army had been defeated, and you were victorious. The wind whipped your hair around your face as you stumbled back. You twisted to search for your friends, hissing when a sharp pain radiated from your side, bringing you to your knees. Your breath was heavy as you pressed a hand to your torso, pulling your hand away to find your fingers stained red with your own blood.

Tears stung your eyes as you realized what had happened. You had been run through with your enemy's sword, and you felt yourself growing weak as your blood spilled onto the ground beneath you. Your eyes searched the battlefield around you as you took a shaky breath. Friends hugged each other, and partners were captured in relieved embraces. Everyone was all right; your friends were alive, and that's all that mattered.

In the distance, you could hear your name being called but you couldn't find the strength to yell back. The yelling grew more panicked as more of your friends began to call your name, not yet seeing you kneeling on the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

"Y/n!" Luke yelled again, his voice growing closer.

His whistle followed soon after, a tradition you started when the two of you were just kids. One would whistle out into the open, and the other would whistle back to signal they were all right. Tears slipped from your eyes as you used the last of your strength to whistle back.

I'm here. I'm okay. The whistle states, even though it couldn't be further from the truth. You were dying, and there wasn't anything to be done about it. No amount of praying could save you now, and you could already feel the tight hold Hades now had on you. You briefly wondered if you prayed to Hades to spare you, if he would.

Sounds of footsteps crunching against the rubble nearby alerted you to someone approaching quickly but you no longer had the strength to lift your head.

"Gods, Y/N, we've been looking everywhere for you. We-" Percy stopped dead in his tracks as he drew closer. He took in your blood-soaked shirt and pale skin, immediately falling to his knees next to you. "Y/N, what happened? Look at me." You tried to lift your head to look at your friend, but it was too much. You slumped over, your body going limp, and Percy's strong arms wrapped around you before you could fall to the ground.

"Percy, who—" Annabeth saw her boyfriend holding your limp and barely conscious body. She turned over her shoulder, shouting to Luke. "Luke, over here!"

The tone of her voice sent a jolt through Luke's body as he sprinted across the battlefield, skidding to a halt when he saw you lying on Percy's arms. The younger boy turned to him with tears in his blue eyes, his bottom lip wobbling. Luke dropped quickly to his knees beside him, allowing you to be transferred into his own arms.

Luke felt absolutely helpless in that moment, not knowing what to do or how to help you but he knew he had to do something. He couldn't let you die. You were his lifeline and he couldn't imagine going through life without you by his side. Luke pulled you in closer, noting that you were already starting to go cold.

"We have to do something." He said as he looked to Percy and Annabeth for help, tears falling down his cheeks, following the path of his scar.

Your eyes were blurry and your cheeks tear stained as you tried to focus on your boyfriend's face. You lifted your hand to his cheek with great effort and turned his face to look back at you. Your thumb wiped away at his tears but only more replaced them.

"Luke-" you whispered, your voice raspy and broken.

Luke raised his hand from your bleeding torso to push your sweat-soaked hair from your face, attempting a small smile that turned into more of a grimace.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Luke," you said, firmer this time. It took an insane amount of energy to speak, but you refused to leave without telling him what you needed to. "I need-"

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. His dark curls fell into his eyes with the motion. "Don't speak. We're going to get you help, okay? Help is on the way."

"Don't. Want. Help." You spoke in a broken sentence. "No time."

"Hey, don't say that. You're gonna be okay."

You shook your head and held his face more firmly in your hands. "Listen, before I go-"

Luke's face scrunched up in anger. "You're not going anywhere, Y/N!"

"Yes, I am, and we both know it, so listen before it's too late."

Luke looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead, he shut his mouth and nodded sadly.

"I love you, Luke Castellan, and I know you like no one else. I know that when I'm gone, you'll distance yourself and self-destruct, but I need you to stay strong for me. Don't push people away; let them in and let them help you. You are not your father's son, Luke. You are not wicked or damaged. You are your mother's son. You are loving, caring, and sweet. Make her proud. Make me proud, baby."

You leaned up to place a soft kiss on his lips and that's when Luke finally broke. Sobs wrecked his body as he held you tightly, burying his face in your hair as he cried and pleaded with you to stay.

"I have to go, baby. I'm so sorry." You took a deep breath, wanting to bask in the comforting smell of him once more. You winced with the action but only continued to breath him in until you felt a cold coin being pressed into your palm.

