#mutuals know the punch line here

[catholickedd]

i will tell people i listen to hozier and they’ll be like “oh!! so do you like work song?”

#mutuals know the punch line here #i know and love everything hozier has ever done #i can recite work song along with most of his discography from memory #hozier #unreal unearth #wasteland baby #literally i know his songs so well that i’ll think “hm what song do we want to listen to today?” #crawl back through my memory #find the file titled “i carrion” #play it in my head on repeat and it’s just like i’m listening to the song #i’m a little bit sick

[beaulesbian]

Every once in a while I think again about the end of Thriller Bark and feel completely insane and ill about Zoro's sacrifice, FOR LUFFY, specifically (you know, the character Kuma's threat was directed at). It wasn't even that long into traveling together, a few months maybe, yet Zoro was ready to give up everything in that moment - in the chapter with Kuma appearing being titled The End of the Dream ! - to protect his crew and Luffy, so he could continue in his journey.

Since Luffy and Zoro met, they always understand how words and promises were imporant to them - with Luffy punching Helmeppo in ch. 3 for lying to Zoro. Zoro learnt how serious Luffy was about his dream, and soon he realized he backed up his words with actions as well - untiying Zoro and giving him his swords back - his biggest treasures. It meant that Zoro could be honest and honor-bound in the same way to Luffy, to gain this mutual respect and trust between them since day 1. To wield his swords to protect both Luffy and later their whole crew, and to step in a way between Luffy and danger.

He was being actually more upset that Sanji got up from the previous Kuma's attack and interrupted their fight - Zoro was trying to keep the whole crew safe by this exchange for Luffy's head - if Sanji was offering his life for Luffy half dead and without much strength left to fight for himself (he started the offering of his own life already believing he woudn't survive, with a "you should find a new cook"), then this very specific sacrifice would be meaningless to the crew (- if this arc was taking place post WCI, then it would turn out very differently, with the strength of Sanji believing in Luffy, but it wasn't his moment during this scene) - it would hurt them more than help them, because as much as Zoro was prepared to die as well, he was prepared to keep fighting until the last breath.

Zoro was thinking he might die - Kuma's words were pretty certain he WOULD die - but he still had the willingness and strength to take on the deal for Luffy, for his captain and his crew. ("if i die here, it just means I wasn't worth much to begin with" this line he says times and times again during the overall story, like in Rogue Town throwing Kitetsu and waiting if it would cut off his arm, up until standing against King in Wano "it's my power that was lacking", and all the other times he was questioning his worth - it's something he tempts the fates he doesn't believe in, to actually harm him, to take his strength away if he doesn't deserve to survive. and it's him saying he knows and accepts his own weaknesses - of not being strong enough (in comparison to Sanji in this example), and always fights through them.)

He threw away his swords, including Wado Ichimonji - literally throwing aside his and Kuina's dream, to compell Kuma into a duel (with the anime playing 'The Very Very Very Strongest' when Zoro bowed down and pleaded Kuma, offering him his head instead of Luffy's) so Kuma wouldn't go after the crew and specifically Luffy later - no matter the outcome if Zoro would surive or not.

And then, he was actually strong enough to survive taking his captain's fatigue, agony and pain! Possibly being the only one who could survive taking Luffy's pain.

Zoro could have back out when Kuma offered him the 'taste' of the pain, with the realization of the scale of the hurt with the very possibility of dying from it. But that wouldn't be Zoro now, would it? He accepted and took all of Luffy's pain so his captain wouldn't have to suffer or die, and when they found him afterwards, he still kept standing, tense with the fatigue but alive! (again, with anime adding the music of 'Luffy's Fierce Attack' to underline the importance between these two).

He was training for this since the beginning - to become stronger to shoulder the pain of his crew if necessary. (And not only that - he was preparing for that so another Kuina incident didn't have to happen). He was the first one to fight one of the Warlords before anything really began: his fight with Mihawk at Baratie really set the tone and his own goals to overcome - a glimpse to see on how much different levels the Warlords actually were in comparison to Zoro, Luffy and the others, and if they were supposed to beat them so Luffy could become the Pirate King, that always meant to be ready and to get even stronger than them.

(small spoiler for egghead, ch. 1102: seeing Kuma (a Warlord at that time) remembering this Thriller Bark event later, during Egghead arc, and thinking that even he might have passed out from the pain, makes it all the more meaningful that it was Zoro who took the pain and withstood it - establishing how high was the strength of his willpower, already before timeskip.)

There could be so many other nuances and details from these last few chapters of this arc, and even what this deal meant for the following arcs! Zoro was still in pain on Sabaody, and because of that the crew wasn't as strong as it could have been (not to say they would have a chance anyway, knowing what all was in the motion).

The next is the tragedy and beauty of LUFFY never finding out about this. Half of the crew knew: Sanji, Brook and Robin knew the details, but would never tell Luffy - and that shows their loyalty to both Luffy and Zoro (and Zoro's decision). Luffy woke up and first thing he did was to jump up and down, excited not to be weighted down by his injuries, and only seeing his swordsman being down with injuries so severe he was out more days afterwards, knowing that something else attacked them (him = Zoro), after he was passed out from the fight against Moria, brought down his mood (even if it's not much noticable, but the change into subtle worry is there in the few next chapters).

"I can't explain it either!" - meaning he was thinking about it too, possibly how weird it was for him to move normally after such long fight. We don't really ever hear/see Luffy thinking about something, except when it's mentioned how he came up with a solution or idea, telling us there's more to Luffy than just being straightforward in his goals and speech. With Luffy being sometimes very emotionally intelligent when he wants to be, he could have figured it out from all these other people in the room asking similar questions and deducing. Even Usopp was putting two and two togehter. We might never find out if Luffy actuallly knows or not. Luffy probably wouldn't ask Zoro directly, especially if Zoro wouldn't tell first and didn't want to talk about it

- because for Zoro, nothing happened! Nothing, that would compromise his and Luffy's first promise. For Zoro to become the Strongest he couldn't back down from the duel with Kuma (just like before with his duel with Mihawk at Baratie. When he's faced with something he swore to overcome, he can't back down or evade. Even back then Luffy understood that as he held back Johnny and Yosaku, but Sanji was perplexed how far Zoro (and Luffy) would go to reach their dreams). When Sanji was asking him in front of Kuma "What about your dream?" Zoro was still thinking about his dream- it was just that the context has changed, it changed into a journey. His dream is the most important thing, but it wouldn't mean much, if, when on his way to accomplish that, he would betray his other words and promises.

#I will never get over how this very important “nothing” happened! #the first draft of this was just a shitpost with one block of text. but it seems im incapable of not adding more and more on top of it #one piece #roronoa zoro #gif:op meta #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #thriller bark #zolu #luzo #kuma #bartholomew kuma #mine #gif:op manga #one piece meta #gif:zolu #one piece analysis #everytime i go into the thiller bark tag and see posts blocked bc of the other ship. i take 10points of damage :// #can we talk about how this was zoro's deal for luffy? can we? i know theres posts about it. i made few too. but theres still not enough.... #for how this moment was big. for how kuma had a memory of it even in egghead. and zoro was the only present one there (after the ursa shock #insane and ill about it yeahh never gonna shut up about zolu thriller bark #luffy one piece #zoro one piece #long post

[taylormarieee]

Not so tough now huh? CRM!Rick

A/N: ok so I watched the first episode and I just felt the urge to write for him immediately. I couldn't resist... so here you sluts go! enjoy and happy reading!<33 This is also based on this moodboard made by the lovely @angelicalhqrt

Summary: You were tough but Rick was tougher and afterall, you were still just a horny girl...

Word count:2.0k

Pairing: crm!rick x fem!fighter!reader

Warnings: smut~fighting~sexual tension~readers tough but Ricks tougher~horny thoughts~lots of yearning and physical touch~PiV sex~unprotected sex~(wrap it b4 you tap it)~slight age gap { readers in her early 30s and Rick is mid 40s}

You and Rick didn't get along. Well, you guys got along but you didn't at the same time if that makes any sense at all.

You both couldn't stand each other yet always found yourselves around each other. It's like you were constantly drawn to him and as he was to you.

It seemed as if you guys had this mutual respect to leave each other alone but in this line of work, you guys were always around one another.

Especially now that Okafor has asked you and Rick to work together to re-shape the CRM. He wants the A's to be able to lead the CRM and change the way they do things. Lead the B's to stop being so scared.

Of course Rick was against it and was very confused. "I don't give a shit about this A's and B's shit Okafor. I'm not livin' here! I'm not happy here, I'm certainly not going to give my life for a place I can't leave. For a place and their bullshit secrets." He protests.

"Rick. You think you have a choice? Now that you joined and are no longer a consignee, I need you. You will do this because you shouldn't even be alive with how many times you've tried to escape. You and bullet over here are special assets to this plan and whether you like it or not, your doing this."

Bullet was the nickname he gave you because you shot at him and grazed his forehead after he tried to rescue you. You needed to get back to your sister, you didn't want to be taken by a strange man and taken to a strange secret city that no one knows about.

"Rick. Just stop fighting it. I learned to stop fighting it long time ago. We've been here for six years. It's time to let go. Whoever your trying to get to just forget it. There alive but in here we can die at the snap of Beales fingers. So please..." You plead looking at him with a stone cold face but a hint of sympathy and concern.

"Whatever." He says gruffly before listening to the rest of what Okafor was saying.

The next day you and Rick and all the other soldiers are training. Obviously yet again, you get partnered with Rick. Your spinning your knife in your hand as you look at him with a slight smirk on your face.

You lunged at him and he blocked it and when you tried again he turned you around and had his arm around your neck and your back to his chest. You feel his warm breath on your cheek.

Your wiggling against him and he grunts in your ear. You try to pry his hand off your neck and flip him over and down to the ground but it was true, he was tougher and much stronger than you.

He pushes you and lets you go. you stumble but turn around standing your ground and facing him with your knife in hand and fists up. You lunge back at him and cut his hand, the one that's still attached of course.

He groans and holds his wrist. "Fuck." He yells out and you smirk at him. "Wouldn't fighting be much easier if you didn't cut off your hand Mr. Grimes?" You say with a slight chuckle.

He quickly turns back and the punches you in your face. You stumble back and wipe the blood that's made its way to your lip.

"Wow. That was a hell of a good punch Grimes." You say smirking and licking your lips. "Thanks bullet." He says smirking at you with his signature look.

You roll your eyes and punch his chest and he tries to hit you again but your duck and serve him a nice right hook. He stumbles back and when you try to punch his face again he grabs your right fist and slowly brings it down twisting it and hurting your wrist.

When you try the other hand to catch him off guard he dodges it and knees you in your stomach before punching your ribs.

You cry out and he lets go of your hand as you grab at your side and stomach. You glare at him from your hunched over position and then you swiftly get down and swipe your leg under his making fall.

You get on top of him and punch him in the face. You see his nose bleeding and his cheek is starting to bruise. You punch once more before a guard yells at you enough.

You get off Rick and look around at everyone looking at you before you look back at Rick on the floor and you scoff before walking away and slamming the door as you walk out.

You take the wrappings aggressively off your hands as you walk to your room. 'At least you had rooms and comfy beds here', you thought.

Where you came from you had to make do with dusty comforters and blankets on the cold, hard floor of an old abandoned building.

At least you had your sister, now you have no clue where she is... Broken out of your thoughts you hear a knock on the door.

You ignore it the first time quietly muttering a go away. When the knocks happen again you groan and get up.

As you open the door your met with Rick pushing past you and rushing into your room.

He's got a patch on his eyebrow to close up his wound with the stitches and his cheekbone is now bruised a darker color then before. Even his hand is all bandaged up.

"What the hell was that huh? Why'd ya go all psyco on me? What did I do to you huh?" He says pacing the room as he thrashes his hands around.

"I did it... because I wanted to." You whisper as you step closer to him with a neutral look on your face. You were unfazed by his act at trying to intimidate you.

"Oh really huh?" He asks stepping real close to you. Suddenly you really notice how dark his eyes are.

Even in this piss poor lighting. He looked looming and scary. Your facade falters immediately as he backs you up against the door.

The tension in the room changing slightly from anger to something more intimate...more primal. It excited you yet scared you.

You really didn't know Rick like that at all. You don't know how crazy he is- I mean besides the fact he cut off his own hand.

Your thoughts began to drift at how he looks. His brown curls framing his face perfectly, his beard full, nice and clean with greys decorating it.

You looked at the outfit he was wearing. A tight black shirt that hugged his body in all the right places with black cargo pants.

He looked...hot. Intimidating.Sexy. Dominant...I mean there were many words to describe Rick. He brought something out of you that you didn't like. He made you excited and wet at the slightest touch.

This interaction bringing back memories to 3 days ago.

{Flashback}

"Rick! Wait up!" You call out to him.

He was walking down the street in his combat outfit.

"Wassup bullet?" He asked with that look in his eyes. 'God that look does things to me,' you thought.

He looked like he wanted to throw you against the wall and eat you.

"I-I wanted to say good luck out there. Okafor can be pushing and hard to deal with." You say with a closed lip smile.

He nods and looks you up and down before speaking, "Thanks for the luck. I assumed i'll be needin' it. Especially by you." He says smirking at you.

That's the moment you knew that he knew, that he knows he makes you nervous. He would make any girl nervous. Eyelashes fluttering at the sound of his rough southern drawl. Sounding all sexy and wise.

That deep voice and pretty smirk on his face. The way his eyes will trace your body and your face as if he's remembering every tiny detail about you like a robot.

You swallow hard and you swear he could hear your heart rapidly beating, 'God girl get it together!' You immediately nodded your head before walking off and leaving him to stand there.

He watched as you walked away all flustered and cute. He chuckled to himself as you looked back and watched him walk away now.

{end of flashback}

You look up at him as he looks down at you with a smirk. His head tilted slightly to the side.

"Whatcha thinking about sweetheart?" He asks with a smirk. You roll your eyes and scoff trying to act tough.

"Nothing Rick. Get out." You demanded as you pushed past him walking towards your bed.

You didn't notice he was silently following you and he ended up behind you with his crotch to your ass and his hands on your hips.

"Why don't you stop this tough act baby and lemme take you right here hmm mama? Would you like that instead? Fuck that attitude right outta ya?" He says in a low seductive voice.

Shivers ran down your back as he said that. His words repeating like a mantra in your head over and over again. You wanted so badly for him to take you right here.

"fuck, yea I want that real bad." You mutter and he smirks as he starts kissing your neck and behind you ear. He slides his pants down and rips his cock free from the bondage of his boxers.

He removes your pants leaving you in your panties. When he slowly removes your panties they reveal your soaked cunt.

"Fuck mama, your soaked." He says with a chuckle. You whimper and grind against him. "Please Rick...I need you i-inside." You whine.

He chuckles and without warning slides in. As much as he wants to tease you, he doesn't have the patience tonight. Maybe next time..

Just thinking about being able to fuck you like this again, his hips roughly thrusting into you as your eyes roll to the back of your head or cross at your nose made his cock twitch.

Just looking at your body exposed and vulnerable to him made his cock jump with excitement to be buried so deep inside you. He kissed and sucked at yor neck leaving hickies people will surely be asking about later.

He was proud to mark you up as his. You cry out and scream out as his cock brushes your cervix just right. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you shaking intensely when your orgasm rolled around.

"fuck Rick! I-I'm gonna c-cum Rick! Oh shit, please lemme cum!" You beg. He looked at you and pouted.

"You wanna cum babygirl? Hmm?" He asks tauntingly. You quickly shake your head yes as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. "Words baby. I need words." He said moving his hand up your chest slowly to lightly grip your throat.

You moan out as you grab his arm and your eyes roll back before you mutter out a little, "Yes Rick! I'm gonna cum, please?" You beg again hoping he has mercy on you.

"I'll allow you to cum but next time I won't be so nice babygirl." He says before thrusting into you with such force it makes your headboard thump against the wall.

You didn't want a noise complaint but the way your oragsm ripped through you, you honestly couldn't care.

"oh fuck!" Rick grunts out before he quickly pulls out and jerks off. You quickly scoot down and open your mouth for him to cum all on your face and tongue. You moan in pleasure as his warm seed spills all on your face.

When you swallow the amount that went into your mouth, you smile at him before licking the rest of by using your finger to apply it in your mouth.

He groans at the sight and he lifts you up placing you neatly and softly on your bed. Your so drunk off his cock that when he goes to try and get a warm cloth for you you grab his arm stopping him.

"Please stay with me. I don't wanna be alone... not tonight." You whisper. He smiles and nods before crawling his way into bed with you rubbing soft circles on your waist as you drift of to sleep.

Taglist: @dustbunniess @dollyfl1rt @rickswh0r3 @sinsandsweetness @justjasminne @itzdarling @versatilehater @aerangi @2svnder @keiva1000 @prettyluhdavis@hutchersonsgurl @grimesuniversexx @liliesdiary @writella

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes #the walking dead #twd rick #rick grimes twd #rick x you #rick x y/n #rick x reader #rick grimes the walking dead

[leclsrc]

can i please request a forbidden relationship with charles? like maybe a verstappen!reader or a wolff!reader? angst to fluff please 😩

name calling – cl16

Charles develops a new nickname, but it's not for you. (wolff!reader)

auds here... i love u anon and i hope its okay that i did not write angst into this!!! i needed a feel good thing to get the trope going. listened to this a lot while writing, one of my favorite cutesy love songs ever!

“There’s peach and apple,” you say over the phone, inspecting the juice box flavors in the well-stocked fridge of the Mercedes motorhome. Apparently, over at Ferrari, the supply is running dry, a report generously provided to you by your boyfriend.

“Is there lemon?” You two have the same favorite. You rifle through the stock and find a lone lemon flavor collecting frost at the back of the pile.

“None.” You say, clearing your throat. “Come on, man. Peach and apple.”

He makes a noise of suspicion, but gives in. “Peach then.”

“Okay.” You tuck your phone in-between your ear and shoulder and collect multiple to find the coldest one, an accompaniment to the heat this weekend; your call is cut short when your dad walks in, eyebrows set in a straight line of contemplation.

They raise when he spots you harboring a bunch of peach juice boxes. “Gotta go, bye,” you add in a rushed whisper, and he says a quick see you thanks before hanging up.

“Dad,” you say casually. You raise one of the six boxes in your hand. “Juice?”

“Is there lemon left?”

“No luck. Peach and apple,” you say sweetly.

“I’ll have apple. Listen, I’m going to a principal’s meeting using your scooter.”

You toss him a box. “Okay. Stay safe,” you respond, letting him pull you into a one-armed hug. “There’s too many people in the centre so I’ve been scootering behind motorhomes to get to places faster. Might help.”

“Okay, spatzi,” he says, punching a straw into the box and departing. This signals a greenlight for you to call Charles again—despite your best mutual efforts, you’ve both been almost caught calling or being near each other by your dad. And, in the words of your lovely boyfriend, he’s not yet ready to die. But the hiding is worth it; after all, it’s hiding from the public, which you both wanted from the get go, and your dad. Your mum and several friends know, which makes the lying ease up a little bit.

He picks up in the middle of the first ring. “Hey. Got my juice?” 

“Yeah. Back door.” A routine crafted over years of knowing each other—first as friends, then as lovers—serves you well, a rushed meeting at the back door of a garage or motorhome to discuss date night plans or to hand over a gift or plate of food. In this case, it’s a juice box, half-tossed in your rush to not be spotted by one of your dad’s friends.

And, as always, he blows you a kiss as you close the door.

—

Four sips into his peach juice, Charles sneaks past the Mercedes motorhome and moves back to Ferrari, but not without spotting a mess of long limbs on the ground beside a forgotten scooter. Upon closer inspection, his suspicion of it being a deranged superfan is rejected—it’s Toto Wolff.

“I must have tripped on a wire,” Toto grunts, eyes scanning the ground. He meets Charles’ eyes. 

“Let me help you,” Charles says, immediately offering a hand and pulling. The guy is jacked, so he exerts a bit more effort than he’s willing to admit; the job gets done nonetheless, so potato-potahto, really. 

“Thank you,” wheezes Toto, sitting up, all six feet five of him, “son.”

Charles is slack mouthed. Oh my God. Son???? “You are welcome, so welcome,” he responds kindly, despite the awkward tension. “Um, Papa.”

Toto pauses his ascent and stares pointedly before shaking his head. “I… must go.”

“Well, drive safe. Watch the roads. And all.” Charles says, laughing sheepishly. “Toto. Watch the roads, and all, Toto.” He emphasizes, like that takes back the fact that he called the big boss Papa just ten seconds ago. He chews at the straw of the peach juice, gnawing nervously.

“I will. Thanks again.” He falls quiet, staring. Then a knobby finger points to the juice box, waving back and forth in-between the juice box in the garbage bin a few metres away. “They’re… your juice box… is that from the Mercedes… motorhome?”

“No,” lies Charles with unrivaled stiffness.

“It is a German brand we special order for my daughter.”