You opened your hand to find a single, golden drachma sitting in the center of your palm. Your eyes lifted to look at Percy, who was already looking down with tears falling down his pink cheeks. A sobbing Annabeth was tucked into his chest.

"For the fair." He said simply.

Percy had given you the fair that would need to be paid to Charon to gain access to the Underworld. You smiled over Luke's shoulder at your friend for the sweet gesture.

"I'll see you guys someday, yeah?" Your eyes flick between the three, and they all nod, their throats too thick with tears and sobs threatening to escape to speak.

"We'll meet you in Elysium." Annabeth said with a shaky voice.

You smiled and looked up to the darkened sky. "I'll race ya." And with that you took your last breath, the once vibrant light in your eyes fading to nothingness.

15 years later

"Y/n?"

You had been wandering through the beautiful golden fields, allowing your fingers to brush along the tops of the wheat as you passed when you heard a voice calling out to you. It may have been years since you passed, or so you assumed since time moved differently in the Underworld, but you would never forget that voice, no matter how much time had passed.

You turned in the direction of the voice, hopeful but hesitant since Hades was known for playing tricks. What you saw before you made your breath catch in your throat. Across the field stood Luke, about fifteen years older, but still your Luke. His dark curls still fell just so over his forehead, ending just before his golden brown eyes that now had faint laugh lines around the edges.

You took one hesitant step forward and then two before you were sprinting across the sunlit field and into his open arms. He caught you effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he swung you in a circle. The two of you held each other tightly for a moment before Luke crashed his lips into yours, tasting you for the first time in over a decade and it was even better than he remembered.

You pulled away first for no other reason than wanting to just look at him. Luke leaned down, resting his forehead against your own, his smile causing his scar to stretch tightly over his cheek.

"I'm so proud of you." You spoke with a soft smile on your lips. You weren't able to watch Luke or your friends from here but whenever a Half-Blood came to the Underworld, you made sure to question them about the three, gaining more than enough knowledge about them to tide you over until you saw them again.

"Life has been hell without you, gorgeous, and I don't ever plan on letting you go ever again. You're stuck with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." You placed another kiss to his lips before pulling away just as fast, a sudden thought striking you. "Percy and Beth?"

"They became Gods. Can you believe it?" Luke chuckled with a proud smile.

"I absolutely can." You said with a smile just as big. You pulled away, holding your hand out to Luke. "Care for a tour?"

Luke took your outstretched hand in his, rubbing his thumb along the back of it. "Lead the way."

I sobbed the whole time I was writing this. I had to put a happy ending because I just couldn't stand it.

#imagines #writing #luke x reader #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percabeth #hades #greek mythology #battle of manhattan

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eddieandbird · 1 year

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[NSFW under the cut]

You looked up from the note to see Eddie’s darkened eyes shoot you a wink from his desk beside yours. You smiled down toward the floor, trying not to let Eddie know that your heart jumped out of your chest when he gave you that look. Eddie’s hand crept over to hold yours and your focus switched from the blackboard to the feeling of his rings on the back of your hand. His thumb drummed a rhythm on yours. The infamous Eddie fidgeting was starting, you thought as you read the clock. Five more minutes until the bell rings, no wonder why Eddie was starting to get restless. You rolled your eyes as you slid all your books into your backpack, preparing for Eddie to practically tear your arm off, dragging you to the van.

The ride to the Munson home went on as it usually did. Another drive where Eddie’s mixtapes are turned up so loud your ears hurt and his right hand rested on your thigh like it always belonged there. You struggled to keep your eyes off his fingers pushing down on the skin below your denim skirt. You were annoyed because just moments ago, you ordered Eddie to behave, but here you were, flustered by an innocent display of his affection.

Upon arriving at the trailer, you both greeted Wayne and made small talk before Eddie led you to his bedroom. He offered you a seat on the bed as he grabbed his acoustic guitar and sat on the floor. For hours you two would talk shit about people at school and make plans for the future. You sighed as you peeked out of the blinds of Eddie’s window. The sun just finished setting and you knew it was time for Eddie to drop you home once again. He held your hand as you passed Wayne in the kitchen cooking dinner.