“No—see, I am very into German juice.” He ignores the way it sounds like a euphemism. “What’s that? My phone is now ringing. Okay. D’accord. Au revoir.” He walks away as he makes up additional excuses, not missing Toto’s laser stare that seems to permeate through walls and asphalt, finding reprieve only when he’s back in his room.

He chucks the juice box into the nearest bin and prays to all the gods.

—

Charles ends up getting P1. He’s surrounded by whoops and cheers and receives a very solemn “good effort” nod from Toto across the paddock, which he feels cements his apology and effectively keeps your relationship hidden. He’s handled it well. For once, he’s the mature crisis handler in the relationship, and you don’t need to know about any of this, you really don’t.

You congratulate him at the back door like always, when he’s on the way to the parking lot.

A kiss to his cheek. Then: “I have something to ask.”

“What’s that, darling?”

“Did you, um. Call my dad Papa?”

He presses a palm to his mouth in a very Charles-esque overdramatic way. “Oh my God, he told you?!”

“Oh my God, it’s true?!” You detect the volume in your voice and usher yourself out, quietly shutting the door before facing him again. You raise your eyebrows.

Your boyfriend, your adorably aloof boyfriend, just sputters. “Well—he called me son!”

“Yeah, because he’s old! Old people do that.” You gesticulate wildly “I can’t believe you called him Papa.”

“I can’t believe he told you.”

“I can’t believe you both thought I did not know,” comes a voice from the door that is, unfortunately, not Lewis’ or George’s or yours or Charles’.

The door swings open and there your dad stands, eyebrows raised quizzically, windbreaker-clad arms crossed over his chest. “Charles, I know you don’t ‘like German juice.’ Spatzi, I know you don’t ‘enjoy exploring Monaco hotels by yourself.’” Stoically, he raises air quotes.

“… Sorry?” You offer, smile sweet.

“It’s okay.” He allows a small, warm smile directed to you. “I’ve known a while now.”

“Sorry, Toto,” Charles says profusely, visibly anxious.

The smile chills. Your dad just nods, waving him off. “Cool down on the Papa, though, Leclerc.” 

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hey saffy lemur... could you maybe do a scenario for the 141 and König and reader? Where they each have their first kiss with them and what the kiss is like? I love your writing you're so good at fluff,! If you don't want to it's okay, thanks!

Thank you so much! I hope this is what you were looking for❤️😊

141 + König x Reader's First Kiss

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual references

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

Your first kiss with Simon was sweet. After months of mutual pining, he'd finally mustered the courage to ask you out on a date.

He took you to a small cafe, where it wouldn't be too busy. He was a perfect gentleman the whole date, and you couldn't be any more enamored with him because of it.

He'd shown you a whole new side of him tonight, one that he hadn't shown anyone in years. He'd had his fair share of flings and one night stands, but you were different. Something about you made him want something more. Something real.

He'd walked you up to your doorstep later that night, after your date had ended. "I had a nice night Y/N, thank you." He said as he leaned against your door.

"Me too, Simon. I really hope we can do this again. It was nice getting to know the man behind the mask. I quite like him." You smiled warmly up at him.

Simon felt butterflies in his stomach from the way you were looking at him. Nobody's looked at him like that in years.

He looked deeply in your eyes before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. The kiss was nothing short of perfect. His lips had felt so soft against yours.

His finger rested under your chin, pulling your head up toward him more so he could deepen the kiss. Pulling away slowly after a few moments, he smiled down at you before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" He asked, hopeful. The kiss solidified what he knew he felt inside. He was falling for you, and falling hard.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

Your first kiss with Johnny was unexpected. The two of you had been friends for years. You had a friendship filled with relentless teasing, late nights gossiping, and lingering touches.

You were out with him late at night at a bar close to base. The two of you wanted to let loose, and ended up having one too many.

At one point during the night, you found yourself staring at Johnny. He was licking his chapped lips all night, and it was driving you crazy. You'd always harbored feelings for the Scot, and it certainly didn't help you were undeniably attracted to him either.

"Need some chapstick?" You teased, catching Johnny's attention. He turned his gaze away from the game on TV and looked at you with a smirk.

"Think I may need more than just chapstick, darlin." He sent you a sly wink.

You stifled a giggle at his reply. "Was that supposed to be a pickup line? That was awful, Johnny."

Johnny would be sure to blame it on the drinks later, but your little giggle had done something to him in that moment. Ignoring any doubts he had in his mind, he leaned forward and crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was heated, and messy. Both of you being under the influence of alcohol certainly didn't make for a very romantic kiss. There was teeth clashing, tongue and a mix of saliva all at once. But you weren't complaining, and neither was he.

"Fuck me." He pulled away, with a darkness to his eyes that wasn't there before. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

You nodded your head, and let Johnny lead the way to a night neither of you would forget.

Price-

Your first kiss with Price was rough. The amount of sexual/romantic tension between the two of you was palpable, and had been since you'd joined his task force.

You'd needed help with some defense techniques and had asked if he'd be willing to spar with you to help out.

You'd been sparring with him for the last 20 minutes and were working up quite the sweat. Price wasn't one to go easy on you, and you'd narrowly missed being punched a handful of times.

You'd lost your footing as you tried to deflect his latest punch unsuccessfully, causing you and John to go tumbling to the ground. He held his arms out on either side of you to prevent himself from falling on top of you.

Trying to catch your breath from the physical exertion, you looked up to find Price already looking down at you. His gaze had flitted down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

You swallowed thickly, unsure of what his next move was going to be. He gave a small smirk before leaning down to connect your lips with his.

The kiss was bruising. Like in your spar session, Price didn't hold himself back when kissing you either. His lips were rough, and the kiss was anything but soft.

"I think I won that spar, yeah?" He asked, pulling away. "Now it's time to claim my prize."

Gaz-

Your first kiss with Gaz was playful. You and him were playing Mario Kart at your flat, and things were getting tense. Each of you were self proclaimed masters at the game and decided to do a ten round game to see who was the ultimate winner.

The two of you were sitting side by side, deeply concentrating on the game. This was the last round of the match, and you and Gaz were neck and neck, the winner being decided by this match.

It was the last lap, and Gaz was right on your tail. At the last minute, he had gotten a red shell to use on you, which allowed him to push past you and win the race.

"AHH! DID YOU SEE THAT? I WON, I WON!" Gaz cried out, flinging his arms in the air, sending the controller flying.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and were about to say something before he cut you off with a fierce kiss.

You and Gaz had been friends for a while. Both of you were close and found yourselves in each other's company. You'd always had a small attraction to the man, but never vocalize your feelings.

Your mind was hazy as you tried to grasp what was happening. You'd sat frozen as he kissed you, unable to move.

He pulled away with wide eyes. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I should've asked, was so."

You cut him off by placing your lips against his. He immediately reciprocated, pushing you backward into the couch.

"Shit, can I get kissed like this every time I win?"

König-

König's and your first kiss was timid. You'd been on a few dates together, never ending with the kiss you'd wanted so badly from him.

You knew of his anxieties, though. You knew better than to push him into something he wasn't comfortable with. So you waited patiently for him to make his move.

The two of you were on a picnic date, at a little lake by your house. The date was quiet, but sweet. König had told you some childhood stories, in exchange for a few of your own.

As the two of you finished your sandwiches, a comfortable silence fell over you. Both of you often looking at each other, exchanging warm glances.

At one point, he turned to you with a small smile and cleared his throat. "Maus….may I… may I kiss you?"

You nodded your head with a smile and waited for König to make a move. He leaned in slowly and placed his lips on yours softly, almost as if he'd break you if he'd put any more pressure.

He pulled away only a second later, a light pink dusting his cheeks. "I.. I hope that was alright for you."

"That was perfect Kö.. could I…maybe get another?" You asked, your own cheeks now turning pink.

König felt his heart flutter, and gladly leaned back in to capture your lips in his once more. This time, kissing you with just a bit more fervor than before.

König could get used to this, this domestic bliss. You were starting to show him slowly but surely that the man beneath the mask was worth loving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for reading!!!❤️😊

#cod imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #konig x reader #konig imagine #konig mw2 #mw2 x reader #captain price #price imagine #price mw2 #soap imagine #soap x reader #soap mctavish #soap mw2 #gaz imagine #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick

[seethesin]

multitasking

pairing: Shane McCutcheon x F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, facesitting, cunnilingus (mdni, 18+)

a/n: based on this prompt. enjoy :)

The dinner party invitation from Bette & Tina came as a surprise to you. You accepted, of course, wanting nothing more than to spend quality time with Shane's loved ones. However, a part of you couldn't understand why you were added to the guest list. What you and Shane had was—for lack of better words—a situationship. Neither of you expected more out of the other than incredible sex, mutual respect for boundaries, and someone who was always down to have fun. Something as intimate as attending a dinner party together screamed commitment. Regardless, the two of you agreed to go together. Shane insisted on picking you up by 7:00 to be there for 7:30.

"It makes it easier," you remember Shane justifying over the phone. She babbled on about something regarding limited parking space; in hindsight, it was a lame excuse just to spend more time with you.

As promised, Shane was punctual. She was at your home by 6:30 sharp for a pickup. However, you were nowhere near ready. Thankfully, you showered, dried, and styled your hair already. But, you still needed to pick your outfit and put makeup on. You were going to need at least a half hour.

Shane blaring her car horn while parked in your driveway brought you back into reality.

"Oh my god," you mutter to yourself, searching your bedroom for your phone. Finding it underneath the dresses splayed over your bed, you smash the call button by Shane's contact and wait. Her car horn finally stops and your favorite husky voice answers on the other line.

"I'm here, [Y/N]."

"Yes, I know Shane. As does the rest of my neighborhood."

She chuckles, tickled by your tone.

"Are you ready?"

"Not yet, I still have to do a few things."

"Do you know what you're wearing yet?"

Silence. Shane's laughing now.

"Should I come in and wait?"

You sigh, defeated. "I'll unlock the door."

You end the call and hustle over to the front door. You unlock it and hold it open for Shane as she makes her way towards you, a smug smile glued onto her face.

She looks good. She always does. But there was something about the tailored suit jacket, dress shirt, and trouser combination she donned that made her look even sexier than usual. You shake that thought out of your head; you need to get ready.

"Hey, [Y/N]," she greets you, stepping into your home as you shut and lock the door behind her. You turn to face her and she's already leering at you. Her smirk does not falter.

"You sure you don't want to wear that tonight?"

Glancing down at yourself, you blink back your shock. Since you couldn't decide on what to wear, you kept your bra and underwear on but threw a robe over yourself for modesty's sake. If you weren't crunched for time, you would have taken it to throw a smart comment back at Shane. Instead, you playfully punch her in the shoulder, unable to stop yourself from grinning back. She holds up her hands in mock surrender.

"Do you want anything?" you ask, getting ready to step into the kitchen. Shane shakes her head, settling down on your couch instead.

"I'm going to finish getting ready. If you need me, I'm in my room, okay?" Shane salutes you like a soldier, snatching up the TV remote before turning it on. Half seriously, you roll your eyes before slipping down the hallway.

Your brain kicks into overdrive as you check the time. 6:34. Okay, you have some time.

Exhaling slowly, you look at the three dresses spread on your bed. Childishly, you close your eyes and whisper out the eenie meenie miney mo spiel to yourself. Once you finish, you open your eyes and take in your randomized decision. It was a batwing, beige a-line dress with a white floral pattern. Good enough.

Shedding your robe off, you slip into the dress before smoothing it out. You check yourself in the mirror and, once content with how you look, put the other dresses away. You then pull the chair out to your vanity and take a seat.

You’ve just finished applying a layer of foundation when you see Shane enter your bedroom from the corner of the mirror.

“Hey,” you offer, looking back at yourself and you start blending blush into your cheeks. She nods in reply.

“I got bored.” she finally admits, settling down on your bed. It sounds like Shane wants to add something to her statement, but she ends it curtly. She's fiddling with her rings, looking around your bedroom as if it's the first time she's been inside. If you didn't know any better, you would think something was making her nervous.

“So you’ve come to bother me?” you question teasingly, your tone light as you move onto bronzer.

Shane flashes a boyish grin at you, watching as you paint across your hairline with great interest. “Absolutely.”

“Lucky me.” It’s hard not to smile back at her, so you don’t bother to hide it.

Shane lays back on your bed, her legs draped over the foot of it while her head hits just under your pillows. She's staring at the ceiling, eyes wandering until she notes the windowsill above your headboard. Her brows furrow and then, a wicked thought crosses her mind.

"[Y/N]?" Shane's sitting up now, watching as you finish your highlight.

"Yes?"

"How much more do you need to do?"

"Just my eyes and lips, why?"

Shane beams.

"How good are you at multitasking?"

You don't follow. Your interest, however, is piqued.

"Pretty good. Why?"

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips as she stares at you. You know that look all too well.

"Set your stuff up on the windowsill and c'mere."

You watch her incredulously through the mirror before turning around to look at her directly. She's serious; she's waiting for you expectantly as she drums her fingernails on her thighs. You glance at the clock. 6:45. Fine, you'll humor her.

Gathering the rest of your makeup and a desk mirror, you walk towards your bed before putting everything down on the windowsill. You take a moment to set up the mirror before you look down at Shane.

"I'm here, Shane," you mimic her from earlier, watching as she lays back down on your bed. Raising her hands toward you, she wiggles her fingers in a come hither motion.

"Take a seat."

"Shane—"

"Multitask," she chides, one hand dropping to the hem of your dress. "Unless you really don't want to."

Truthfully, the idea of grinding your cunt into Shane's mouth sounded heavenly. Receiving an orgasm or two out of it sounded even better. So you relent, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear before sliding them off. Scooping up the skirt of your dress, you climb onto your bed and kneel over Shane's face.

"You ready?" you ask, watching Shane nod eagerly before seating yourself on her face. She grips your thighs, readjusting you so you're positioned comfortably on top of her. You reach for a makeup brush and shudder once you feel Shane lick a stripe from your slit to clit. Fifteen minutes you remind yourself as you start with your eyeshadow.

Shane, meanwhile, does not feel the same time crunch. She's consuming your cunt with open-mouthed kisses, pivoting to kitten licks to get a feel of what you like in this position. Her blunt fingernails dig into your thighs, grounding you as her mouth continues to work. A devious suck to your clit makes you whine and her smirk sears into your skin.

Meanwhile, you've managed to complete your eyeshadow for one eye and have moved on to the other. Shane is insatiable though; she rips another moan from your throat as her tongue rubs tight circles around your clit.

"Fuck," you whisper, trying to compose yourself before starting the other eye. Shane hums in pleasure underneath you; the vibration against your pussy makes you squirm. The coil in your stomach is beginning to tighten and desperately, you try to control your panting. You instead focus on breathing through your nose as you blend the powder into your lid. Shane keeps you on edge, her tongue flickering against your clit before sliding down to your slit.

It's when she slips her tongue inside your pussy that your resolve falters. You finished with the eyeshadow, but you didn't trust yourself enough to put eyeliner on. Or mascara for that matter. One hand sinks into Shane's hair, grabbing tightly as you lurch forward. You choke on a groan as your hips teeter, enjoying the feeling of her tongue pistoning inside you.

It's garbled, but Shane is snickering beneath you.

"Shane." It comes out as a pitiful rasp while you shake like a leaf. Maybe no eyeliner tonight. She pinches your thighs playfully to retort, making you swivel around her tongue. You opt instead to put your lipstick on. You remove your hand from Shane's hair to grab the tube in front of you. Popping the cap off, you twist before applying a quick swipe on your bottom lip. Another whimper peels from your throat as you feel the flat of Shane's tongue stroke against your clit. The tip pumps into you, maintaining the same rhythm as before.

The sensations are starting to overstimulate you. Quiveringly, you swipe your upper lip before mashing them together, rubbing the lipstick in. You snap the cap back and nearly toss it onto the windowsill, in favor of grabbing the edge of it for purchase. Your thighs keep Shane's head vised in place as your orgasm washes over you. You're gasping and panting as you cum, eyes screwed shut as your body goes rigid. Shane's pace slows, opting instead to let you rut into her tongue to ride out the remainder of your orgasm. A few moments later, you slump forward.

You feel her tap on your thigh gently and taking the hint, you scramble off her face. Shane takes a few seconds to rest before sitting back up. Her chin is shining with your slick and she rubs it off with the palm of her hand, throwing a half-lidded gaze in your direction.

"You look good," she slurs huskily, taking the time to drag her eyes down your face. You're not sure if you're flushing from her compliment or if it's just the afterglow.

"Thank you." You glance at the clock and your eyes go wide. "Fuck!"

7:05.

You spring back up to the windowsill, swiftly grabbing the tube of mascara before twisting it open and brushing it through your lashes.

"We're gonna be late!" you hiss, scanning through the rest of the products spread out in front of you. There was no time for anything else and you instead take a moment to look over yourself in the mirror. Hopping off the bed, you swipe up your underwear and pull them up, smoothing down the skirt of your dress.

Suddenly, Shane's hands are on your hips and she yanks you into her chest. You stop moving and peer up at Shane through your lashes. Your heart flips in your chest as she flashes you a rare, genuine smile.

"You know, there's a thing called being fashionably late, [Y/N]." She winks and you can't help but mirror her grin. You press a kiss on her cheek, almost upset that the lipstick didn't transfer.

"Doesn't mean we have to keep everyone waiting." You got her there. Nodding, she released your hips before motioning to your bedroom door.

"After you, sugar."

#shane mccutcheon #shane mccutcheon imagine #the l word #shane mccutcheon x reader #the l word imagine #tlw fandom #tlw #wlw #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

[softshuji]

𝟎𝟖:𝟐𝟓𝐀𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈

Title: It's not like you're in love with him….right? 

Summary: You're not in love with him, despite how much you might want to be, despite how much he might love you. Reblogs Appreciated!

cw: fem! reader, some suggestive content but nothing too much, pet names (babe, doll, pretty girl), mutual pining, canon typical violence, reader and shuji are sickeningly in love. A little smth for Valentine's cos i'm a sap. Back to masterlist here.

You’re not in love with Hanma Shuji. You’re never under any impression that he can be anything other than what he already is, that his name alone speaks volumes anyway.

It feels sometimes, as if he has fooled everyone but you, as if you are the only person his charm has not lulled into stupefied affection. You listen sometimes, padding around the kitchen as he takes the call to Kisaki in the other room, his feet thrown up over the armrest of the sofa, a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips and a t- shirt that hangs lazily over his body, the sinew of his muscle peeking through the collar. 

You like him best like that. Unguarded, unaware, stripping back the blithe mask that he presses to his face every morning, as confidently as he dons the suit, the clean and sharp lines of his shirt tucked into even sharper dress pants.

You wonder if he practises it, the cloak he wears as armour, the easy smile, the grin that’s always quick to come and always with a promise of some mischief or another.

You like that side of him too, unpredictable and chaotic, with the zing of energy that bounces from his skin and you know, in those moments of his excitement, you would go anywhere with him, that he could buoy you along and carry you, drag you even, to hell and back.

You wonder if he knows that a simple grin has the blood in your veins pulsing in time with your pattering heart, if he knows that you reach for him at night when it’s colder than normal and his skin is warm and you can only think of the feeling of him as you slip into sleep.

But you’re not in love with him. That much is certain.

You like him when he laughs, big and beautiful and swallowing the light in the room and sometimes he’ll throw his head back and the curls will fall across his forehead, just shy of his nose and your hand will twitch with the need to brush them back, to linger on his cheek for the barest of moments, just to feel the heat, the delicious ache of being close to him. And maybe the copper flash of his eyes will fall on your wrist and flit to your lips and a hand will come out to grab you by the throat or waist, your heart punching a raucous tune against your ribs. Yes perhaps you have thought about kissing him, more than once. Perhaps you have thought about needily biting down on his lips, sliding your tongue along his and fisting the collars of his pressed shirt as he hums into your mouth. 

So what? It’s nothing new, he’s an attractive man and you’re under no illusions about the queues and lines of women who not only think the same but would trade anything for the opportunity of a single night of his time. 

You try to resist the urge to reach for him in the darker moments, a call away that you’re not sure he’d answer anyway, and fail spectacularly when you thumb through your contacts and your finger catches on a candid shot of him messing with a camera, the usual feline grin softened into something more tender. 

‘Something wrong Doll? You don’t usually call at this time,’ he says and you hear the revving of an engine behind, the squeal of tires and purr of his motorbike.

‘I’m sorry, I just missed you is all. I can’t sleep.’ It’s not entirely a lie, or a truth either but you think it’ll suffice and you hope he doesn’t detect the needy whine in your throat that always accompanies the furious heat across your neck when you’re this clingy with him. It’s out of your hands for the most part, inevitable. You wonder if he knows that too.

‘Mmh.’ And the drone of the bike peters off into something more smooth, the whoosh and whistle of wind spilling down the receiver. ‘You wanna come for a drive? You can give her a spin with me.’ 

You like that about him too, the ease with which he carries you with him, lifts and takes you, clutching onto his torso and burying your cheek against the shifting muscle of his back as he drives, often silently, a hand reaching for your wrist to draw a faint circle on. He never mentions it, and you like that too, that it is so effortless to exist with him, in this bubble he has made that has shunned anyone who isn’t him. 

But you’re not in love with him, you know that. 

You like him when he teases, and the hot flush of embarrassment makes a steady crawl towards your ears, creeping along the hairs on your arm. He likes that he can draw such visceral reactions from you like that, that the sliding of his hand along your thigh or the domineering way he grabs your chin to look at you when he knows you’re lying is enough to make you crumble under the weight of his gaze. And perhaps he’ll swipe his thumb along your lip and watch you frown and attempt to break his stare, sighing defeatedly when he tuts under his breath and tightens his grip. He likes that you’ve so willingly placed your life in his calloused hands, the scars brushing against your cheek. He likes you most like that, laughing, the heat of your nerves warm under his palms, the jump of your heart in your veins and still, choosing him above all things. 

Because he knows. 

He knows he’s rough and his words cut hard enough to make you bleed, that he’s unpredictable at the best and worst of times, that (in his own words) he is unstable, and not the rock you need. He’s unapologetic about it and you like that and maybe he likes that you like it, that you accept him enough not to question the chaotic part of himself that has only grown as he sprinted into adulthood over the years.

If he was more honest with himself or others, maybe he could admit he’s in love with you. 

But Hanma Shuji is not an honest man, and you’re under no illusions about what that could mean for you, and the inevitable heartbreak you know is coming should you take that leap of faith. It explains more than half of your caution, and you try not to let it get to you when he stumbles into your apartment in the middle of the night with a slash across his toned stomach and glassy eyes, his cuffs stained with blood that you can’t be sure isn’t his.

‘You can’t keep doing this Shuji babe,’ you say, a cotton gauze held to the red welling on his lip and your own trembling with the effort to hold yourself in check.

He frowns, the slip and slide of his perfect throat disappearing beneath the open collar of his stained shirt before grinning wildly, catching your wrist in one bloodied hand.

‘Mhm, you don’t like being my pretty little nurse anymore?’ But it stings in a way that has nothing to do with the antiseptic drying on his skin and he’s trying to sate the pain by rubbing circles onto your palm but you’re hurt, and he sees the wobble of your lip pulled by your teeth.

‘That’s not it.’

‘Then what is?’ He knows of course, he just wants to hear it, that you can’t run towards him anymore, that you don’t love him enough to hang onto him like dead weight and maybe he’ll be able to down some drinks and get over it but he needs to hear it.

‘I’m scared Shuji,’ you say and it hurts to speak under the weight of his stare. ‘I’m scared that one day you’re not coming back to me.’ 

You remember once, a long time ago in the early days of your relationship, the first time you had seen the nicks and bruises and cuts that graced his body, lashes of ridged scars on his back and chest that you had tentatively touched and you had wondered what he had seen and done to hurt like that. As you had run a finger over the slightly raised skin, he had caught your wrist and bent to kiss your palm, his eyes closed, the curve of his lashes spreading over the sharp cut of his cheekbones.

‘Best not to get attached’, he says, as if he has not spent the better part of the last few weeks waiting for an excuse to call you, to bombard your phone with messages, to turn up bloody and ragged at your door with a grin that he knows you’ll melt for. He knows it could end any day now. Maybe he won’t make it to your door, maybe you can’t fix him this time, maybe he isn’t half as heroic as you believe him to be.

‘C’mere pretty girl,’ he says this time, because he can’t make an empty promise to you again and it hurts enough as it is to watch the tears pool in your eyes knowing if he’d let you go, you’d have one less reason to cry.

So instead he pulls you onto his lap and holds you and for a second, a moment in time, he is not a gangster with blood on his hands. He is just a man who loves a girl. And maybe he likes you a little too much and he’s just as worn as the scuffs on his cigarette tin and you’re just pure and good and sweet and pretend not to see the stains on the cuffs of his shirt but for one night he wouldn’t mind sating his insatiable appetite with you, wouldn’t mind forgetting who he is and what he’s done just to taste the promise of you with his hands.

He wonders if this is what love is, if this tightness that borders on pain in his chest is what the shitty poets talked about. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there’s a certain level of pride that comes from being the one he looks for in the moments between, when he’s delirious with pain and murmuring profanities into your skin and you cup his face so gently, and brush the curls matted with blood from his forehead and press your lips to his nose and he’s closer to saying the three words than he’s ever been.

You like him in those softer moments. The blanket is too small for his frame and his legs dangle off the edge of the sofa, his lips are parted, an arm thrown over his eyes as the heating whirs in the background. A gauze is taped haphazardly to the gash in his stomach, the thin sheen of sweat glistening under the lamplight and a bottle of painkillers discarded somewhere, rolling on the floor. It’s how he always is. Bustling into your house, into your life, the chaotic frenzy dragging you along with him. Perhaps if you loved him any less you might be able to talk about it more.

So yes. Yes he’s beautiful, strikingly so. Yes he is funny beyond a doubt and a single grin from him is enough to have the nerves coiling tight in your stomach relaxing on instinct, and yes you think there will never come a day when you do not look for him at night, but you know that’s all it is.

After all, it's not like you're in love with him…right? 

a/n: I have nothing to say except I would eat the sun for him. Happy Valentines to the light of my eyes, the heart of my heart.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @rinnndoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment @deskaisers @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @anxious-chick

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#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyorev x reader #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

[appocalipse]

tell me again — steve harrington

this is for @sparklingsin 's spookinktober! ♥ my prompt is: "Would you stop stuffing your face with candy for one moment and listen?" and somehow i turned this into angst + friends to lovers hehe ♥

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You're halfway between the door and the counter when you hear your name.

Instinctively, you stop. It's Steve. You peek around the shelves and see that he's talking on the phone, absently leaning over the counter, phone cord wrapped around his index finger.

“What about her?” he is saying. He frowns and breathes out a nervous laugh. You'd really like to know what the person on the other end of the line is saying. Steve shakes his head emphatically, though they obviously can't see it. “Oh no, of course not. She's nothing to me.“

A stake through the heart, it seems. A punch to the gut. You'd come to the conclusion that you and Steve were friends at the very least and two people harboring a mutual interest in trying something else at best, but it seems that in reality, you're worse than a stranger to him— nothing. She's nothing to me.

These words keep ringing in your ears. You'd like nothing more than to turn your heel and leave, but the tape in your hand needs to be returned, so you try the second best thing: finding Robin. However, this too fails. She must be in the storage room in the back…or maybe it’s her day off. You really don’t know.

You are many things. Coward is not one of them. It's especially easy to be brave when you're so angry. 

Steve is still in the middle of a conversation — no doubt with one of those gorgeous girls he hangs out with — when you emerge from behind the shelves and slam the tape on the counter. 

Shock, absolute shock blooms over his face — and then all the color drains from it, you realize, in a matter of seconds. 

“I just came to return this,” you say, chin lifted with a confidence you usually wouldn't be able to show. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Steve.”

He's lowering the phone, opening his mouth to say something, but you don't wait to hear. You ignore the guilt and regret on his face — perhaps more for getting caught than for saying those things in the first place, you think bitterly — and turn toward the door without waiting for an answer.

Experiencing something terribly similar to panic, Steve jumps over the counter rather than walking around it. “Y/N, I don't-”

He lands a little awkwardly on the other side but you're fast, faster in your rage, he notices, and the front door slams hard behind you long before he is anywhere near reaching it.

Robin appears from the back. Her face is a mixture of surprise and disapproval.

“Uh,” she mumbles, giving Steve a pointed look, a crooked smile. “That went well.”

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Someone is calling your name. 

Someone tall, unfairly handsome, and who has quite possibly the best hair in the world — someone you've been avoiding.

Steve Harrington. You don't have to turn around to know the voice belongs to him.

Ever loyal, Dustin starts to turn around to wait for him, but you turn him back around by the shoulders and keep walking. Steve is closer now.

“Y/N, c'mon,” he calls again, footsteps resounding against the concrete behind you.

You pick up your own pace — damn, you would have happily run down the road if you thought you could get away with it — but it's no use because Dustin suddenly decides to walk at the same speed as his neighbor, Mrs. Jones, does— and she is eighty years old. 

Dustin turns his head and you see his face, his expression; it's like staring at a big neon sign that says ‘guilty’. 

Understanding downs on you like a bucket of ice water. 

“Traitor!” you accuse, and are still staring at Dustin — who has the decency to look slightly regretful — when a warm hand closes around your elbow, making you jump.

“Can we talk? Please?” Steve asks. Begs.

You try to pull your arm back. It's useless. “I can't believe you told him I was here,” you say to Dustin, still refusing to engage in any kind of interaction with Steve.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Dustin smiles the kind of sweet smile he reserves to save himself from trouble and shrugs, looking from you to Steve with barely hidden delight. “I hate it when my babysitters fight.”

You're not really his babysitter anymore, although his mom still calls you to stay with him when she’s out for the night or something. You’re more friends than anything else.

You scoff, anyway. “He's not your babysitter,” you say pointedly, somewhat jealous. It's kind of ridiculous if you stop to think about it — so you don’t.

“And yet I'm the one who's always driving him around.”

On instinct, you turn your head to look at Steve, angling your chin up with fire in your eyes. 

“And which one of us gets paid?” you say.

You're too close, too defiant, and Steve feels dizzy, his traitorous eyes falling straight to your pouty lips, momentarily forgetting he's standing in front of a bunch of kids. Well, not exactly kids anymore, but…

“Oh, sweet lord,” Dustin rolls his eyes dramatically. His friends are calling out to him, already several steps ahead, and he makes a gesture with his hand asking them to wait. He then turns to you and says, “We'll wait for you in front of Mrs. Jones' house when we're done, okay? Byeee!”

“What- no! Dustin-”

Running, he looks over his shoulder and chuckles. “You better kiss and make up before we head home!”

He doesn't wait for an answer, knowing what it will be, and rushes down the sidewalk after Will, Lucas, and Mike, all wearing very detailed costumes. You make to follow them, all responsibility and focus, but Steve's hand slides from your elbow to your wrist and he holds on tight for a moment, your arm stretched between you and him.

“I can't let them go alone!” you say, putting some drama into your words to see if he wavers and lets you go.

He doesn’t.

“They do it on their own every year.”

Just because it's the truth doesn't mean you're going to let him think he's right. You haven't forgotten what Steve said before. You absolutely have not.

“You're just trying to avoid me,” he accuses.

“Well, I said I would take them trick or treating this year!” you argue. And it's a pretty weak argument, because they're all teenagers now and nothing violent has happened in Hawkins for a long time.

Steve thinks you're not as invested in Halloween as you'd like him to believe. He's seen you wearing that black dress before (he's not complaining) and these knee-high boots too (definitely not complaining), so probably the only thing you bought specifically for tonight is the pointy hat you’re using. You're a witch, a pretty one at that, but little effort was put into it.

“What do you care?”

Steve doesn't let go of your hand, but he’s not holding it tightly either; your brain doesn't register that your body can run away, though. 

Maybe you don't want to.

“I heard you say,” you add, “and I quote, 'she's nothing to me’.”

“I didn't mean it!”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I-” he opens his mouth, closes it, not sure what to say. Your hand slips from his and you turn around to keep walking. Steve holds it again. “Wait! Please, just…don't go. Let me explain?”

You snort. It's a bad idea. A smarter person would take that as the perfect excuse to smother any feelings for this boy blooming in their chest.

You open the candy bar in your hand — your favorite, which Dustin gave you about ten minutes ago, and say, “You have until I finish eating this.” 

And starts eating at an impressive speed. 

Steve watches for a moment before realizing that his time is very, very short and decreasing by the second. 

“Y/N, I- I didn't mean what I said about you. I was just-” half of the candy bar, you’ve already eaten half of the candy bar, he thinks, bewildered. “Just…what can I do to make this right? Please- just tell me. I want to fix this. Just-”

Just, just, just. You’re nearly finished eating and you're barely looking at him, barely interested in listening to whatever he has to say. Steve squeezes your free hand and tries to find your eyes and he's losing his mind and…

He grabs the candy bar and holds it behind him, arms stretched, frustration and desperation clear in his warm brown eyes as they find yours.

“Steve!” you chide.

“Would you stop stuffing your face with candy for one moment and listen?!”

Your body moves before your mind can process. You step forward as Steve steps back, keeping the candy bar safe behind him when you reach for it, at first just on instinct, then with enthusiasm, once, twice. Hopeless attempts, really, but you don't have it in yourself to give up easily.

That is until you, already up on tiptoe and desperately reaching for the candy Steve is deftly holding over his head, feel his breath on your face. A second — you’re unarmed. He senses the closeness before you do, of course, and it doesn't go unnoticed that you are the one who put the two of you in this situation in the first place.

His eyes are already on yours when you finally avert yours from the candy you’re trying to retrieve. His pupils are blown, his lips parted. Close, very close. You swallow hard and neither of you pulls away, although probably — says the voice of reason in your head — you should have.

In the end, the words come out of your mouth almost without permission, almost on their own. “You really didn't mean it?” 

You certainly look more vulnerable than you'd like.

“Of course not,” Steve says quickly, and there's the faintest trace of hurt behind his eyes as he does. “Of course I wouldn't- I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well,” you say, smiling the saddest smile he’s ever seen on you, “you did. You really fucking did.”

You don't notice when you lower your arm, giving up on retrieving the candy bar altogether. You don’t think he notices either, even though Steve lowers his own arm. But both of you definitely notice when his hand touches your cheek, gentle, warm. It's more of a reflex; no time for hesitation, for thinking about what he’s doing.

I'm sorry, this touch means.

But you close your eyes tightly, almost as if you're in physical pain, and take a very long step back, shaking your head.  For a long moment, Steve hates himself, hates the way he’s making you feel. His hand stays where you left it for a little longer, between you and him, seeming awfully empty, awfully cold.

It surprises both of you when you're the one who speaks again.

“Why did you say that?” you question without looking him in the eyes. The fear of the answer is smaller than the frustration of not knowing.

Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

“Because- because Heidi was jealous of you, okay?” he says. 

Heidi, the wannabe supermodel he's been seeing lately. You give a particularly bitter laugh and look away for a brief moment. You can't believe it. That’s his excuse?

“What was I supposed to say?” 

"The truth!" you're not proud that you raise your voice even though you're not really yelling. There's anger, fear, frustration, things beyond your control burning in your throat. “You could have told her the fucking truth, Steve!”

“Oh, really?” Steve raises both eyebrows, ironic. "I was supposed to tell Heidi that since we met you've been the only damn thing on my mind?" He steps forward and you don't step back, caught into some sort of hypnosis, a connection you can't break even when he gets close enough to be too close. “That she has every right to be jealous of you because every time you walk into the room I don't have eyes for anyone else?"

Your heart is doing all sorts of things inside your chest. “What do you-”

“- that I'm head over heels for you… pathetically so?” he chuckles a bitter sound, though it's entirely true, then gazes at the ground when his ever-reliable self-confidence finally wavers in your silence. “Yeah, well… I thought it'd be better if I lied to her too, so I did.”

Your chest rises and falls like you've run just run a marathon. Thump, thump, thump. And then you look at him. Just…look at him. 

“You're an idiot,” you say. But your voice is soft, the way you speak feels more like a hug than an attempt to push him away, an invitation disguised as a tease.

He lifts his eyes to yours, tests the waters.

“I think so,” he whispers after a moment. Because he really is. And this close to you, he feels sillier by the second. He mumbles your name and you lift your chin as if to say 'huh?'

She's going to kill me, he thinks. One of these days. Today. 

He can almost feel the intimacy from before that day on Family Video, that comfortable feeling that always existed between you, the warm smiles and the curious looks; everything coming back. But there's also something new now, something he tried to build with all those words he’d confessed moments ago.

Steve tries not to make anything fall apart when he asks, “Do you forgive me?”

“Um…” you pretend to think deeply. “...maybe.”

“Alrigh,” he says, catching the glimpse of a smile on your face. And then… “Alright.”

And there, right in the middle of the street, on Halloween night, Steve gets on his knees. Yes, the street is deserted now — there aren't any kids around at the moment, but people in their houses might see a strange scene if they were to look out the window now; a boy on his knees in front of a witch.

He drops what's left of your candy on the floor and you cover your mouth with your hand, stifling a laugh you can barely hide. “Steve! Stop it! Get up. You’ll get your pants dirty.”

“Who cares?” he says, beaming up at you. “I'm humbly begging for your forgiveness.”

“This is ridiculous.”

He smiles and doesn't say anything, and before you know what you’re doing, your hand rests on his face. But Steve doesn't pull away; he leans into your touch and you hold your breath for a moment. 

“You're smiling, though,” he points out. 

You can't help it. 

“Do you really…” His skin is warm under your fingers and you’re momentarily unsure whether to ask what you want to know, thinking that maybe you're pushing your luck, that you should be glad you've heard him say it once, that he might change his mind. …

Steve turns his face and kisses the palm of your hand. "What?" he asks softly.

“Do you really think of me in that way?” you finally ask, now without looking at him. “Or are you just… trying to make up for what you said that day? Because if you are, you don’t h-”

Instead of answering, he stands up, wipes his knees as best as he can (not very well) and offers his hand, palm up. 

“C'mon.”

You take it. His hand in yours feels right, and you let him guide you towards a large tree by the side of the road, big enough to hide you from view.

“Soooo…you’ll kill me now?”

It's a bad excuse of a joke, a terrible attempt at easing the tension. He smiles anyway.

"Actually," Steve brings your clasped hands to his lips and kisses the back of yours tenderly. "I was thinking about kissing you."

You must be a sight — cheeks warm, eyes wide. A mess inside, a mess outside.

"You didn’t answer the question."

“I'm not going to kill you now, Y/N.”

“ No, before that…you didn’t answer."

“I know,” Steve says. "Here’s my answer."

Then he holds your head in both hands and kisses you, and something comes alive in your chest. It's slow at first, slower than you'd imagined a kiss with Steve Harrington would be, and ten times, a hundred times, better, sweeter, kinder. Your pointy hat falls from your head and you couldn't care less.

Steve takes his time. You taste like chocolate, smell like spring and he kisses, kisses, kisses, walking you backwards until you're pressed up against the tree and smiling against his mouth. You giggle when he redirects his kisses to your left cheek and hold back a moan when his mouth finds the soft skin just below your ear, nibbling gently.

"Does this answer your question?" he says against your skin.

“I, uh, don’t know, Steve,” he bites your neck lightly, then presses his lips on the spot. You sigh happily and say, “I think I need you to tell me again.”

He would be happy to tell you a thousand times more.

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

[baekhyunsbambii]

Forbidden Waltz | Kang Yeosang

SYNOPSIS. Your university is quite well renowned for its creative and abstract programs, so it was no surprise that the majority of the students were pursuing a profession in arts. There was a focus in art, film, dance, drama, music, you could go on. These departments, however, enforced an unspoken, exclusive clique social norm. You never understood it. Thus, the student body was quite split based on their major.

PAIRING. Dance Major! Yeosang x Art Major! Reader (afab)

GENRE. enemies to lovers, mutual pining, edgy Yeosang, smut, Dom! Yeosang

WARNINGS. Profanity, NSFW, bullying themes, unprotected sex (wrap ya willy!), penetrative sex, fingering, oral (giving) semi public sex (?)

if you wanna be added to my tag list lmk! :) <3

Reqs are open!

Ever since freshman orientation, you remembered that one man’s stupid fucking face

Kang Yeosang

He was one of the most talented dancers to enter the university's program, being consistently scouted and recruited from various labels and companies

Despite this, he never paid attention to any of the offers he received

He would always gloat about how he valued the college experience more than putting himself out there for fame

You couldn't stand him. He was so full of himself.

Sure, you would admit that he was good-looking. Maybe more like exceptionally good-looking, but you would never admit that aloud

He already had the entire student body whipped for him. Not only was he phenomenal at dance but he had a charismatic personality as well

He was a magnet for people, that was for sure

quickly climbing the social hierarchy at the school, and of course, being in a completely different field of study had the two of you barely seeing one another

which was a good thing, you thought

You didn't know what it was, but something about him really bothered you

He always presented himself as a model student, he wouldn’t take anything less than perfect

In addition, he seemed to have no qualms with anyone, including departments outside of dance

He was odd, that was for sure

You swore this kid was some sort of machine from what you heard about him, it seemed too good to be true

And you were right

You have to walk past the dance department to reach your section of the art building

A practice room door is cracked open and you hear someone… punching a wall?

You poked your head in and saw none other than Yeosang slumped against the mirror, head held in his hands

“I fucking hate this goddamn school I hate all these annoying ass dickheads I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.”

Holy shit.

Mr. Perfect wasn't so perfect anymore

You were lost in your own wave of thoughts until you noticed Yeosang looking directly at you, eyes narrowed to points

“What the fuck do you want?”

He is not having it.

Who does this art nerd think they are? invading his practice room like it's some kind of open house.