“Hey kiddos, are ya hungry? I was about to fix up some spaghetti,” Wayne asked, standing in front of the stove.

“I’ll have some when I get back, but I gotta get this one home before her dad hunts me down,” Eddie chuckled as he playfully punched your arm.

“Smart boy. You have a good night darling,” Wayne waved at you before you walked out.

As soon as you walked down the front porch stairs you felt Eddie tug on your arm in the opposite direction from his van.

“Eddie, where are we going?” you spat.

“Trust me, come on” he led you to the back of the trailer with his index finger pressed to his lips.

Your vision blurred for a moment as Eddie spun you around and pinned you to the outside of the trailer. You were startled by the feeling of cold metal meeting the backs of your legs and arms. The shock was swiftly interrupted by Eddie’s warm skin. His lips nipped at your neck as his hands wandered around the soft spots of your inner thighs. Resisting him was almost impossible, but somehow you found your words.

“Eddie… Did you forget what I told you?” You groaned. He pulled away a few inches which allowed the street lamps to cast a glow upon his devilish grin.

“You told me no funny business in my room. We’re not in my room are we?” he snickered.

“We’re outside Eddie, what if someone sees?” Your breathing became heavier. A soft whimper escaped your lips as his knee snaked in between your legs, your sex resting right on top of it.

“No one’s going to look back here and I know you’ll be quiet. You wouldn’t want my old man to hear you from inside,” His arm held onto the trailer wall, propping himself up as he slowly worked his leg up and down. He smiled wider as he felt a light wetness cover his knee through the rip in his jeans. “Are you sure you want me to take you home right now?”

“N-no…”

“What was that baby?” He asked. With his leg moving faster, your hips responded by grinding back.

“No, Eddie. I want you. I want you now,” You replied desperately.

“There you go, sweetheart. I’ll make this quick so I can still get you home on time. Turn around for me, beautiful,” He ordered. You obeyed then gasped as Eddie roughly pulled down your underwear and pushed your skirt to sit around your hips. He bent down and sighed as he glanced at you from behind. “So beautiful” he mumbled before dragging his tongue along your folds and crudely spitting into your entrance. You felt dizzy processing everything Eddie was doing to you. As you tried to steady your breathing, he didn’t waste one moment before freeing his hard cock from his jeans and slipping it inside you. With the mess he made with your juices and his saliva, Eddie had no problem getting straight to pounding you from behind. His free arm was now around your waist to hold your hips steady as he filled you completely. You let out quiet yelps with each stroke and it only drove him more wild. His rhythm quickened and you knew he was close. You continued to pay attention to his movement and as soon as he pulled out, you hurriedly spun back around and got on your knees. Eddie let out a low growl and held a firm grip on your hair as you tried to suck his cock at the same pace he was previously fucking you in. His knees buckled and he sharply breathed in before cumming in your mouth. His thumb caressed your cheek as you happily swallowed his load.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Eddie said before reaching down and peppering your face in kisses.

#trying something new lmk what yall think 🙈#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #eddie pov #eddie notes

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 1 year

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18| chapter twenty-four

listen to: Take me to church - Hozier | From Eden - Hozier | Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls (playlist here)

Please go look at the playlist, I revamped it all so you can read the chapters with the new songs and also maybe give your guesses of what's coming next given the songs?

word count: 2.4k

warnings: domestic violence. hurt.

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

Billy Hargrove had always known that love wasn’t for him.

And then you came along.

How you’d managed to rotate the axis of his world? He had no idea. But for the first time in his entire life, the perception of love wasn’t tainted, it wasn’t associated with damage, scream, and people leaving him behind. Instead, love now meant your kisses, your laughter, your smile.

After leaving you home from the game, Billy didn’t go to the party. Instead, he drove home straight away, putting himself to use. He quickly took out a cassette and began to make you a mixtape. It wasn’t anything fancy, but he knew he wanted to give it to you first thing in the morning before finally being able to kiss you in front of everyone at school.

Billy Hargrove wasn’t hollow and broken no more.

At least, until he reached your locker the following day. His tongue edged out to wet his lips as he walked to your locker, cassette in hand and even a small bouquet he managed to get. He tried to compose himself, his heart was thudding a hundred miles per minute as he tried to think what he would say next, how you would react to him.