“Get the fuck out,” he pulled himself upward and took a few steps toward the door where you stood

Your lips flatten into a tight line. “Sorry, sorry I’m going—,” You pulled yourself away from the door and slammed it shut

Fuck.

He was not happy.

You knew the power he held on campus too

Anxiety hit you like a bus.

What if he told people that you were a creep?? What if he got the art department to turn on you??

You vigorously shook your head, praying that nothing would come from that interaction

boy were you wrong

You swore you never saw this man on campus and now suddenly you see him everywhere??

Wherever you go— the library, dining hall, and in the unfortunately shared building between art and dance — he is always right behind you

It got to a point where you would purposefully show up early or late to places to avoid spotting the all-too-familiar brunette.

That was until he had you cornered in your art room.

“What are you doing here?” You spun around, dropping the brush in your hands and nearly kicking your easel over

“You don’t belong here—“

Yeosang slammed the studio door behind him, rattling your art supplies on the table.

You nearly jumped a foot into the air

“What the fuck!”

He simply folded his arms over his chest and leaned his body against the doorframe.

“I thought it’d do you well to have a taste of your own actions,” He yawned, his gaze followed your movements in an almost predatory manner.

“Are you serious— it was a mistake! I never meant to go into your dumbass dance studio,” you scoffed, returning your focus to the painting in front of you.

As you swiped your brush across the textured canvas, doing your best to avoid the pair of eyes burning into the back of your head, you failed to notice a shadow looming over your figure.

“Hmm, maybe you are talented after all.” Yeosang’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck, tickling your skin softly.

You leaped out of your seat, tripping and nearly knocking everything over in front of you had you not saved yourself on a nearby counter.

“Seriously Yeosang, get out.” You hissed with disdain. “I can’t focus on getting anything done when you’re—“

He advanced toward you, step by step.

You hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to you until your back hit the edge of the counter.

shit

His hands caged you against the table and you felt him tilt his head down toward you

"Hm?" His eyes raked down your body as his head leaned to the side

“Whats wrong artsy?” He wore a shit eating grin displayed across his lips.

“Yeosang Im not playing around right now I need to—!”

You were cut short as his lips crashed against yours. His hands moved from the counter to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You found yourself frozen, before you melted into his touch.

What has gotten into you?

He pulled away for a split second to take a breath, his gaze resting on your lips.

“I didn’t take you as a rule breaker,” He chuckled lowly, his hand traveling to the side of your waist.

You hated to admit it, but something inside of you was actually enjoying this.

A dance and art student?? getting together?? never heard of.

Let alone in the middle of an art studio.

“Yeo—“

His hands gripped your sides and he lifted you onto the counter, boxing you in with his arms.

“Hmm?” He looked up at you, his eyes flashing with mischief.

“We’re in an art atudio,” you hesitated, shifting your weight around.

“And?” He leaned forward, causing you to lean backward on your hands.

“I— Isn’t this a little much?” Your eyes darted around the room, inspecting the entrances and windows.

“Not if we make this quick,” Yeosang grins up at you.

His hands make their way down to the waistband of your bottoms. His eyes meet yours, waiting for any hesitation or uncertainty.

“Y—You can.” You managed to sputter out, turning away from his gaze.

Despite looking away you could practically feel him smirking.

His fingers dipped up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers grazing over your waist before dipping down and hooking onto your waistband.

You lift yourself up slightly, allowing him to better remove the article of clothing.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, slipping your bottoms off your ankles before tossing it aside.

“Yeo,” you whispered in a hushed tone, squeezing your fists beside you.

What a tease.

His fingers travel down your stomach to the innermost part of your thighs, tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

You whined in response, tensing your legs together as if to create some sort of friction.

His hands continue kneading your thighs until you feel a finger graze your slit.

You let out a soft moan in response, eliciting a pleased hum from Yeosang.

He teases your entrance, spreading your arousal around before plunging a finger inside of you.

You let out a soft moan, “Yeo—“

Your voice catches in your throat when he starts pumping in and out of you, curling his finger upward with his movements.

Your hands fly to grip the table beneath you and you stifled the sounds that threatened to escape past your lips.

He slips a second finger inside you, his movements quickening with each stroke.

He grins up toward you, a seemingly sweet face in contrast to what his hands were doing to you.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught,” he leaned over you before sliding his fingers out of you and guiding you off the counter.

His hand caressed the side of your face before he began to lower the waist band of his pants.

You slowly sunk to your knees, your hands over taking his to lower his pants down beneath his hips.

All that was left was his boxers, and you could practically see the outline of his hard on

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers before sliding them down his thighs

Holy fuck

You wrap your fingers around his length, stroking him a few times before you engulf him with your lips

He lets out a low groan of satisfaction, his hand traveling down to cup your cheek

You began bobbing your head down his length, and Yeosang’s head lulled back

“You’re doing so well for me,” he whispered, looking down at you to meet your gaze.

Your eyes met his as you kept up with your pace

Yeosang fisted your hair, guiding your head down his length when a sharp knock to the door alerted you both

You pulled away from him immediately, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you

The door handle jiggled, and to your relief it had been locked

Yeosang chuckled silently, his gaze shifting from the door back to your form on the floor

“What, did you think I’d be so careless?”

“Now, let’s get back to where we left off.”

#yeosang #yeosang x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #yeosang x you #yeosang smut #kpop smut #ateez smut #yeosang imagines #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang smut

[irisintheafterglow]

I Think He Knows (pro!kirishima x you)

summary: he's not into party games, so what do you do for seven minutes when you're locked in the closet with your high school crush?

wc: 2.9k

cw/tags: aged up characters!!, friends to lovers, mutual pining, swearing (lots of it), truth or dare, slightly suggestive toward the end but nothing descriptive, first kiss, alcohol and drinking, just pro heroes being idiots

note: prompt is once again from @creativepromptsforwriting because i wanted to write a silly party confession fic ! hope you enjoy, i did NOT mean for this to become this long lmao. he's literally so boyfriend why can't he be real

likes/reblogs/feedback is always appreciated <3

“I want him so bad I’m gonna pass out,” she confesses, throwing herself onto your body and sighing longingly. “Do you think he thinks of me often?”

“Now I really feel like we’re in high school again, ‘chaco. I think you should talk to him about your love life instead of me. Maybe he’ll get the hint, that way.” 

“Hypocrite.” She scowls at you over the rim of her plastic cup, downing another serving of punch with questionable amounts of alcohol. “I had to hear about your infatuation all the time.” 

You stick your tongue out defiantly. “It wasn’t an infatuation. It was just a crush, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, a crush that lasted three whole years,” she hiccups, crossing her legs next to you on the couch and leaning her head on your shoulder. “Do you think about him often? Remember, no lies.” Your eyes immediately gravitate to who she’s talking about, supervising some drinking game at the wet bar that has Kaminari’s eyes watering and Shoto’s face bright red. Deku tries in vain to stop Bakugo from downing shot after shot, ultimately accepting a mystery concoction handed to him by Sero. He immediately spits it out all over Bakugo and both of them are so intoxicated they can’t aim hits at each other correctly. You laugh under your breath and quickly dart your eyes away when Kirishima looks over his shoulder in your direction. Ochaco nods knowingly, giving your thigh a squeeze that startles you. “Oh, you definitely do.” 

Before you can respond, Mina throws the front door of Sero’s house open followed closely by Jiro and Momo. Overflowing grocery bags of junk food line her arms and she kicks the door shut behind her as her hands are both holding a bottle of soju each. Cheers echo through the house at her arrival and she bows dramatically. 

“Looks like the party’s finally here,” Ochaco winks at you before joining Tsu to help Mina unload the groceries. You shake your head as your chest feels the familiar lightness that always came when your entire class was happy and having fun. It was Mina’s idea to have a reunion party, after all, and you knew everyone was looking forward to it. It was scheduled months ago because everyone’s calendars needed to line up and from the looks of it, all of you needed the break. With the press kept back by several thousands of volts of electricity running through the perimeter gate of Sero’s house, you and your friends could finally relax.

Or, so you thought. 

“Okay, party people! Now that we’re all slightly fucked up, it’s time for some games! First game is 7 Minutes in Heaven!”

“As if this hasn’t been 45 minutes of Hell already,” Shinso deadpans from a neighboring armchair, but even you could tell he was enjoying himself by the slight quirk in the corner of his mouth. 

Mina sends a joking glare at him, chucking a balled-up napkin at him. “Get in the fucking circle, Hitoshi.” 

You slide down from the couch onto the floor and feel a muscular bicep press against your arm. “You mind if I sit here?” When you turn to that all-too-familiar voice, you’re blinded by a bright shark-toothed grin and glittering crimson eyes. You smile and nod in assent, eyes widening when you look away to stop your heart from racing. You catch Ochaco’s gaze and she smirks mischievously, to which you loudly suggest the seat next to her when Deku is trying to find a spot in the circle. You wink at her and crack open another can of some fruity mixed drink. 

“So!” Mina begins as Jiro positions an empty glass bottle on the coffee table in the middle of the circle. “Do we all know the rules of 7 Minutes in Heaven–”

“Why the fuck are we using a bottle?” Bakugo’s rough voice cuts through the polite silence and Mina rolls her eyes. “Isn’t that a different fucking game?” 

“It’s only there to ensure no bias in the participants of the game, Bakugo,” Shoto boredly drawls. His face is blank when his eyes meet Bakugo’s. “If we wanted, we could spin your dense head–”

“You wanna go, Ice Pack?”

“Let’s allow Mina to finish speaking!” Ever the diplomat, Momo shakes her head impatiently while she effectively halts the two Pros’ piss match. You feel Kirishima’s sigh of relief that he didn’t have to restrain anyone and bite your lip to suppress a chuckle. 

“As I was saying,” she continues as she delicately dances around the circle. “The bottle will be spun two times. If it lands between two people on the first go-around, those people have to go in. But normally, whoever the bottle points at gets locked in the closet with the other person who’s pointed at for seven minutes. What you two do for those seven minutes…” A suggestive glint flashes across Mina’s dark eyes and she shrugs carefreely. “That’s none of our business.”

An awkward silence settles over the group as Mina continues to stand but seems to be expecting someone else to speak. She clears her throat and Denki suddenly perks up with something to say. “Wait, is this when I do the thing?” Your eyebrows dip in confusion, as do most of your other classmates except for Mina and Sero. 

“Yes, Denki. This is when you do the thing, so go get it.” Sero pinches the bridge of his nose as Denki shoots upward, running down the hallway to grab something from the storage closet. When he returns, he triumphantly holds a cardboard box labeled “HEART RATE MONITOR x2.”

Deku groans, covering his face as Mina beams. “Oh, no…”

“Oh, yes.”

“Did you steal that from some fuckin’ pharmacy?” Bakugo and Shoto both appear horrified. 

“What? No! I got it from my neighbor’s garage sale.”

“That’s even worse!”

Sounds of protest erupt from your classmates and you can’t help giggling at their reluctance to have their heart rate tracked. From your time in high school and into your professional career, you knew you never got picked during these games. You were resting easy knowing you never had to kiss one of your friends because of some stupid bottle. Especially with the positioning of Kirishima right next to you, the odds of you two needing to go into the closet together were slim to none. Tonight, you knew, would be no different than the past as you vaguely listened to Denki explain the use of the heart rate monitor. 

“Basically, we’re gonna call out if you’re making the other person’s pulse jump. It’s like that one part of that couples show we caught Iida watching during our second year,” Mina summarizes and Iida’s stoic voice pipes up in defense of his “research” on how best to acquire a lover while the circle snickers at the memory. Tokoyami’s hand reaches up to pat his shoulder sympathetically. 

“Alright, spin the fuckin’ bottle already! I’m literally aging over here.” Kirishima snorts next to you, hiding a choked laugh with a cough into his sleeve and you jokingly pat his back in concern. You’re too preoccupied with looking at him to notice the gasps and noises of shock as the bottle finishes its rotation around the circle. Confused at the excited expressions of your friends, you look down to see who the bottle pointed at. 

It was between you and Kirishima. 

You had to play 7 Minutes in Heaven with the boy you had a crush on for the entirety of high school. 

Your mind blacked out, face feeling like it was on fire as you both were hooked up to one heart monitor each. You didn’t dare glance at Kirishima because, for all you knew, he was irritated about being picked for these types of games since it wasn’t manly. Ochaco waggled her eyebrows at you and you felt slightly nauseous as she hooked up the machine to your pulse, guiding the wires under the door. “We’ll see you in seven minutes,” Mina crooned. “Have fun!” 

The door locked and you were in complete darkness with him. It was suffocatingly quiet, so silent that breathing felt like a trumpeting elephant. Hushed whispers come from the other side of the door as your classmates analyze your pulse. 

Jesus, his heart is racing. Like, dangerously fast!

So is theirs. Doesn’t sound like they’re doing anything in there, though.

You think he’ll actually make a move tonight?

Dude, shut the fuck up. They can probably hear us through the door. 

You swallow and wince when the noise is audible in the isolated quiet of the closet. 

“So, uh–”

“I, um–” 

You both start to speak and cut off just as abruptly, apologizing profusely and insisting the other go first. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. 

“Look, honestly, I’m not really…into these types of games,” he starts, breath ragged but you couldn’t imagine why. “I don’t really know how to explain it, I just…”

“I know. It’s okay. Not manly to make out or do God knows what with someone you’re not dating, right?” Your laugh is shaky and you mentally kick yourself for feeling so jittery. 

“Yeah,” he exhales, relieved that you’re not going to expect him to do something he was uncomfortable with. You know damn well he would never make you do something you were uncomfortable with. It’s quiet again for a few moments before he clears his throat and continues. “But… I feel bad just making you sit here in awkward silence so…do you wanna play truth or dare instead?” 

Oh, shit, their heart rate finally spiked! 

Why’s it say that his breathing is super shallow? 

You’re reading something wrong because that’s definitely not what this measures. 

“Sure.” You hear him shift around in his seat on the floor and you lean against the wall, pulling your legs close. “Wanna go first?” 

“Yeah. Alright, uh…well, truth or dare?” 

You choose the safe option, always. “Truth.” You had no idea what he would possibly ask you, but you knew it was probably going to be harmless. 

“What’s your type?” Your blood runs cold in your veins and you pray that your heartbeat isn’t as loud in reality as it is in your ears. He must mistake your silence for confusion. “Like…in a guy.” 

“Um…” Your voice trails off, mind running at a million miles an hour to bury your secret. “Someone nice, I guess.” He hums in acknowledgement, waiting for you to explain further. “I’d like him to be supportive of me and my career. Good with my friends, that’s a given. Uh…yeah. Just not a scumbag.” You laugh to relieve some of the tension in your chest and feel a little lighter when you hear him chuckle too. “I don’t really care about body type or looks; I just want him to be a good person who will treat me right. In my dreams, I’d like him to treat me like I’m royalty, adore me and whatever. That’s hard to come by these days, though.” 

Fuck, his pulse is racing! 

What could they be doing in there so quietly that’s making him so nervous? 

Shall we alert medical personnel? 

No, Iida. You can see their hearts are still beating right here. 

“Alright, well. I hope you find the man of your dreams then. He sounds great.” In the darkness, you could have sworn he sounded almost…disappointed? “Okay, your turn. Ask me.”

“Hmm, okay. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” 

The question slips out before you can stop it. You blame the liquid courage and the mystery drink Ochaco made for you. “What’s your type?” 

Wow, that’s a huge spike for him. 

It looks like their heart rate has leveled out; does that mean they’re not nervous anymore? 

Maybe, or maybe they’re used to the energy now. He’s still a stuttering mess in there, I bet. 

“Uh, someone familiar, if that makes sense. Like, you know, hero stuff can get really exhausting. I think my type is just someone who I can come home to and who’ll love me even through the good and the bad. Someone to help me fight battles, physical and mental, you know?” You nod and realize he can’t see it, so you settle for humming in agreement. Your brain feels fuzzy and it takes a considerable amount of effort to focus on the smooth tone of his voice. 

“Do you remember the first battle we fought together?” 

“Of course I do.” You can hear the fond smile in his voice. “I volunteered to partner with you because I thought you were cool.” 

“You didn’t know anything about me yet.”

“Didn’t matter. It just felt right to be with you.” 

Huge spike for both of them! 

Seems like he’s having a whole rollercoaster of emotions in there. 

Your heart stops again and you wish there was light so you could read his expression, whether he meant it platonically or something more. “Okay, my turn. Would you ever date anyone outside? Like from our friend group?”

He’s silent for a long time and you worry he didn’t hear you correctly before he gives a definitive, “No.” Impulse takes hold of your mind. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m just not interested in any of them.” 

“But you are interested in someone?” The second question falls from your lips naturally and you don’t expect him to answer it considering that it wasn’t part of the game. 

His pulse is slowly increasing again. He must be getting nervous. 

“Yeah, I am.” Your heart drops into your stomach. Of course he was interested in someone, and they were probably interested back, but the likelihood of it being you was in your wildest dreams. 

“Hmm, okay. Your turn.” 

“Are you interested in anyone in our friend group?” 

Your voice chokes in your throat. “Y-Yeah.” Sweat beads on your burning face and for the first time, you’re grateful for the lack of light so he can’t see how much you’re panicking. 

“Are they outside right now?”

“It’s my turn to ask, Kiri.”

“You got an extra one on me, if you think I didn’t notice.” His voice is dangerously low, more serious than you’ve heard him in a long time. “So. Is the person you’re interested in outside right now?” 

Both their pulses are racing again. 

They must be talking about something because this doesn’t happen if you’re just kissing the entire time. 

Oh, because you have lots of experience kissing and getting people’s heart rates up?

Ask your mom about my experience with kissing–

You asshole– 

Shut the hell up! I’m trying to eavesdrop! 

You steady your resolve, inhaling and exhaling deeply before answering the expectant darkness. “No, they’re not out there right now.” You can hear the confusion cross his face as he calculates who in your friend group was absent. 

“Who are you–”

“He’s in here with me.” The smallest oh escapes his lips and you pray for the time to go faster, body burning in shame. “Sorry, this is a really weird way of telling you, but…”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your brain short-circuits. 

“Huh?” You question dumbly. 

“I wanna kiss you. Please.” 

“You don’t have to, Kiri, really. You don’t have to play the rules of the game if–”

“This isn’t about the game anymore. I wanna kiss you, game or no game.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I like you.” He huffs and you hear him run a hand through his hair in the darkness. He only did that when he was nervous. You were making him nervous. “You’re the only one I’m interested in, the only one I’ve been interested in since high school.” 

What the fuck? 

Denki, your fucking machine broke! 

We lost their pulses! 

Did those idiots break the heart rate monitor? 

I think you broke the heart monitor, stupid.

You’re speechless and, tired of words, you crawl toward his voice in the darkness. It seems that he had the same idea as he receives you eagerly. His calloused hands pull you into his lap until you’re on top of him, fiddling with the hair at the back of his neck. His breath is hot on your neck as you wait there for something to happen and you sigh into his mouth when it finally finds yours. The first kiss is gentle and sweet, careful not to scare you away. But after you catch your breath and pull him closer by his jacket collar, his fingers firmly press into your hips, running over the eaves of your body. Your breath comes short and fast and you needily pull him closer as he confidently meets your wordless demands. He pulls away for a moment, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. 

“Kiri…”

“Eijiro.”

“Eiji, please.” 

“Hold on. It’s been seven minutes. And, for the record, I want to date you.”

You’re barely able to supply your agreement before a loud banging on the closet door startles you. 

Alright, lovebirds, that’s time! Opening up the door in three…two…what? 

Before they can open the door, you catch the telltale sound of Eijiro hardening his arm and a spark of light as he slams his fist down on the door handle, locking you in but also locking everyone else out. 

Oh, shit! He actually did it! 

This was his entire fucking plan? 

You better pay for my door when you inevitably break it open! 

Let them be; it’s been a long time coming. 

“Now, where were we?” You laugh in disbelief at the smug grin in his voice as he gently bites the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet, hands roaming increasingly lower on your body. 

“Eijiro, they’re gonna get anxious that we died or something,” you make to leave his lap and open the door, but his arms catch you before you stand. 

“I’ve waited years for you. They can wait a few more minutes.” 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima x y/n

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Best Friend's Brother

modern!jace x reader

Pt 2

A/N: this is from a request for mutual pining with jace and since it's october, i decided to make it set at a halloween party! I will probs do a pt 2 with smut because it wasn't specifically requested.

word count: 698 words

jace pouting ^

“Should we not… you know, get going?” You ask Baela as you both sit in her bedroom, 20 minutes after Floris’ Halloween party has started.

“We’ll be fashionably late. Nobody will be there at 10.” She says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Will Jace be there?” You almost regret asking as she smirks at you.

“Of course he will. I’m sure he and every other guy there will appreciate the costume.” She says as she eyes up your sexy cop attire. “Someone may or may not have given him a tip off to go as a prisoner.” She shrugs.

“You didn’t!” 

“I did. You’re welcome.” She speaks with a cheeky grin on her face as she dons her devil horns. “He practically begged me to tell him what you were going to wear.”

“Don’t lie.” You stick out your tongue at her but little do you know…

~~~

When you walk into the Baratheon household, the smell of liquor immediately reaches your nose.

Gods, I didn’t pregame enough for this. You think to yourself.

Baela makes a beeline for Cregan Stark so you make your way to the kitchen, looking for a drink.

“You don’t look like you’re having a very good time.” The sultry voice of Aegon Targaryen rings in your ear. You turn to look at him, a red pair of swim trunks and a whistle around his neck are his only clothing.

“I only just got here.”

“Let me get you a drink then.” He says with a cheeky grin as he pours you a full cup of spiked punch. “Gotta stay hydrated.”

“I hardly think this will keep me hydrated.” You say but take a sip of the punch anyhow. He steps closer to you, a hand on your waist.

From the other side of the room, Jacaerys Velaryon is fuming. Aegon knows he’s had a thing for you since forever. He made sure your costumes would match for gods’ sake, so why in the Seven Hells does his cousin have his hands on you?

“Why don’t we find a room upstairs? I am a lifeguard. I can give you some mouth to mouth.” Aegon whispers in your ear, seeming far too pleased with the line.

“Back off, Aegon. She’s not interested.” Jace speaks up before you can. You didn’t even notice him walk over but you sure as hell appreciate his costume. He lets his orange jumpsuit hang like overalls to show off the white wifebeater he wears underneath, giving you a perfect look at his arms.

“Oh I think she is.” Aegon tries to tighten his grip on you but Jace shoves him off.

“Don’t touch her.” For the fact that he’s usually such a happy go lucky guy, you’ve never seen Jace so pissed before.

“Okay fuck you then.” Aegon murmurs before wandering off to bother some other unsuspecting girl.

Jace turns to you. “What were you doing talking to a guy like him?” You don’t like the way his anger is turned on you.

“He came up to me.” You say defensively. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to entertain him!” His voice rises a bit.

“What’s your problem? You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”You say. He gets quiet at that, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“I’m trying to protect you. He’s just trying to get into your pants.”

“So? How is that your problem?” You ask, not that you were interested in Aegon but why would Jace care so much if you were?

“Because I don’t want you to, that's how!” It’s your turn to blush now.

“Why don’t you want him to?”

“Because i’m into you, okay? I’ve been into you since like the 10th fucking grade.” He says in a frustrated tone and you grin.

“Really?”

“Yes really. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way but-” You cut him off with a little kiss on the lips.

“Jace i’ve liked you since 9th grade.” You tell him honestly.

“Really?” His face breaks out in a grin too.

“Really.” You confirm and he grabs you by the sides of the face and kisses you again.

“Gods, i’m never letting Aegon near you again.”

taglist(comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #modern!jacaerys #hotd #hotd x reader

[moonlight-prose]

✧ ECHOES OF YOU ✧

a/n: i had planned to be done with this days ago, but steven's inspo was nowhere to be found. so this is written the day before and it might be a mess, but we're going with it. not going to lie i suck at dialogue most of the time, so this being mainly dialogue makes me a bit anxious. hopefully y'all enjoy.

day twelve - mutual masturbation + phone sex | kinktober 2023

summary: "it was its own kind of torture to be without him for so long. steven had gotten used to calling it a recipe for disaster."

word count: 1.8k+

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk like so much, needy steven, dirty pictures, a slight bit of angst.

Five days.

That’s how long it’s been since your boyfriend up and joined Marc Spector on a mission they couldn’t tell you anything about. Five days since he planted a soft kiss to your lips with the promise of seeing you in a maximum of three days. You couldn’t blame Steven. Not when he’d been worried about even leaving you behind in the first place. After several hours of talking and saying you’d be okay, his mind settled a bit.

Yet there you lay. Alone in his bed, wearing his favorite sweater and staring at his contact name on your phone. The glow a bright white against your face. You hesitated on pressing the call button, too afraid of what might come from the other end. But you missed his voice. Ached to hear him say a few sentences, wish you a good night, say he loved you.

So you pressed it, dragged it up to your ear, and listened anxiously as the phone rang slowly.

There was no guarantee that he’d pick up. You were pretty sure that he didn’t even have his phone on him. The small device traded in for something discreet and off the grid. But that didn’t stop your heart from hammering in your chest with each ring of the phone—the sound echoing in your head like a damn bell that would never stop. You shouldn’t be doing this; shouldn’t be disturbing him when something important happens.

Except then the line crackled, the incessant ringing finally giving way to the echo of him.

“Love?”

Hearing Steven’s voice was like a punch to your chest. The sound of it, the accent you missed dearly, simply the way he breathed all amounted to that painful twinge in your body. The same one that twisted like a fucking knife as he repeated the endearment he called you. His voice filled with concern.

“Steven,” you breathed, emotion practically dripping from your voice.

You could hear the panic in his voice rise. “Is something wrong? Are you okay? What’s happened?”

“I’m okay baby,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the sweater. “Just missed you is all.”

He sighed in relief, a small laugh filtering through the phone. “I miss you too. Marc’s nearly done here and I’ll be home soon.”

It was its own kind of torture to be without him for so long. Steven had gotten used to calling it a recipe for disaster. Neither of you being able to handle long lengths of time without hearing each other’s voices, feeling the tender touches you’d grown so used to. You wanted to reach through the phone and press your hands against his chest. Hear the way his heart beat strong and steady in his chest.

At least then you’d know he was okay.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” you murmured, staring up at his ceiling.

You could practically hear the grin in his voice. “What I’m doing? Or what I’m wearing.”

“Don’t be cheeky Steven.” Marc was beginning to wear off on him and even you had to admit it was beginning to fluster you beyond your control.

“I’m in a hotel room.”

“Mmm.” You shifted until you were propped up on some pillows. “Sounds romantic.”

He chuckled, the sound shooting down to your stomach and causing your heart to skip a beat. “It’s…”

“Seedy? Debauched? A place for people to fuck and nothing else?” You grinned at the sound of him choking on his spit, a cough echoing through the speaker. You’d placed the phone on your chest, setting him to speaker in the hopes that his voice would envelop the entire flat. That it would soak right into your skin.

The question from before resurfaces. Only this time…you aren’t the one to ask it.

His voice comes in lower than before, a soft rasp to it that usually came when he was between your thighs—brown eyes dark and all consuming. It has your breath hitching in your chest. A flutter going through your stomach at the sound. You could practically see him in your mind. The outline of his muscles beneath his shirt—or Marc’s shirt to be exact.

You could practically see him above you, the way his cheeks flushed a darker shade, eyes dilated as he took in what you looked like beneath him. Ever the observant man you fell in love with. You craved seeing him like that now. Needed to feel like you were close enough to touch, even if he wasn’t in the same country.

“What are you wearing love?” His voice was a bit hesitant, still a bit nervous to instigate things like this, but it made you clench around nothing.

“Steven,” you breathed, shifting your legs together and feeling a trickle of wetness pool in your panties.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, hands spreading along the sheets. “Your sweater. The one that has a hole in the side.”

“The blue one?”

You nodded, only to remember he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”

He hummed softly, the echo of something shifting in the background coming through the speaker. Perhaps he was simply laying down. Or even getting comfortable. But then you heard it. The whisper of a zipper being pulled down, of denim being shucked off—his breaths getting heavier as he held you there in silence. A soft whine left your mouth, hands sliding down to your thighs because you knew what he was doing. What he was about to ask you to do.

“Are you…” He cut himself off with a shaky breath.

Nodding, you pulled off your panties and deposited them at the end of the bed, his sweater getting shoved up your body. “Yeah baby. I am.”

“Good.”

A shiver rolled down your spine, mouth parting when your fingers dipped even lower, teasing the seam of your pussy just as he would. “Wish you were here.”

He let out a heavy breath, a noise coming from the back of his throat, and you could practically see the image in your mind. Of his hand moving to wrap around his cock. You wondered if he was already dripping for you, if the head was read and swollen. What you wouldn’t give to take him into your mouth at this time. To taste the salty tang of him spread along on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’ll be home soon I swear. I’ll drag Marc back if I have to.”

Your lips pulled into a smile. “I don’t think he’d be happy about that.”

“Don’t care.” He gritted his teeth. “Wanna hold you love. I need it.”

A mewl broke free when you finally slid your fingers through your wet heat, gathering the slick that practically dripped down your inner thigh and swirled it around your clit. Sparks flooded your senses. That feeling you’d been unable to achieve without Steven. Still even as you built up the release that would no doubt come, it felt different. Lonely.

“Are you touching yourself?” you panted, shifting your hips to give yourself better access.

“Yeah.” His voice was high, whispered in the darkness of his hotel room, and it was fucking delicious.

“Spit on it for me.”

A broken sound tore from his chest, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. The sound of him shuffling to lean forward, his spit now covering his cock, echoed lewdly in the empty flat. Causing you to gasp softly when you sunk two fingers into yourself. Grinding against the heel of your palm to chase the friction you needed.

“Want you to—hng—put three fingers.” He pumped his cock rapidly, the wet sounds of it reverberating against your chest—filling you with the senses you longed to have in person.

Adding another finger, you moaned his name, head tipping back and legs stretching out to make more room. “Steven. I’m—oh fuck I’m r-right there.”

He grunted, spitting again and you could see it as if he were right in front of you. How slick his length would be. The way his hand would glide easily over it, thumb pressing right beneath the head just the way he loved. You wanted him to fuck your mouth, to spill messily down your throat, but you’d settle for this. The sound of him whining and moaning—the sounds so perfect they were now forever etched into your mind.

“‘M gonna fuck you when I get home,” he said softly, breaths coming in short as he sped up his movements.

You moaned, your other hand reaching up and teasing your nipple. “W-Where?”

“T-The—ah—” He keened, the wet echo of him fucking his fist nearly sending you over the edge. “Kitchen.”

“Shit,” you gasped, curling your fingers in the hopes that you could mimic how he moved his. “Yeah baby? On the table?”

“Uh-huh.”

You felt the pull in your body, the way it went taut as your fingers curled just right. He must have heard you make a sound, his voice now filtering through the lust filled haze of your mind. If there’s one thing about Steven it was that his nerves dropped when things were going. He became a man starved. Devouring you every way he knew how, and even over the phone did he draw you tight, dragging you over the edge.

“I can hear your pussy love,” he breathed. “Gonna cum for me?”

Nodding, you gasped, pulling at your nipple and pretending it was his teeth. “S-Steven—”

“Do it. Fuck…please I’ll cum with you.” His breathy whine did you in. Ripped your release right from your body and shoving you over the edge.

A soft cry of his name echoed in the flat, your eyes fluttering shut and thighs trembling as he tipped over with you. Over the hum in your ears, you heard him moan your name—a drawn out long sound that shoved you even higher. Prolonging your pleasure you rubbed quick circles over your clit. Gasping, you tore your hand away as pain began to filter in, your body humming with an overwhelming amount of bliss.

He shuffled, a soft ding coming in through the silence, and you lifted the phone slowly. Blinking to clear the daze. Until you saw it. The picture was dark and slightly blurry, but you could make out Steven’s hand holding his cock—cum dripping down his hand and onto his stomach. You moaned softly, rubbing your thighs together as your mouth watered.

“How long until you’re home?” you asked softly, eyes glued to the vein that ran down his length.

He breathed a laugh. “Soon.” A small pout formed on your lips and as if he could see it through the phone, his voice came through again. “I promise love.”

“Okay,” you replied, lifting your phone and angling it—catching the perfect image of your pussy covered in the shiny wetness that also coated your fingers. Steven’s breath hitching as it sent and a soft needy sound coming through made you smile. “See you soon baby.”

#steven grant x f!reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant smut #steven grant #moon knight smut #my writing #kinktober 2023

[spideystevie]

💘 “it’s not much, but i got you this.” with stevie but friends to lovers vibes 🤭🤭 maybe u got stood up on a valentines date or smth

ruby your brain is sooooo…… the friends to lovers vibe here KILLS me! the way i was giving myself the butterflies writing this…it’s bad for me out here. mutual pining...idiots in love....love being in the little things.... yeah <3 [1.1k] | join the party!

Getting stood up sucked but something about it being Valentine’s Day rubbed just a little bit more salt into the wound. You’re not sure how many more sympathetic, pitying looks you can take. 

“Sweetie, if you’re not gonna order we’re gonna have to ask you to give up the table,” your waitress says, that same sad smile on her face. Her eyes are kind and you know she means well but you can’t handle any more sympathy tonight. You smile at her tightly. 

“Okay,” you relent, pushing your chair out. You pull out a few spare dollar bills you had in your purse and leave them on the table before leaving. When you’re outside and pulling your jacket around yourself to help against the wind, you’re wishing you asked to use their phone.

There’s a payphone maybe a block away you think and you start your trek to it, feeling more angry than anything else now. Stupid Bobby Skeeter, leaving you stranded like that. You scoff to yourself, kicking a pebble with the toe of your boot. 

When you get to the payphone and punch in Steve’s number, you hardly expect him to answer on the first ring.

“Steve?” he responds with your name and before he can get far, you cut him off. “I’m at the payphone off Cherry and Main.” You can hear him shuffling on the other line, hear the jingling of his keys getting snatched off the counter. “Bobby didn’t….”

“I’m on my way,” is all he says and then he hangs up. You stand with the phone to your ear listening to the dial tone for a second before setting it back on the receiver. 

Steve’s headlights flash over where you’re sitting on the curb when he pulls up not even ten minutes later. It should’ve taken him longer but you don’t dare question it. You rise to your feet as Steve gets out of his car and rounds it to give you a hug. 

You hadn’t been all that sad before if you had to be honest with yourself but feeling Steve’s arms around you, squeezing you tight breaks some kind of dam behind your eyes. The first tear slips down your cheek as you wrap your arms tighter around Steve’s neck and hide your face against his collarbone. 

He rubs a hand up your back and lets you hold on for as long as you need in the shine of his headlights. The car is still running behind you two and you can faintly hear a Bruce Springsteen song playing over his stereo. After the song ends, Steve speaks up. 

“Are you hungry?”

You pull your head back with a small, wet laugh and nod. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, taking a step back. It’s only then does Steve realize how pretty you look, done up for a date that didn’t deserve you. “Starving.”

He takes you to a small diner off Fifth Street on the edge of town and you fill yourselves on greasy cheeseburgers and salty french fries and Steve insists on the two of you getting milkshakes. He makes you laugh and you almost forget all about your failed date.

Afterwards, he takes you home. You sit in his car in front of your house for a minute. In the silence, it’s easy to feel sad and sorry for yourself again. You bite back the prick of tears at the corner of your eyes. 

“I wasn’t even sad at first,” you say, feeling like you need to explain yourself. Steve looks at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “At first, I was pissed and I spent the whole walk to the payphone cursing his entire existence. And then…I don’t know,” you scrunch your nose and wipe at your eyes. “I guess it was just a way for me to hide how much it hurt me, you know?”

Steve frowns, eyes scanning over you. He grabs your hand and squeezes it three times, like an apology he doesn’t need to give and a way of letting you know he’s there and he cares. 

“Barry’s an idiot,” he says, purposely getting his name wrong because he knows it’ll make you smile. You roll your eyes. 

“Bobby.”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Same syllables.”

You let out a soft laugh, looking down at your hands in your lap. 

“I, um. I’ve got something for you,” he says, letting go of your hand and leaning across you to open the glovebox. He pulls out a small wrapped gift and your eyes track it, your heart slowly starting to inflate. He holds it out to you. 

“It’s not much..” you look at Steve and his heart chips away in his chest from how sad your eyes look. “But I got you this.”

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. You take the wrapped gift from his hands, shifting against the passenger’s seat of the car. 

“You got me a Valentine’s gift?” you ask, voice sounding small. Steve’s cheeks start to warm, turning a light shade of pink that he prays doesn’t show in the dark. His eyes meet yours and he nods, a tight lipped smile on his face. 

“‘Course. Open it,” he nods towards it and you look down at the gift in your lap. You glance back at him once, a tiny smile starting to lift your cheeks. The wrapping is an old brown paper bag but it’s wrapped nice and neat like he took his time with it. (He did.)

You pick at a corner of it and slowly peel back the paper. It doesn’t take you long to uncover his gift to you. It’s a new cassette for your walkman, the one you’d been eyeing lately. The one you’re not even sure you’ve mentioned but one time offhandedly. You think you might start crying again.

“Oh..Steve,” you utter his name so softly, like it’s something delicate and fragile. You swallow, tracing along the album cover art. He follows the movement of your hands with his eyes and then looks back up at your face, just as you’ve wiped away a new set of tears. 

“Oh god...do you..is it..” he can’t get his words out and when you look at him with a beaming smile, eyes teary, he’s truly rendered speechless. 

“It’s perfect. I love it,” I love you, you want to say but you bite your tongue. Instead, you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Stevie.”

He blinks, cheeks burning furiously now. He smiles at you and nods once. 

“Anything for you.”

You have to bite on your lip to contain your grin.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #📝: a writes! #allie's valentine's house party <3 #allie's vday party blurbs!

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 5)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 14.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Angst, body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, fluff, love, smut, mutual pining, Character development, manipulation/deception, Things That Require Communication (Hey Guess What) , Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, self hatred, loss of identity, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dry humping

Note: Ok guys, here we are. Only 4 hours late and with no PiV because I'm a lying bitch but I will write a oneshot if we want it. Holy shit, but can I say that this is the first "series" that I have finished writing. I talk a big fucking game about writing fics for so long, but man those were LONG FICS that I abandoned hundreds of thousands of words in, or they were all oneshots that now only live on my old computer. The ending, I hope, is not disappointing, but I literally didn't want it to be left up to interpretation. Thank you @ghost-proofbaby for tamping my insecurities down with this one. If I am the brains of this series, you for sure are the heart. And let's not forget @shiftingtherain once again for inspiring this whole thing to begin with.

This chapter is unedited...but I am tired and sweaty and happy. So have fun.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"You're lucky I don't have to--shit!" Robin's eyes went as Steve opened the door to the trailer and she got a view of his--Eddie's--face. She reached out, as if to touch the swollen bruising, but second guessed herself and her hands immediately found the straps of her backpack. "What happened to you?"

"Eddie happened," Steve grumbled miserably.

"Eddie?!" Robin shrieked and Steve immediately shushed her and swatted her into the trailer. He pointed to Wayne, who was--thankfully--dead asleep and snoring on the fold-out bed, then ushered her back towards Eddie's room.

He'd felt...somewhat guilty early on when he realized that Wayne slept out there on the uncomfortable fold-out while "Eddie" had a room and a bed, and had tried to offer to swap, but Wayne grumbled something along the lines of "if I told you once, I told you a thousand times."

"Eddie did this?" Robin asked once the bedroom door was shut behind her. "Did he lose his mind?! Why would he punch you? You two are supposed to be...seeing through one another's eyes and all that shit. Working together to get back into your own bodies."

Steve felt his stomach drop.

He had stewed on it all night Friday and all day Saturday as he hid in Eddie's room and wallowed in shame. The sick sort of triumph he felt when he got that response from Eddie--as impulsive and fueled by anger as his own words had been--had faded and as the mottled colors began stitching together and spreading across his skin, the realization of just what he had said had settled in. And with every moment that the ache in his face became more pronounced, his guilt grew.

"I...I might have...fucked up," he admitted. Robin's expression went from one of shock to one of annoyance, and Steve immediately launched into a recap of Friday night. Hell...of everything that he'd been keeping from her.

Because, truth be told, he had been.

Steve knew that Robin was more in touch with her emotions, or rather...acknowledged them at the very least instead of simply ignoring them. She was smart as a whip and when she made you face the truth, it stung just as badly. He had told her that he'd been getting tutoring sessions...just not from who. Every time he brought up Nancy...well...Robin wasn't her biggest fan. Really not because of anything that she had done...except break Steve's heart...but because he couldn't get over her no matter how hard he tried.

And if he was being honest with himself, he hadn't...really tried too hard.

Steve hoped Robin would see things from his perspective, though. Her expression remained stony as he explained everything, but her emotions shone through her eyes as he poured his heart out. As he admitted to all the mistakes he made.

"I don't...I don't really believe those things," Steve explained truthfully. "But when I get hurt? When I'm desperate and overwhelmed? I just...lash out. You know this. And there's so much I've had to keep inside and this whole experience.

"Rob...you've gotta believe me, it's been shit. Eddie's right, his life is hard...I really don't know how he does it but...damn my life sucks too alright? So I figured, if I could have one thing, just one thing, to make it all worth it...this might be it.

"But I don't know why...why he wouldn't just let me have this," he concluded and ran a hand over his face, wincing as he pressed into his black eye.

"Alright, you're not just a dingus, you're a real bonehead," Robin rolled her eyes. "You and Eddie both! This whole situation isn't some treat for either of you, it's supposed to be a lesson."