But as he reached your locker, to see it empty his entire demeanor dropped. He frowned slightly, you could be a little late but you usually aren’t, not even when you were fighting you seemed like you couldn’t distract yourself from classes, you needed to maintain your GPA. Something’s wrong, he can feel it in his bones.

Billy walked out of the school as fast as he possibly could, his eyes scanning the hallways and soon the classes trying to locate you. There isn’t any sign of you. His heart thuds a beat harder with each classroom that you aren’t in he checked as he returned to school, and soon he finds himself in the parking lot.

Your bike is not there and the bell is already ringing on the back. Billy stayed still for a few seconds, his mind going miles per hour as he guessed what reason you had to not come to school. Had you regretted what happened the night before? No, you couldn’t. You were so happy with him, he knew that you were, and he could feel it. Had you become sick all of the sudden? No, he would’ve seen it in your face yesterday, you were anything but sick. Had your stepfather made you go back to Chicago? That was a long shot.

The parking lot was already empty by the time Billy decided that he would go to your place. The place looked the same as it did yesterday but as Billy arrived, he could see a brown jeep getting out of your place. He frowned slightly, he recalled that you’d told him that your step-father would be out of town.

Billy began to feel sick.

He parked a few meters away from your house, something in his gut telling him to do it. Billy’s mind often went to a dark place some days, each time he saw a boy with a bruise, and a girl crying in the counselor's office. He often wondered if they’d found themselves in the same position he was in.

He wished so badly he was wrong.

The door to your place opened after a few knocks. Emily opened the door, her eyes widened at the sight of Billy and closed the door a little as she realized who she had stood in front of the door.

“Hey,” he said. Billy had spent days with you and her in the house, she was a little meek but as Billy took her in right now, he could see in her eyes the way she was somehow standing up for him. “Emily,”

“Billy,” she answered back, closing the door a little bit more.

Billy’s eyes furrowed slightly as he leaned against the frame of the door, trying to seem aloof. “I was wondering if your sister was okay?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Yeah, uhm, yeah,” she said as she looked down for a moment and then back at him. “She’s okay. She got a little sick and she decided to skip school,”

“She’s alright?”

She nodded. “She’ll be okay in no time. She’ll call you later,” Emily answered as she started to close the door.

Billy’s hand flew to the edge of the door, stopping her. Emily frowned immediately, she seemed meek and small but her eyes were daggers as she glared at Billy. “Wait, I can’t see her?”

“No, she’s,” Emily hesitated as she looked back for a moment. Billy frowned. “asleep,”

It only made him more uneasy, the way she was avoiding looking him in the eye, the way she looked back.

“And you’re skipping school so you can take care of her?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

Billy took a deep breath. If you allowed your sister to skip school, Billy knew that you weren’t okay. All the times you’d talked about how much your sister meant to you, how important it was for you to allow her to have the best childhood so she wouldn’t turn like you. He gazed at the little girl in front of him and closed his eyes for a second.

“Emily, I’m going to see your sister today,” Billy said calmly. “I can do it climbing through the window or through this door. You can decide,”

Emily’s eyes widened slightly but she quickly glared at him, straightened up, and was ready to fight Billy if she needed to. She was very protective, you’d always known that, as much as you took care of her, she also took care of you. You’d been listening to the conversation, hoping a call later that day would explain you’d the flu or something so Billy couldn’t come near you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just didn’t want him to see you like that, and yet he’d come to your place, skipping school together just for you.

You sighed.

“Emily,” you called for her from your room. Billy’s and Emily’s heads snapped towards the second floor of the house, Billy felt a little bit easier, hearing you. “You can let him in,”

Emily bit her inner cheek as she glanced at Billy, who was still anxiously looking up the stairs. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

Emily didn’t have to be told twice. She opened the door for Billy who immediately bolted to your room, his heart thudding in his chest harder in a matter of seconds. Something tugging at his chest as he climbed the stairs and then reached your room. He stops suddenly, before he even touches the door handle, taking a deep breath he prepared for the worst-case scenario.

It was even worse when he opened the door.

You sat uncomfortably on your bed, a little light-headed, still feeling hazy from the lack of sleep you’d had. Although Emily had insisted you had to shower around two a.m. and the blood from your body had been clean, the scrapes on your face and torso had become irritated by the shower, causing you to wince each time you tried to accommodate yourself between the pillows. You wanted to say it was new, that the busted lip, the cut over your cheekbone, the swollen eye, the bruises on your neck, the scrapes and bruises that littered your body; all new.