"I know that!" Steve threw his hands out to gesture at himself. "But I'm still Eddie and Eddie's still me. So what lesson? What is selfless love?"

"Because you haven't...you haven't..." Robin sighed and ran her hands through her bangs. "Maybe we're working backwards? We're trying to find...selfless love. But...but the spell said there was a prize reflected in each other's eyes. What about self love? Gotta love yourself before you love someone else right? Or whatever bullshit those self help people say on the Oprah show."

"That's bullshit Rob, I don't love myself," Steve grumbled. "In fact, I hate myself...a lot."

"Ok ok," she pointed at him. "See and you thought Eddie had it all, that he loved his life. You told me so yourself. You were jealous because he had it all."

"But he doesn't."

"And he thought you had it all? But now he's realizing you don't," she reasoned.

The more Robin talked and rambled, the more she made sense. She snapped her fingers and waved her hands around, as though willing the solution into her head.

"Ok," Steve sighed. "We've figured out that no...we don't actually like being one another...so what gives? Why haven't we switched back?"

Robin gasped and grabbed Steve by the shoulders to shake him.

"It's Nancy! You idiot!" she hissed.

"Nancy?" Steve frowned. "Nancy's not stuck in someone else's body, I am."

"No!" Robin groaned. "You were on the right track but you started thinking with your dick when you thought that you could get back with Nancy!"

Steve began to fidget.

Was it...could that have been the answer all along?

He refused to believe it.

"We loved each other!"

"But you loved her more than she loved you," Robin explained, mirroring words he had once confided in her right back to him. "And you refused to let her go. And now you would quite literally be someone else entirely to get her back."

"She doesn't love Steve," he signed. "But she might love Eddie."

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Robin stared at him, dumbfounded. "You are not Eddie Munson. You have to let her go. You have to accept yourself, and if that means letting Nancy go, then it's the right thing to do. You need to apologize to Eddie...and you need to fix this."

Steve's mind raced; he knew, deep down, it was all true but...he just couldn't accept that it was just that easy.

"Ok, ok, b-but there has to be another way," Steve attempted to deflect and Robin groaned and rolled her eyes. "No, wait, hear me out here. I...I could...help him get a job at the dealership--"

"Not gonna help when you are still Eddie and you don't know shit about cars," Robin reasoned.

Steve pushed past her and dug through the pile of notebooks and textbooks on Eddie's dresser.

"I could get him to graduate," Steve bargained.

"I think you need to give it up," Robin rolled her eyes. "You know what you need to do."

"No, I can do other selfless things, I can, I can..."

Steve and Robin went back and forth, verbally jousting with excuses and explanations, as he flipped through Eddie's school notebooks. He glanced over half-finished essay drafts and barely legible chemistry equations. As though there would be some great solution to this problem amongst the countless algebra equations and--

"Hang on," Steve held his hand out to silence Robin. He turned and showed her the notebook. "Look at this."

"What is it?" She took the notebook from him and they flipped through the notebook together.

Your name. Over and over. Your initials and Eddie's. Little heart drawings and daggers and--what Steve assumed to be--princesses and knights. And then towards the end...a bunch of pen scribbles obscuring the little fantasies with the oh-so-familiar sigil drawn beneath.

It had been a notebook that Steve had scooped into his arms along with piles of Eddie's laundry and other knick knacks in an attempt to tidy up the trailer a little bit for his own sanity Wayne. To clear away some of the clutter. Especially after he and Eddie had torn the trailer apart looking for the occult book that one night, something that felt like ages ago now.

Steve felt a kind of triumph at this. Justification.

What a fucking hypocrite.

So it wasn't just him that was holding up their inevitable switch back, it was Eddie too. Eddie had a crush on you, and now he had gotten exactly what he wanted by dating you for Steve.

Except...

Except Eddie sort of always seemed to be worried about you. Worried about you finding out the truth, wondered how upset you might be if you did.

"Shit..." Steve sighed.

"Ok so maybe Eddie is as much to blame here as you are," Robin rationalized. "I told him...he needed to tell her the truth, that she would be heartbroken. I didn't realize that he..."

"No...it's..." Steve struggled. "Shit...shit."

Because it all made sense. Steve hadn't thought about the details, really, but he knew how it felt to have feelings for someone who you couldn't have...who didn't like you back. And while he happily planned to try Nancy back...Eddie...and you...

"Shit!"

He had to talk to Eddie.

"Hey Steve. Uhh..." You twirled the phone cord around your finger as you stammered into the receiver; the speech that you had practiced in your head was completely forgotten as you got the Harrington's answering machine.

"Listen, you left pretty quickly last night and I was just wondering if everything was alright? Or...or maybe I did something to upset you? B-because...we are having a good day, I just...if I did something...I'm sorry. Anyway...uhm...I'll try calling back later...or I'll...yeah...bye."

You slammed the phone as you hung up and covered your face with a groan.

You were up all night--heartbroken and embarrassed.

Steve left...he ran out of your house. One minute...he was...well he was...

You'd had a wonderful date and you had been...so focused, so in the moment as he...gave you the most intense pleasure you'd ever felt...and he just left.

You had been shocked. Barely clothed, legs made of jelly--whole body made of jelly--stunned into silence as he pushed himself away from you and pulled his clothes back on. When you called his name, he looked sick to his stomach.

His eyes clamped shut, shook his head, and then ran.

You'd pushed yourself out of bed, stumbled after him while calling his name, but he was gone. You could practically hear the tires screeching as he tore down the street.

Something happened. You must have done something. It was the only explanation that made sense. Everything had been going great and then it wasn't, and he looked so...disgusted.

So it must have been you. You wracked your brain for some idea...

Did you...did you make a weird noise? Did you...moan too loud or something?

...until a sense of dread overcame you.

Had you said Eddie's name? And not Steve's?

No...no...you couldn't have. Because as much as Eddie kept popping up in your thoughts...you knew that you were with Steve. Your entire head and heart were filled with Steve Harrington.

So why did something still feel wrong when you thought about it now?

Your mom got home late and had trudged off to bed; she barely glanced into your room to make sure you were asleep, and you had half the urge to stop her before she scuttled off. But you knew she would grill you if she saw the tear tracks reflecting the streetlight outside of your room.

You couldn't tell her about this.

And of course, you didn't tell your mom everything but...you really could have used a little bit of comfort. Her occasional words of wisdom that seemed to make everything better.

It was as you lay in your bed that you thought about the other times you'd gone to her, the times you'd cry after a mishap that your child brain couldn't quite comprehend. All the hurt in the world because of a doll that wasn't shared, or some painful words that were thrown around haphazardly.

"I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding," she always said. "You can talk in the morning, and it'll all be ok."

Except it wasn't ok. And Steve hadn't picked up. And you felt...sick.

You would have gone over to the Harrington's house or Family Video if you didn't have to get to work...to apologize in person and...

And what? What if he never wants to see you again? What if this just pushes him right back into the arms of Nancy Wheeler?

You knew that the insidious little voice in your head was just...just praying on your insecurities. It was irrational, but a fear was a fear. And you didn't want to lose someone you loved as wonderful as Steve.

You took a calming breath and made a plan...you had work today and class all day tomorrow, which meant if Steve didn't call back by the time you got out of work...you might not even going to see him until Tuesday night at the earliest if he was going to hang out with Eddie and the--

Eddie.

Your stomach lurched with nerves.

He and Eddie were friends, it was a fact that you were trying to move past. And as much as it anguished you to see Eddie...you couldn't lose Steve. So maybe...just maybe if Eddie didn't already know what happened and refused to look at you, he would know how to fix this.

You couldn't wait for Tuesday night.

You needed to fix this today.

"There you go sweetie," Mary cooed as she placed a mug of chicken soup on the bedside table and then brushed the hair out of "Steve's" face. "And I ran out and got crackers and ginger ale if you're not feeling up to soup."

"Uh-huh. Great. Thanks mom," Eddie muttered and stared numbly at the plaid-papered walls. If he didn't look at her, if he focused on the tense whooshing sound in his ears instead of her voice, he could pretend that it was his mom taking care of him.

Truthfully, he didn't want to be here, pretending to be sick. After he'd made his escape from your house, he realized he had nowhere to go where he could ground himself in...well...in himself. The one place he wanted--his stupid, ramshackle trailer in Forest Hills...home--was still inaccessible to him. So was his other home, you, as he had just...left you. Ran. Like a coward.

While he didn't want to be stuck in the Harrington's house with Mary up his ass for hours, he knew it was the only place he could really let himself become numb without interference from the outside world. So Eddie resigned himself to another day of being Steve Harrington and allowed Steve's mother to coddle him. The cold reception he had been receiving from Mary was immediately replaced with gentle care that made Eddie feel like a kid again, in those carefree days between his father's incarceration and his mother's death.

Knowing how deceitful she was, though...how willing she was to manipulate her son...well, needless to say that Eddie wasn't really buying the sincerity of Mary's behavior. He wished that it was genuine--for Steve's sake, even though he was still pissed at Steve--but in the case that it wasn't, he was not letting up on his demands.

Chicken soup from the deli, snacks from the grocery store, and some time in the house alone so he could smoke a joint in peace and let the high calm his troubles for a little while.

"You know," Mary sat down on the edge of the bed and Eddie groaned, which immediately got her to change her mind and remain standing. "I called the video store to let them know you were having a sick day, and that manager. Kevin? Keith? He was incredibly rude."

"Yeah," Eddie responded as Mary continued, disinterested in making a conversation now that he had started to come down from his high.

"And speaking of rude," she scoffed. "There's this...rude girl who's called twice this morning already while I was out; she left messages. Is this the girl who you've been going out with Stevie?"

Eddie's interest piqued and his spirits lifted just the slightest, then fell again, when he realized it must have been you.

Now, after the panic had subsided, he knew that he had messed up. That he shouldn't have run. Fuck...he couldn't finish what he started but at the very least he could have...stayed and told you the truth. Told you everything. But hindsight was 20-20, or so they said, and in the heat of the moment...running from the reality that he wasn't himself and that you would never love him seemed like the only thing he could do.

Eddie didn't quite know how to feel about the fact that you were calling him now. It wasn't that he didn't want to see you. No, he...he only wanted to fix what he had messed up. But...he just couldn't stand to see you look at Steve with that look in your eyes. Hear you say his name, when all Eddie wanted was for you to want him.

"...sounded so unsure of herself. That's not the kind of girl you want to attach yourself to; you need someone who knows what they want and will go after it. Not to mention that she apologized. Said she hurt your feelings. Is this why you're sick? What did she do? I'll have a talk with her mother and make sure she never calls you aga--"

Mary's heated speech was interrupted by the rapid ringing of the doorbell. She tried to ignore it but it kept ringing.

"My God, if we're not answering it means we're busy," she groused under her breath and turned on her heel. "Will some people never learn patience."

Eddie said a quick thank you to whatever deities he could think of for getting Mary away from him, and he closed his eyes.

Back to the rest, back to his wallowing. Back to the...sound of rocks hitting the window, what the hell?

Eddie's eyes shot open and he rolled over to stare at the window, and sure enough, tiny rocks kept hitting the glass. Over and over.

Eddie pushed himself out of bed and crossed the distance. He briefly wondered if you might be out there, if you had tried calling with no answer. But he had negotiated with Benny to give you a day off yesterday, so he knew there was no way you weren't at work today.

He opened the window and leaned out, only to find the surprise of his life when he "Eddie" himself...or rather...the real Steve was standing in the backyard, staring up at him.

Eddie felt a strange sense of satisfaction seeing the swollen black eye on his own face. Much more than the memory of him giving it to himself conjured. That he gave to Steve?

Fuck this wasn't getting any easier to sort out in his head. And there was no way that it was gonna be fixed any time soon.

"What do you want?" Eddie called down to Steve. "Come to rub it in my face that you have a real date with Nancy tomorrow night and that I was wrong?"

"I came to apologize," Steve called back. Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No, I'm serious. I fucked up. I said some nasty things and I regret it. I shouldn't have said them. I was angry."

"A lot of true things are said in anger," Eddie sneered at him. "And that wasn't the first time you said some shit like that."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Steve sighed. "You don't have to forgive me, but...fuck I have to make this right because--"

"Save your breath," Eddie rolled his eyes. "I don't wanna hear it."

He could only imagine what happened that would get Steve to change his tune so quickly.

He tried to make a move on Nancy and she told him to get lost because she had a boyfriend already, regardless of what Harrington Charm Steve thought he possessed.

Or she just laughed in his face because who in the world would ever want to date Eddie Munson.

He winced, knowing it was a little too harsh, but his insecurities would win for another day or two. As eager as he was to get back into his own body, to go home, Steve could stand to deal with the fallout of whatever mess he made. Eddie would just stay in bed until Steve was as tired of this shit as he was. Then maybe they can try to work together and fix this again.

He was about to tell Steve to fuck off, when the patio door opened and Mary's voice echoed across the yard.

"Excuse me, this is trespassing!"

Steve was frozen, like a deer in the headlights, at the appearance of his mother.

Steve loved his mom, don't get him wrong, but sometimes...

Sometimes he just didn't understand how she could be sweet and loving one moment, and then an absolute misery the next.

It had been a recent discovery, this sharpness to her. In fact, for the longest time, he never considered that she was anything other than a happy and loving PTA mom, well-respected by friends and neighbors.

Growing up, she did everything Steve thought moms were happy to do. Go to PTA meetings, plan summer barbecues, come to all of the games for the sports he played, and cook elaborate dinners for the whole family to enjoy. But as his dad stayed later and later at the dealership, he was less present at family dinners or available for family outings on the weekends, creating Mommy and Stevie time. And as Steve got older, he preferred to hang out with his friends and run around Hawkins then stay at home alone with his mom.

He saw the light start to disappear in her eyes and he just...thought nothing about it. Didn't realize that he was also one to contribute to it.

Tommy H. had made a joke once about his dad having an affair, and Steve just...figured that must be the case for his dad too. He must have been, which is why...why he and mom didn't smile at each other much any more, why birthday gifts had become more elaborate and expensive, why both of his parents traveled together when his dad had conventions and auto shows.

And Steve defended her, always. She was an active member of the community, she went out with friends, and volunteered at the church. She did her best to take care of anything and everything the family needed. Protected them.

Until she didn't.

Until the one afternoon that the strip mall had lost power and Family Video closed early, and Steve came home to find his mom and Mayor Kline together.

All of the care and the sweetness and the motherly love vanished. Steve had suggested she talk to dad, if she was so unhappy...so lonely...but she had spat and swore and cursed his father, claimed that he was the one who ruined things. Ruined her happiness. Ruined their family. But once she saw the hurt expression on Steve's face, she begged him to let it go, to forget about what he saw. Promised that she would do better, she would talk to dad and fix it. For him.

But it happened again, and again. Steve hadn't seen the mayor in their house but he saw the evidence of him. The tie pin left in the bowl that they dropped their car keys in, an extra wine glass next to his mother's on the coffee table. Everything she did felt...forced. Every time he would notice something off, the evidence of all the things she did around the house, for him, for the family, became more noticable. As though she tried to buy his forgiveness rather than actually fix the problems with their family.

He tried to confront her about it again, ask if she had talked to dad. She had yelled and complained and blamed him for wanting to hurt the family. And that was when she offered to give him his allowance back.

Blood Money. Judas. The words echoed in his head, some remnant of some Sunday school lesson that had faded over the years, as he tucked the stack of bills into his wallet.

He didn't know who it was that he betrayed by making this deal...his father, himself, maybe even his mother...but he knew it wasn't right.

So he kept it all inside. Ignored it and let it fester. Kept his mouth shut.

Until now.

Steve looked around the yard, at the big house and the pool, at "Steve" leant out of the window with his good looks and expensive pajamas. He thought about his dad at the dealership, working hard to give this all to them. And finally looked at his mother, who made sure everything looked pristine, only for it all to be festering and rotten just below the surface.

He might have towered over her but couldn't feel any smaller as she glared at him. Glared at "Eddie."

"I, uh," Steve cleared his throat and held his hands out to show that he wasn't doing any harm. "I just came by to talk to Ed--Steve! To talk to Steve."

"So you ding dong ditch and then you trespass into my yard?" Her brow raised in disbelief.

"It's cuz I knew you weren't gonna let me in," he explained.

"If I won't let you in, that means you shouldn't be on my property. Period." his mom sneered at him. "I know you, Eddie Munson; you spray painted my car a few months ago."

Steve glanced up at Eddie, and Eddie simply shrugged as though he hadn't been the one to do it. Which was funny, because in actuality...it had been Steve who maybe had gotten a bit too creative after one too many beers at Heather Holloway's Back to School kegger.

"So what if I did!" Steve shrugged, technically owning up to it.

"That's enough for me to call Chief Hopper right now!" she shrieked, and Steve could see her practically vibrating.

Steve knew that calling the police was sort of his mom's MO. But he wasn't phased.

Probably because he was in Eddie's body and not his own. But maybe it was because he was in Eddie's body that he also felt a bit of courage building.

"You're really going to call the cops on your son's friend?" Steve laughed at her.

"My son wouldn't hang around someone like you."

"Oh yeah? Tell her about Hellfire Club, Stevie! Or how you've been coming to Corroded Coffin shows!" Steve called up to Eddie, whose eyes went wide as he was put on the spot.

"Steven!" his mother turned and glared at Eddie now. "Is this true?"

Eddie stammered and glared at Steve, who didn't give him the chance to respond.

"What? You're surprised that your precious son would want to spend time with a drug dealing, no good, piece of trailer trash?" He practically quoted his mother word for word, having recalled the few times she had encountered Eddie out in Hawkins.

His mom spun around to face him, but he continued.

"Come on, Mare, you don't think that I could be a worse influence on him than you are. With your lying and canoodling with Larry." His voice went falsetto. "Oh Larry, you know how to make a girl feel like she's 20 again. Barf."

"How do you know about that?"

"You're bribing and manipulating your son, you're ruining your family, and on top of that, you're a huge bitch."

Steve felt the weight on his shoulders get lighter with each word that escaped his mouth. He also saw his mother's anger start manifesting physically. She was turning red, shaking, breathing heavily. He knew that he needed to make his escape before she really did call the cops. Or hit him with a shovel or something.

"Wayne's sick," Steve called up to Eddie and Eddie's eyes went wide.

"Who's Wayne? Is that another one of your little drug dealer friends? Get out of my yard. Get off my property!"

As Steve ran from his parents' backyard and away from his screaming mother, his mind raced. He knew he shouldn't lie to Eddie but...desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed to get Eddie alone so they could talk, reconcile what happened. So he could convince him that this...that this was exactly what they needed.

He knew that he needed to rally the troops if he was going to fix what he broke.

It took hours for Eddie to get out of the house.

As soon as Wayne's name had left Steve's mouth, he felt like he was doused in ice water. Every nerve was on fire, his body itched to leave and it was unfair that he had to be subjected to Mary's tirade as soon as Steve had run and Mary returned to the house.

All he wanted was to get into the car and race to Forest Hills to see his uncle, but instead, he had to listen to her speech about dangerous criminals and vandals and making better life choices. She even tried to lecture him about taking classes at the community college to get away from the deadbeats who hung around Family Video.

Jesus Christ, lady, way to kick a man while he's down.

Once she was done with her lecture, she marched him straight back to bed so he could get the rest he needed.

Eddie knew he'd have to make a miraculous escape and he waited and waited for Mary to settle in the living room or get on the phone or something. His mind raced in the meantime as he thought of all the ways that Wayne might be sick.

Was he sick sick? He'd been sick a grand total of once in Eddie's life, in 79, when a nasty flu bug swept through the whole town. He remembered wishing that he knew how to make soup other than from the can, but when he'd brought Wayne the bowl of microwaved Campbell's, the look of pride on his uncle's face was enough to relieve him of his guilt.

Maybe he'd gotten hurt at the plant? He always made fun of his uncle's age, calling him old timer and geezer and whatnot, but he was getting older and he needed better glasses than the readers he got off the little revolving rack in Melvalds. Maybe he cut himself...or needed stitches. Or threw his back out?

Eddie thought back to his initial idea of getting him a job at the Harrington's dealership, something he never acted on and suddenly felt dread that whatever fate had befallen Wayne had only happened because he hadn't acted fast enough.

Hours passed by and he waited. Mary had brought him a grilled cheese with the crusts cut off, she'd done several loads of laundry, and even ushered him into the bathroom to take a shower. But before he knew it, she had ducked her head into his room.

"Stevie, are you feeling ok?" she asked gently. "I need to run out for a little while. Run a few errands."

Eddie glanced out the window, at the way the sky darkened, and then back at Mary who was dressed a little too nicely for errands.

Nice to know she's going to knock boots with Mayor Douchebag while her son is sick.

"Ok mom," Eddie forced a smile. "Be...safe."

"There's more soup in the fridge, if you want any more while I'm gone."

"Sure."

She turned and left without so much as an I love you, and as soon as Eddie heard her car peel out of the driveway, he was on his feet. He threw on a pair of jeans and one of the t-shirts he had gotten with you the day before, and then ran down the stairs.

"Fuck, she took my keys?" he groaned as he noticed the little bowl on the table in the hallway was conspicuously empty. "Well, bad news that her son is actually a criminal drug dealer deadbeat vandal who knows how to Hotwire a car."

Eddie found tools in the dusty toolbox in the garage, and then strolled out to Steve's BMW. It was a shame that he would cause damage to the vehicle--it had been a nice change from his van, even though he missed the van immensely--but desperate times. He struggled for a moment, the imported car a little trickier than the clunkier Chevys and Fords his dad had taught him on, but he got it in the end.

For the first time in his life, he was a little thankful to his father for giving him some kind of skill, as unsavory as it might have been. Because if he didn't have it, there would be no way for him to see Wayne right now.

Maybe being Eddie Munson wasn't such a bad thing after all.

He pulled into the trailer park and the car skidded to a stop beside the van. Even Wayne's car wasn't here, which meant that Steve probably had to pick Wayne up from the plant.

Or the hospital.

He jogged up the steps and threw open the door...

"What the fuck?" Eddie exclaimed.

...only to find Steve, Robin, Lucas, Dustin, and Will sitting around the living room with notebooks and homework and DnD mini figs. The TV was on, the volume down low, with a stack of videos piled in front of it, and there were cans of soda on every available surface.

"Took you long enough," Dustin announced and rolled his eyes. The other kids started chiming in.

"We started working on homework when you didn't show up right away."

"And Mike's birthday campaign."

"It's been hours!" Robin exclaimed. "Keith is gonna have my ass too, I called off, and you called off too. Which means he's working open to close. And you know how he hates that. Er...um...well one of you knows." Robin glanced back and forth between Eddie and Steve.

Eddie looked around again. The trailer was cleaned, he could hear a load of laundry clunking around in the washing machine, there was a stack of frozen pizzas laid out on the counter in the kitchen, one in the oven making the trailer smell enticing.

But no Wayne.

They tricked him.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on here?" Eddie asked, then zeroed in on Steve. "You lied to me. You used my uncle as bait and you lied to me."

"I'm sorry, I had to," Steve got to his feet and sighed. "You weren't listening to me...and then my mom..."

"You lied to me to get me to come over for some kind of pizza party? I didn't know you were that desperate for friends, Harrington," Eddie asked incredulously.

"No!" Robin interjected. "He lied because the two of you need to settle this once and for all. You haven't been entirely truthful about this whole situation either, Eddie."

"What do you mean? I've told you everything."

"Not everything." Steve pulled a spiral notebook off the coffee table and threw it at him. Eddie's stomach dropped as he realized what he caught. "Open it."

"I don't have to do shit," Eddie feigned anger and threw the notebook over his shoulder.

"No, because you already know what's in it," Steve jeered. "You have a crush on my girlfriend and you've been using this to your advantage this whole time. Don't look at the kids, they already know. I told them." Eddie had glanced at Dustin, Lucas, and Will, half expecting to see betrayal or deception in their eyes, but they looked sympathetic.

"Listen," Steve went on. "I know how it feels to have a crush on someone and think that you don't stand a chance with them. We all do." He gestured at the others, and they all nodded.

Eddie felt uncomfortable under their heavy stares, and it sent his skin crawling.

He knew that he wasn't alone in having a crush on someone; unrequited love had a definition for a reason. He didn't understand why they wanted him here? Why were they confronting him like this? Did they blame him for the spell? He already knew it was his fault.

"So what? Why am I here, Harrington?" Eddie finally asked.

"To work it out once and for all!" Will explained. "There's only two options here."

"There was more to the riddle," Lucas elaborated. "More than just the translation."

"You both want to be with someone that...otherwise wouldn't want to be with you," Robin continued. "The real you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better about myself, Buckley?" Eddie sneered at her.

"Leave Robin alone," Steve sighed. "She's the one who figured this all out. The prize...reflected in another's eyes...when I saw that notebook I thought that it was...something tangible. Popularity, or...or...friends...or a girl. But the real thing is love."

"Yeah, Selfless Love," Eddie shrugged. "Selfless love will change you back. What about it?"

"But in order to love selflessly, you have to love yourself first. And even if you find it hard to believe, both you and Steve...struggled with that. You thought...you couldn't be loved by the person you wanted the most. You didn't have the kind of life the other had. The love you thought the other had," Robin offered.

"So...there's really only two ways about this." She continued. "We all work together to help you two to learn to love yourselves. It's gonna take some time, because you clearly still hate yourself Eddie, and Steve...yeah he's not gonna admit to it because he's shallow--sorry Steve--but...he struggles to love himself because everyone else leaves him. Shut up Steve, you know I'm right.

"Or... you suck it up and deal with it. Steve stays Eddie, and he shoots his shot with Nancy. And you stay Steve, and you get to keep your honey. And honestly, this needs to be the outcome if we can't get you to change back with the self love thing.

"But it means that the two of you need to work together," Robin concluded. "Because it isn't gonna be easy."

"I'm willing to try if you are." Steve held out his hand to shake. "I mean...it's a win win no matter how you slice it."

Eddie stared at Steve's offered hand and then at all the others' open faces.

He was...touched that they were all here and willing to help. He truly was. And he knew that it was a gesture of good faith from Steve, trying to work together. They'd almost become friends the past few weeks, trying to solve this situation...what he had told Mary earlier had been true. Hell...Eddie was almost proud of Steve for standing up to her the way he did.

But to accept that offer meant that there was nothing to lose. And Eddie had already lost himself.

"Fuck you," he swatted Steve's hand away with his own. "I'm not shaking to that."

There was a collective commotion of "what's" and "why's" from everyone and Steve looked lost.

"What's your deal?" Steve asked.

"What's my deal? What's your deal?" Eddie laughed. "You think I'm gonna believe that you want to help me love myself, when just the other night you listed off every reason under the sun that I'm not worthy of love or friends, and that I would live and die alone. Yeah, real great act there, Harrington."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Eddie.

"So you don't want to be me and you don't want to be you, then who do you want to be?"

"I didn't say I didn't want to be me, I just said you're fooling yourself if you think I'm gonna let you help me want to be me. Besides, don't you think it's still a little too convenient that it's only a win-win for you?"

"How is it not also a win for you?" Steve questioned. "You either get your life back or you get the girl of your dreams. Same for me."

"What if I want both."

"Then I say you're the one being selfish here."

"Come on guys," Dustin sighed. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything. You need to come to an agreement and--"

"No, th-th-there's...there's nothing to agree on!" Eddie stammered. "Except the only thing there is to agree on. You can't always get what you want, right? Isn't that the way the song goes? Rolling Stones? We're trying to make a deal to find a way to make the best of either situation, but neither of us is gonna be fully happy in any scenario. I learn to love myself and what? The girl I love doesn't love me either, so what's the point? You get the girl you want, but you need to live with the fact that she doesn't love you.

"But could you live with yourself day in and day out if she looked at you with love in her eyes and didn't see you for who you truly were? If she believed you were someone else. Could you live with that Steve? Could you live with Nancy Wheeler screaming out my name as you make love to her?"

Robin and the kids all started groaning and making gagging noises at the last sentence, but Eddie knew he hit a nerve in Steve as he had the decency to look a little sad.

"Don't you see I love her, but she doesn't love me. And she never will. So if I had to choose, no...I don't want to be Steve Harrington anymore, I want to be Eddie Munson again, because even if she never loved me, I wouldn't have to be face to face with the fact that she loved someone else, every day, for the rest of my life."

Eddie finished his shouting and his shoulders heaved with his labored breath, and as he realized what he just said, he turned on his heel to get to the door.

He didn't want to run away from this, but he felt like he had no choice but to run. This had been a mistake. He should have left as soon as he realized that Wayne wasn't sick. Back to the Harrington's where he could suffer in silence until he was ready to face the reality of being stuck in Steve's body.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve shouted and jumped across the living room to stop him, as Eddie's hand turned the knob. "You can't just lea--"

Eddie was about to turn and start yelling at Steve--he couldn't tell him what he could and couldn't do--but as the door to the trailer swung open, both he and Steve realized that someone was there.

You were standing on the other side and they didn't know how much you had heard.

It really was the longest Sunday at work that you had ever faced. Each minute was an eternity, and each break that you had went by too fast. You sat by the kitchen door to call home, and Benny would watch you with a critical eye as you asked your mother if there were any messages for you--there weren't.

Your mom knew there was something wrong by the tone of your voice...but she knew your breaks were precious and not to take them up with her questions.

"I'll be home a little late tonight," you warned her.

"You ok?" she asked.

"Yeah...just...going over by Steve's for a little, I think."

"Ok Honey. Have fun. Tell him I said hi."

But you wouldn't...at least...you thought you wouldn't as you drove your car towards Forest Hills Trailer park after work so you could talk to Eddie.

Imagine your surprise as you pulled up to the trailer with the obvious green and white van out front...only to also find Steve's burgundy BMW parked next to it.

Fear gripped you, and you debated...well, you debated just leaving. Cut your losses and run, because they had to be in there...obviously talking about you.

But looking further past the two vehicles you saw a handful of bicycles leant against the side of the trailer.

So maybe it would be safe...if they were having a Hellfire meeting or something.

You parked your car and slapped your face, gave yourself the pep talk of the century.

He's in there and Eddie's also in there and their friends. And you're gonna walk up there and act completely normal, say that you came by to see Eddie but...oh, Steve what a surprise, you were trying to call him but he must have been here all day.

Yeah that was it. Perfect. You just had to get out of the car and say it.

The air was thick with the sludge of your nervousness, and its viscosity grabbed and pulled at you with each step toward the door you took.

You could hear the voices even before you got to the door, the variations in the timber of Steve and Eddie's voices vibrated through the wooden walls and vinyl siding. And it wasn't until you pulled open the storm door to knock that you really heard what they said.

"The girl I love doesn't love me either, so what's the point? You get the girl you want, but you need to live with the fact that she doesn't love you." The sound of Steve's voice made your heart plummet.

Nancy. They had to be talking about Nancy. He still loved her.

No wonder he was so quick to run when you said his name. He pretended you were Nancy all the way up until then.

"But could you live with yourself day in and day out," Steve continued. "If she looked at you with love in her eyes and didn't see you for who you truly were? If she believed you were someone else. Could you live with that Steve?"

Wait...Steve? But...but that was Steve who was talking. What...what was happening.

You kept listening and as Steve kept talking, as you heard other voices chime in to try and stop him, and as he got louder and closer, you got more and more confused,

"So if I had to choose, no...I don't want to be Steve Harrington anymore, I want to be Eddie Munson again." Again. "Because even if she never loved me, I wouldn't have to be face to face with the fact that she loved someone else, every day, for the rest of my life."

"Eddie, wait!" And that was Eddie's voice.

Eddie called Steve...Eddie, just like he did that day way back when...the day he showed up at Family Video. The day that you had that date with Steve, when he changed your mind about breaking up with him.

And Steve was claiming...that he didn't want to be Steve anymore...that he wanted to be Eddie again. But if he wanted to be Eddie again...that meant he had to be Eddie at some point in the past...right?

Time slowed down and you got dizzy as you tried to make heads or tails of it all.

The dates and the kisses and the cologne and the chewing gum.

All of the times that you wished you knew what it was like to be with Eddie, when you were held so tenderly in Steve's arms.

The music and the declarations and the...the Nancy of it all.

You had thought vaguely last night that it almost seemed like they had traded places...but that was impossible.

"You're not...what I expected Steve Harrington to be like," you muttered. "You're so much better."

"Of course I'm better, it's because I'm..." He faltered for a moment.

It's because Steve was Ed--

The door to the trailer swung open and you stood in wide-eyed shock as you came face to face with Steve and Eddie.

Or...Eddie and Steve.

"Honey," they muttered simultaneously and you couldn't help the step you took back, the way your foot faltered on the steps of the small porch. You tumbled down the few steps and caught yourself on your hands, only for them and your knees to get ripped up by the gravel of the drive.

"Shit!"

"Is she ok?"

Two sets of footsteps came thundering down the porch steps and hands grasped at your arms to get you back to your feet.

"Honey, look at me, are you ok?" Steve--Eddie--cupped your face in his hands and turned you to him. He looked down at your hands and winced at the scratches. "Shit, we need to clean you up."

Meanwhile Eddie--Steve--talked over him.

"What did you hear? How much? You can't say anything, you can't tell anybody. They wouldn't believe you. They'd think you're nuts."

"Good job Harrington, can't you see she's hurt."

"She heard everything, Munson. God. We need to be proactive about this."

"Guys!" A voice came from the trailer door and you looked over to see Robin and a bunch of Steve's...Eddie's...someone's freshman friends standing behind her. Both of the boys continued bickering back and forth until Robin yelled again. "Shut the fuck up!"

Everything went silent except for the ringing in your ears.

You did the only thing you could do...

Your thoughts went a mile a minute as you revisited the epiphany you just had. And you couldn't believe how much sense it made. That it was Steve who touched you and kissed you and loved you. But underneath it all was Eddie.

...you turned on your heel and ran.

Eddie's heart clenched as you pushed his hands away from you, and you ran.

Well...ran was a generous term. You hobbled and skipped, the deep scratches and cuts on your skinned knees prevented you from gaining the speed you probably wanted. And it was all he could do not to go after you.

You heard. How much of it? Everything? How long had you been out there? You had to know now. You'd never look at him again.

It hurt, cut him so deep that it practically stopped his heart in his chest.

He knew that this was inevitable, had come to this conclusion that he would lose you...shit before he even had you. Everything in between then and now would just be a beautiful memory that he could take with him for the rest of his days.

"Well aren't you gonna go after her?" Robin called from her place at the door.

Eddie looked over at Steve, who looked right back at him.

"She means you," they said in tandem.

"Me?" Steve exclaimed. "Why me?"

"That's your girlfriend," Eddie said, as though it was the most obvious thing on earth.

"No," Steve laughed. "That's your girlfriend. And on top of that, you love her, so you need to fix this."

Eddie was speechless as Steve went and sat on one of the steps. He fished a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his vest and lit one up. Eddie rolled his eyes and looked back up at Robin and the kids.

"Go!" They all yelled at him. Eddie scrambled and started in the direction you ran, shaking his head softly as he heard them all turn on Steve with an "are you an idiot?"

He knew the way you ran. This was his home turf, even if he hadn't been here for a few weeks. He would always know this worn, dirt footpath that led to the gazebo out beyond the last trailer in the park. There used to be a jungle gym and swings out there...he had sat on those swings for hours after he heard news of his mom's death.

It was a good place to cry.

And Eddie half-expected you to be there crying, especially as he saw you, perched up on the bench with your face in your hands.

"Honey?" Your shoulders went rigid as he spoke, and he stopped in his tracks. "Hey it's me. Are you...ok? Can we talk?"

"Me who?" you asked softly, the fragility in your tone enough to make him pause. "Please...I need an answer, who am I talking to? Steve? Or Eddie?"

"Eddie," he said, clearly and confidently, knowing that this was it.

Your shoulders started shaking and he could hear vague whimpers coming from you. He couldn't hold himself back, he shuffled over to you, stood directly in front of you with his hands on your shoulders as you cried.

"I'm sorry," he began. The words flooded his mind: apologies, excuses, declarations of his emotions. He could barely contain one leak before another sprung. "I'm sorry I lied to you, I'm sorry I kept it a secret. It's just that it was so...unbelievable, so impossible, that I knew there was no way I could tell you without you thinking I was crazy.

"And before I knew it, it was too late, and we were dating. I was dating you for Steve but I was also...I was dating you for me because I've...I've had this stupid crush on you for years. Can you believe it? Years! And I never...I never thought I was good enough for you. But I was so...so angry because Steve wasn't good enough for you either. He's an idiot. Imagine my surprise, my luck the day I woke up and I was Steve...and I got to take you out on some date and finally...finally get to show you how much I cared. How I felt...

"But it wasn't right to have lied to you. To...to touch you and kiss you when you didn't know it was me. We all kept it a secret. Me, Steve, the kids, Robin. We all could have come clean at any time, but we figured we could fix it before then and now...now we might be stuck this way forever so please, please, I need...

"I don't need anything actually. There's nothing I can do to make this right. I can't ask anything of you, except to listen to me and believe that I never meant to hurt you throughout any of this. There were no tricks, no...well I guess there were lies. But I never pretended to care for you. Everything I said and did...it was real. And I don't blame you if you hate me, or if you never want to see me again, I just need to know...I need to know that you're alright.

"So please Honey," he ran his thumbs soothingly back and forth over your shoulders. "Please look at me and tell me...tell me you're at least ok and if you want me to leave you alone, I'll leave you alone forever. Just please. I need to know you're ok."

Your shoulders kept shaking and although Eddie's heart practically disintegrated in his chest, he felt...lighter. Something had shifted. Everything was out there, the truth. He didn't have to hide from you anymore, pretend that he was something he wasn't. All that was left was for you to tell him to fuck off...

When you peeled your hands away from your face and looked at him, though, you had tears of laughter in your eyes and a manic smile on your face.

"You..." you hiccuped through a giggle. "You're...you're Eddie Munson and you love me?"

"What?" he asked in disbelief, not entirely sure that he heard you right.

"You...you're Eddie Munson," you poked a finger into his chest. "In Steve Harrington's body."

"Yes."

"And you, Eddie Munson, love me?" you questioned. Eddie froze and you continued. "Don't act like I didn't hear....everything you said. You said...you said...you loved me but I would never love you back. But..."

You grabbed onto the front of his shirt and shook him, wincing as the rough fabric scraped against your torn up palms.

"I told Eddie...I told Steve...that I had a crush on you, Eddie Munson," you shook him and looked up into his eyes with a smile. You had...a crush on him and you told...Steve? "And he just said--"

"When?" Eddie interrupted you.

"In High school."

"No, when did you tell Steve?"

"Uh...last week? I don't...the...the night you came in with Corroded Coffin," you closed your eyes and shook your head. "And Steve...you...I'm sorry, it's really confusing."

"I know, imagine how I feel," Eddie chuckled.

"I told 'Eddie' that I had a crush on him in high school," you explained. "I told him and he acted like it wasn't anything to blink at. Like he didn't even remember I existed. And I felt so crazy, so hurt, that I went home and I tore up my diary because I never even thought you...that he...that..."

You rambled about thinking about him and smelling his cologne, noticing his chewing gum, and thinking about him when you kissed Steve--when you kissed him--and Eddie felt all the pain that he had, all the insecurity he had for the past 24 hours, melt away.

All the light in the universe--the burning of an infinity of stars--couldn't compare to the way his heart was shining right at that moment.

You didn't want Steve. You wanted Eddie.

"...and you ran away and I thought...but you..."

Eddie didn't let you finish your thoughts, he smashed his lips to yours and kissed you with bruising intensity.

The way he felt outdid any high he'd ever had.

He kissed you until you both needed air, then dropped little pecks around your face until you directed him back to your lips.

"You love me," you muttered against his lips.

"I love you," he nodded.

And then you said the one thing that he had wished to hear come from your lips for weeks, months, years.

"I love you too."

As soon as Eddie was out of sight, Robin and the kids were on top of Steve, yelling at him and swatting at him.

"Are you kidding me?" Robin shrieked.

"What?" Steve howled.

"You need to go after them too," Dustin tried to reason with him. "She's hurt and she's crying. This entire thing is a disaster."

"She's not my girlfriend! OW!" Robin had slugged him hard in the shoulder. First a black eye now a bruised shoulder. Great. "Ok, why do I need to go?"

"Because whether or not she's your girlfriend, you and Eddie both dragged her into this mess. So you both need to explain it to her," Will explained.

Steve sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled and threw the cigarette to the ground.

As he followed after you and Eddie, he sighed and wondered how this was all gonna play out. Why you hadn't just gotten into your car and driven away if you knew the truth. If you thought they were insane.

You could have made a fortune, told the newspaper.

If you told the newspaper though...that meant Nancy would find out eventually.

Nancy...

Steve reflected on everything that Eddie had said. He knew, now, that it was all in the context of you. That Eddie loved you...

So then why didn't he say anything? Steve...would have understood...or tried to at the very least. Right? And what Eddie had said made some sense to Steve.

"Could you live with yourself day in and day out if she looked at you with love in her eyes and didn't see you for who you truly were?"

But who was he? He was just...Steve. He could talk about his parents and his time at Hawkins High...all the sports he played and friends he made. Nancy hadn't wanted Steve anymore, hadn't wanted that life.

But was that even his life anymore? He had less now than he had before. His parents were broken, their family in shambles. His friends had left him and laughed at him. Hell, even the admissions essay Nancy had helped him write once upon a time hadn't gotten him into a college; he just...worked at family video.

What could he offer her as Steve? Shit, did he even have anything to offer himself?

"If she believed you were someone else. Could you live with that Steve?"

What did Eddie have though? He had a band and friends and carefree fun.

But Steve learned over the last few weeks that it wasn't as carefree as he thought.