It wasn’t.

You knew that each time it happened, you’d take a day off or two, just to make sure no one saw the bruises, not even teachers so Craig wouldn’t become liable for anything. Emily could skip school only if the injuries inflicted on your body had become so bad that you would have to rest a day. Craig wouldn’t talk to you until the bruises hadn’t faded just enough for him to look at you again unless you made something to make him mad again.

You had the routine down and yet there was a new factor in your life: Billy Hargrove.

The same Billy Hargrove that opened the door softly, the same one that just realized that he blocked out every beating that Neil gave him. That he had managed to survive by forgetting the traumatic beatings he received but that it was all a lie because as his eyes examined your body under that flimsy oversize shirt and your face, he could feel every single second in his bones as he watched you.

He was scared, you could see it in his eyes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to walk near you at first. As if he was too worried he might break you. He took a deep breath before walking slowly towards you, he sat on the edge of the bed slowly, and with shaky hands his fingerpads trailed your skin, stopping methodically at each and every one of the visible bruises that you had on your skin. His eyes watered before he even knew it as he touched you lightly, to finish in your face, trailing your lips and the cut above your cheek.

You waited for him to scream at you about what had happened if you had fallen from the bike. You had the story ready for him and yet you could see it in his eyes, there was something there that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“I’m going to kill him,” Billy whispered as he gazed at you and then stood from the bed without a second thought.

Your hands moved to catch him as fast as you possibly could, even through the pain, you managed to get a hold of his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Billy, stop, stop,” you pleaded.

Billy glances back at you, the rage in his chest growing faster by the second. He knew what it meant to love someone that was treated this way, the frustration, the pain in his chest, the helplessness when his father close the door of their room so he could hit her without Billy interrupting. He was older now, he could defend you, he would kill him if he needed to, he just wanted to stop your suffering. He didn’t know how you hid it so well from him, it dawned on him at that moment where your scars came from, those he had learned by heart when you were naked for him, those he had kissed softly. He knew he surprised you, knowing immediately what had happened. It doesn’t make him feel any better, he should’ve known. He can’t stop his eyes from streaming as he realized that he should’ve protected you since the day he met you.

“I’ll be back,” he affirmed once more, moving as delicately as he could so he could lose your hold. You move in a hurry, without thinking as he reached the door and opened it.

“Billy, I- ow!” you screamed, you don’t feel the sharp pain until you stood up, quickly bending as you hold your torso with both of your hands.

Billy turned around, quickly scooping you in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked as he holds you in his arms, your eyes are still closed as you try to keep the pain at bay while he lays you again. “Are you okay?” he repeated.

You nodded softly, he could tell that you were lying. He quickly climbed to the bed without a second thought, pulling you towards him. He doesn’t really know if it’s going to make it better but he recalled that his mother simply liked him to be there after it happened.

When you opened your eyes, tears threatening to spill, you realize that Billy’s still crying as he looked at you, concern creasing his features still.

“You’re so strong,” Billy whispered. “I, I want to take you to a doctor,” he insisted.

You shake your head as you pull him closer to you. “I just want you to be here,” you said softly, your head tilting up and your eyes meet properly to those ocean-blue eyes. Both of you crying as you gazed back at the other, you press your lips against his gently. “Can you stay with me?”

Billy lets his forehead rest against yours, a shaky breath leaving his body.

“Always,”

***

author's note: love you love you all that keep reading.

***

@happypopcornprincess @hannahnikohl @thescarlettvvitch @nymphadora000 @phishyie @amethystx3 @gloryekaterina @alicetweven @frogtits1 @starloriha @make-me-imagine @dedicated2viktor @zanmorgan @queenofshinigamis @literally-a-ferret @milkiane @mysterygirl-14 @oli-leo-ska @tsukibaby1 @theshinyrock @belledawnidk @the-mysterious-miss-s @nobody-000000-blog @rlvslouis @linkpk88 @daygirl26 @alwaysbeenfamous @kazbrekkersangel @allazay101 @finelineskies @nymphadora000 @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @riffcrusader @patheticreative @bellaramseygfsblog @milenadixon @whiskeypowder @ponyboys-sunsets @

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