Shit, even Eddie living his life wasn't as carefree as one would assume. What could Eddie give to Nancy? What could Steve as Eddie give to Nancy? Yeah he enjoyed nights out with Corroded Coffin but...he didn't even play his own guitar. Eddie did. And he was enjoying Hellfire Club but...well, the kids and Eddie really helped him with the DM role. Maybe he would like it better if he was one of the players instead of the leader of the whole show.

What the hell was Steve? But no one? Would anyone even care if he was gone?

But he loved Robin, she was his best friend. And he loved the kids as though they were his own siblings. They all had done so much for Eddie...and for him the last few weeks. They put themselves at risk of being accused of...witchcraft and hysteria...they subjected themselves to his and Eddie's anger when they were at each other's throats.

They had plenty of opportunity to leave them both behind--to leave Steve behind--but they didn't.

"Could you live with Nancy Wheeler screaming out my name as you make love to her?"

Make Love. Love. That was really all Steve had to give Nancy anymore. And all he really wanted in return. Could he be happy knowing that she loved someone else and not him? Not Steve Harrington?

Fuck, she was doing that now with Jonathan Byers.

Steve saw you and Eddie huddled together at the gazebo, and as he got closer he heard what Eddie said to you. He felt those desperate words floating in the air.

"...But I never pretended to care for you. Everything I said and did...it was real. And I don't blame you if you hate me, or if you never want to see me again, I just need to know...I need to know that you're alright. So please Honey. Please look at me and tell me...tell me you're at least ok and if you want me to leave you alone, I'll leave you alone forever. Just please. I need to know."

Steve...froze in his tracks, and it was like a lightbulb switched on.

For as much as Eddie had just declared his love for you back at the trailer. He was willing to let it all go, let you go, as long as you were alright.

Eddie had done all of this, had caused this entire fiasco...because...because he thought that nobody loved him--because you didn't love him--just like Steve struggled to find people in his life who loved him. And Eddie was willing to walk away without love, so long as you were ok.

Steve thought about Nancy and Jonathan. About how happy they were...how they were alright, and making plans for the future together. More than Steve had ever really done with Nancy. He had his plans and she hers. He had his father's expectation to live up to and she had...ambition.

As much as it hurt...Steve knew...weedled and pushed deep down inside of his being that Nancy would never have been happy with him as she was with Jonathan. And sure...it hurt to see them together but...her smile. Her happiness. It still warmed his heart.

Because he loved her. He always would.

Steve watched as the two of you rambled and laughed and verbally tousled back and forth and he felt...lighter somehow. More awake and aware than he had been for weeks.

He didn't feel so stuck.

Selfless love.

Huh...so that's what it was.

Steve would have gotten closer, would have helped explain the situation to Eddie, but he knew Eddie had it under control.

Because despite their troubles and differences, despite all the shit that they had been through...something new was forming between Eddie and Steve. Friendship was a kind of love, and Steve wouldn't go and stick his foot in it to save his own face.

Steve turned on his heel and walked back to the trailer. Maybe not with...a new head on his shoulders, but definitely a new perspective.

Selfless love.

Steve woke up feeling...like he was sleeping on a cloud...although there was a heavy weight on his chest and his arm felt numb.

Was this Heaven? Was he dead? Had the stress of the past few weeks finally killed him?

He had returned to the trailer, to Robin and the kids, the night before, and shortly after, you and Eddie had trailed in after them looking...happier than you had been when you'd run off. Steve had been glad, if a little confused.

He'd put two and two together when he caught a glimpse of a soft kiss Eddie had pecked on your lips when you left...and he felt...embarassed for a second. To think that Eddie would have kept you warm for him for as long as you were in each other's bodies.

Man, maybe I am a douchebag.

The group of you had gone over plans to help Steve and Eddie achieve some self love, to help them get back in their bodies.

But now...well, if Steve was dead there was really no way that he was going to be able to enact those plans were there?

He briefly wondered, as he opened his eyes to a brilliant bright light, if Eddie would be able to get back into his body if he had died. Or if he would be stuck as Steve Harrington forever.

Steve blinked the cobwebs out of his eyes and frowned at the sight before him.

Plaid-papered walls and matching curtains that were thrown open and letting in all the early morning sunlight. A too soft bed that he had missed and you tucked into his side with the weight of you numbing his shoulder and his arm.

Huh? This didn't make any sense.

You groaned beside him and nuzzled your face into his shoulder. You muttered a quiet "guh morning Eddie" and scrunched up your face as you opened one bleary eye.

"Eddie?" he asked. And then it hit him. "Eddie!"

Steve jumped and pushed you off of him. He got to his feet and started running his hands over his body. Fluffy hair, toned chest, stubbly arms--ok so Eddie hadn't been shaving like he promised.

"What's wrong?" you asked, confused. "Is everything ok?"

"It's...it's me, I'm back!" Steve exclaimed. "I'm back!"

"Back?"

"It's me, it's Steve," he cheered and knelt on the bed. He grabbed your hand and pressed it into his hair, as though touching it would convince you somehow.

"What do you mean? I..." Recognition sparked in your eyes and you pushed him away from you. "If you're...does that mean he..." You scrambled to your feet, shoved your shoes on, and ran out of his bedroom.

Steve could hear a commotion outside the room between you and his mom, then the front door of the house squeaked open and slammed shut. Before long, his mom poked her head inside his room and tutted disapprovingly.

"Did that girl stay here all night Steven?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not the girl from the answering machine is it? I can't believe you--"

"Mom!" Steve stopped her and crossed the space between them. He looked down at her, truly for the first time in his life, and spoke clearly for the first time too. "You're so full of shit."

Eddie stirred awake and felt at peace.

Truly everything was working out in his favor.

He had a plan to get back in his own body, he had you, he had...something sharp digging into his shoulder, what the fuck?

He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, his fingers dug into his eyes and as he pulled them back...strands of hair came away with them. Long, tangled strands...unfamiliar...but familiar all the same.

But Steve didn't have...

Eddie really looked at his hands then, at the ring-clad fingers and the tattooed skin. His familiar bats and his puppet master that he had gotten last summer. He turned his head and saw the glowing red lights of his shitty K-mart alarm clock.

6:45

The screech of tires and a spray of gravel outside really made him aware of the world around him. The room was still somewhat dark... but bright sunlight shone in from the makeshift curtain. He stared at band posters and the Corroded Coffin banner he made back in 9th grade, and slowly the recognition set in.

He was home.

He was home, he was home, he was home. He pushed the hair out of his face and looked at his arms, his body, his bed. He pulled the half-worn copy of Lord of the Rings out from under his pillow where it was sort of jutting into his shoulder and he kissed it.

"I'm Eddie Munson," he spoke out loud in his voice. He tried to lower the register, achieve his DM voice. "Eddie Munson."

There was a knock on a frantic door somewhere.

Wayne. No wait, it was still too early to be Wayne. He wouldn't be home until 8 when Eddie was already at school.

More recognition hit him.

"Fuck I have to go to scho--"

"Eddie I swear to god, if you don't open this door right now," your voice was faint, shouted from somewhere outside.

You. Your voice. He had fallen asleep beside you in Steve's bed...and now he was in his bed, in his body, and you were outside his door.

He kicked the blankets off of him, wincing as he saw that he was only in his boxers--thank fuck he was getting sick of tighty whiteys--and ran out to the door.

He stared at the living room, at the remnants of everyone being here the night before. Tidier than he would have left it, but Steve had promised to clean up. He vaguely wondered what else Steve had cleaned during his stay at Casa Munson.

"Eddie!"

"Shit," Eddie cursed and threw the door open, fully intent on being suave with his greeting, since he was back in his body. This would be his first chance to charm you as himself, after all. But as soon as you had your eyes on him, you threw your arms around his neck and planted a kiss right on his lips.

It was an entirely different sensation, kissing you as himself and not as Steve. You tasted...pretty much the same...maybe a little different. Tangier. Maybe a little...earthy but it wasn't even 7am yet and he doubted you brushed your teeth at Steve's.

Shit he hadn't brushed his teeth yet either.

But his nerves were immediately alight in a way that they never really got when he was Steve. And his blood rushed to mutually desired places much faster than it had in Steve's body too.

That was going to be weird, going through life comparing things to Steve again...in a different way. But...

"You're too busy thinking," you pulled away and smiled. "And not busy kissing me."

"Sorry Sweetheart," he chuckled. "Mystical body swapping does a whole lot on the mind. I got distracted."

"I'll forgive you," you pecked down his cheek to his neck and bit playfully. "Just this once."

"Your teeth feel sharper like this," Eddie noted aloud.

"It's because I'm biting you harder," you grinned against his skin. "Because I know you like me now so I'm not afraid to mess up."

"Not distracted thinking of someone else now either," he offered and felt you tense in his arms. The confidence in him faltered. "I'm sorry, Honey, I didn't mean--"

"No it's..." you pulled back from him and looked into his eyes. There was a glee there, one he hadn't expected to see. "I don't know. I guess it's all been wild and unexpected and 24 hours ago...I thought I was gonna lose...you forever...and now I have you."

"You have me," Eddie promised. "For as long as you want me."

"Never gonna stop."

"No?" he asked in a tease. "Not even if I...swapped bodies with old Ted Wheeler or something."

"Uh..." you wrinkled your nose and glared at him. "Eddie I don't know if you're intentionally killing the mood here but...I mean if you're trying to ask me if I would fuck Mr. Wheeler even if he was actually you, the answer is a hard no."

"But you'd fuck me?" he asked smugly.

"I'm sincerely trying to," you laughed. "I don't think you were this chatty as Steve."

"I am pretty talkative. Don't worry, I have other uses for my mouth, but first things first, I need your clothes off Honey."

He ushered you back to his room and his fingers pinched and plucked at your work uniform as you went. You still had it on from your shift the day before, and it was now wrinkled from sleep, and Eddie vaguely wondered how comfortable it was, but you eagerly pulled it off you as you set foot into his room and he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Not sure how clean the sheets are," he stepped close to you and cupped your face in his hands.

"It's ok."

"But I'm gonna take care of you Honey."

"As long as you don't run away again."

"I won't. I promise." He took your hand in his and pressed it against the bulge in his boxers, groaning at the spark of tension and pleasure. This was what he had been missing, the pleasure he felt in his own body, so familar and long-since-felt. "Feel how hard I am for you? Feel how much I love you?"

"You love me?" You asked.

"Are you always gonna ask if I love you?"

"I just gotta check. Make sure you didn't change your mind...or that...I don't know...that Steve didn't jump back into your body or something."

"Oh," he pushed you down onto his mattress and slid between your legs. He ground himself against you, the friction of your underwear making you both hiss in want. "I'll make you forget all about Steve Harrington by the time I'm done with you. You'll only remember my name."

He didn't play games, didn't waste time luxuriating in the details of you, when all he wanted was to take you to paradise again and again, and follow you, as quickly as possible.

Also because even if he did skip class with you today, his uncle would be home soon and he did not want this to be the way the two of you met.

He kissed down the length of your body and rid you of your underwear. He inhaled the heady scent of you, put his tongue on you the way he had on Saturday, and noted again that the taste of you was different. Better.

He could feel you holding back and he looked up at you smugly, resting his chin on the crest of your sex.

"What did I tell you? I want to hear you," he teased, and inched his fingers along the inside of your thighs. "You're beautiful you know...your pussy's so pretty. I didn't get to tell you that the other day. All of you, you're so...gorgeous and I can't believe you're all mine."

"Yeah?"

"You're all mine right?" He asked, kissing back down as his fingers spread your lips and he teased your clit with his middle finger. You whined. "Louder honey, you're all mine right."

"Yes." He sunk his fingers into you and he laved at you, lapping up whatever you gave him. The complex, sweet taste exploded on his tongue, and he pressed in further, further, crooked his fingers till you were panting. "Eddie."

He smirked and backed away slightly, looked up at you with hooded eyes. "Say it again. Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want."

"E-Eddie," you keened.

"Again," he sped up and started shifting against the bed, as he chased his own pleasure. "One more. I'll get you there sweetheart. I'll get you there you just have to ask."

"Eddie please!" He stroked with skilled fingers and used his thumb to rub your clit firmly. He watched as you came. Awed in the beauty of you as you twitched and leaked, luxuriated in the flutter of your cunt around his fingers, and basked in the crescendo of your moans.

All while he rutted quickly and wildly against the bed. He wasn't gonna last--he'd barely touched himself in Steve's body, and he knew Steve wasn't doing any routine upkeep in his--and before long his release spilled as he grunted and groaned. He couldn't help himself, he bit into the plush of your thigh, enough to earn another high pitched whine from you.

You both panted and came down from your highs. He'd kissed back up your body to your mouth, letting you take the affection that you needed with your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers threaded through his hair. He felt a tingle in his spine as your nails scratched against his scalp, and he knew it was a promise of more to come later, but he knew he needed to clean you up now.

He whispered sweet apologies as he left your side to get a washcloth from the bathroom, and then he cleaned you up first--paying close attention to the scrapes on your hands and knees, then the mix of his spit and your release between your legs. Then he took care of himself, slightly embarrassed as he rid himself of his stained boxers and revealed his rapidly softening cock to your curious gaze.

"Shit," he laughed and looked down himself and then back up into your eyes, so filled with affection. "You know something?"

"What?" you grinned at him, clearly feeding off his joy.

"Steve definitely has a weirder dick than me." You covered your face in your hands and cackled.

"I hate you!" you shouted, voice muffled.

"Noooo," he quickly flopped on the bed and pulled you to him. He peeled your hands back from your face and pressed a kiss to your lips. "You love me.

June 1986

This was it.

Eddie had never been so nervous in his life. Not the first time he performed with Corroded Coffin, or the first time he was the DM for Hellfire, not even the first time he kissed you.

This was the minute that his future would finally begin.

"Edward Munson," Principal Higgins' voice echoed across the football field. Eddie climbed the makeshift stage accompanied by a mix of cheers and applause (and boos from the douchebag jocks who had made his life miserable for the past 6 years).

He shook Higgins' hand and took his diploma, smiling nicely for the photographer that had set up right at the edge of the stage, and when he got a mischievous look on his face, Higgins sighed.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you Eddie," he warned.

"Come on, it's not like you can fail me now!" Eddie snarked and tucked the diploma under his arm, before flashing double birds at the older man. The sounds of the crowd grew louder--parents outraged, students amused--and as Eddie turned to extend the gesture to the crowd, he saw his little audience get to their feet and cheer harder.

Wayne who shook his head, forever amused at his boy's antics. Rick who, quite frankly, looked high as a kite. Gareth and Dave and Jeff's parents, who were there for him and Jeff. Steve and Dustin and Lucas--who had cheered for Robin, Jonathan, now for Eddie, and soon enough for Nancy. Will and Mike were with their families, but Eddie could still see them clapping enthusiastically.

And front and center, next to Wayne with the brightest smile and the loudest cheers, was you.

It was still weird, even after months of getting to be with you as Eddie instead of as Steve. Not bad weird. Better weird.

This was a moment he never imagined he would get to experience. Graduating high school, getting to know you and love you the way you did.

It still felt surreal, but as he ran off the stage amidst hooting and hollering of his classmates and the audience, he knew it was where he was meant to be.

Hours later, Eddie was surrounded by friends, family, and classmates in the Wheeler's backyard, celebrating the momentous occasion of high school graduation.

Wayne chatted with Ted Wheeler and Thomas Harrington, who had in fact offered Wayne a job at the dealership. Their kids newfound and unexpected friendship was a chance to actually talk with one another and Tom quickly realized that his new acquaintance was actually a skilled mechanic. While it took a little convincing on Eddie's part for Wayne to actually take the job, Wayne was actually grateful that it paid a little more and offered better hours than the plant.

Eddie's eyes narrowed as he watched Tom rub his ring finger nervously, the missing wedding ring obvious and awkward, especially amongst a big crowd like this. But no one dared say anything about the divorce or the fact that Mary had been seen around town with Mayor Kline. They didn't even ask Steve how his mother was doing. Everyone welcomed the Harringtons, glad they could make it to the celebration.

Guests milled about, the kids all chased each other around with water balloons, and too many overcooked hamburgers and hot dogs were consumed.

Eddie had his arm around you as you chatted with Nancy and Jonathan about plans for the future. You and Nancy had become fast friends, especially after Eddie returned back to his body and actually took advantage of Nancy's tutoring sessions.

There had been a moment, early on after the swap back into their own bodies, that Nancy had commented on the fact that you were dating Eddie...when she thought you had just been seeing Steve for weeks.

"I'm just worried about him," she confided in Eddie. "We didn't break up on the best terms. He'll always be my friend."

"I think he'll be ok," Eddie assured her. "The two of them are just friends. He doesn't have that many of those in Hawkins. You know, she convinced him to sign up for classes at the Tri County College in the fall?"

"No way," Nancy exclaimed. "I thought he was just gonna be stuck at Family Video for the rest of his life."

Eddie chuckled in recollection, remembering Nancy's disgusted face.

No, Steve wouldn't be stuck in Family Video forever, because Eddie had recently take a job there as an assistant manager to kill the extra time he had now that school was over and supplement that money from the additional gigs Corroded Coffin had earned over the summer.

It wasn't a record deal or a tour...just some local carnivals and fests...but it was a start.

And of course, there was you. With your unending affection and support and bright, shining personality. The you he got to know between high school and his...foray into Steve Harrington-ness only bloomed further under the gentle attentions of him and his love.

You told him things that you had never told him as Steve. You confided in him about your worries for the future, about your struggle balancing school and work, about your ideas and insecurities. And he did the same with you. It was a mutually fulfilling relationship, and one that was full of trust.

And the sex was one of the highpoint of his entire life so far. Not even his Warlock ranked quite as high on the list.

"Hey Eddie!" Dustin called to him and Eddie turned only to get hit in the face and doused with water from a rogue water balloon. He ran a hand over his eyes and did a dog-like shake to get the water from his hair. He glared at Dustin and Steve, who had thrown the precision shot and laughed heartily at his expense.

Douchebag.

Eddie sighed and looked around the party, at friends and family, at the kids, and you, and finally at Steve, who nodded in amicable understanding.

If he never saw Steve Harrington again...what would Eddie do? They'd experienced one of the...weirdest of things they'd ever experience in their lives. And it was something that inexplicably tied them together.

They were friends now.

Who'd have thought.

But, Stranger Things could've happened.

Thank you for reading. <3

#freaky friday au #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington angst #Eddie Munson fluff #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson stranger things #Steve Harrington stranger things

[burrrows]

Okay I had a thought. Joe x reader fluff with the song “Until I Found You” by Stephen Sanchez.

until i found you

ask and you shall receive... more loosely inspired than completely derived from the song?? which i hope you still like :p no warnings just a fluffy lil blurb, maybe a lil smidge of angst but that's all!

A warm breeze whips your hair across your face and you don't notice it, but Joe is watching across the yard with a small smile on his face as you laugh lightly and pick the loose strands out of your lip gloss. You seem so in your element, surrounded by your mutual friends and his teammates, laughing at someone's lame punch line, cheeks flushed pink from the heat and maybe one too many champagne flutes.

He gets this strange feeling in his chest, in his stomach, like he could scream or cry or collapse in the best way – this feeling that he always get just looking at you. Like he loves you so much that it could take him apart from the inside out.

In moments like these he always takes himself back to the start of his rookie year, that one cold night with the biggest snowstorm of the season when he let the chill in the air turn him cold, too. When he'd taken your sweet little heart into his hands and squeezed a little too tight, cracked it a little under too much pressure. He remembers exactly what he said to you that night.

"Date nights and holidays will be here. You will be here. My career won't."

He didn't mean it. And you'd never known your Joe to be malicious, conniving, or to hurt anything or anyone intentionally. But his implication that your relationship, that you weren't important to him at the time felt purposeful, like he was truly trying to hurt you.

He had let you slip out of his fingers, the stupidest fumble he'd made in the entirety of his football career, in the entirety of his life. He'd let you go, but he'd quickly found out how impossible it was for him to even function knowing he wouldn't be coming home to texts and calls and your touch.

The following month he'd show up at your doorstep equipped with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and an extensive apology alongside a thought-through pitch for you to take him back, a request to let him love you again.

Letting you go then, to this day, was the stupidest decision he'd ever made, and he never let himself forget it. Especially now, watching the way you threw your head back with that smile on your face at something Hubbard said (and it couldn't have been that funny).

A firm hand comes down on his shoulder and startles him out of his thoughts, pulls him into attention at the rest of his surroundings again. He recognizes the hand as Ja'Marr's when he takes a glance, and he's handed a glass of his own.

"You already got the girl, brother. You gonna stand and watch over here like a creep or you gonna go enjoy what you got?"

Joe scoffs a laugh at his best friend, knocking back his champagne and handing the glass back to a cheeky Ja'Marr, who stalks back over to the team to snicker about how whipped their quarterback is.

You feel his arms around your waist before you feel his chest hit your back and his scent flood your senses. It's barely audible, but he lets out this little sigh, so chock full of content and comfort that your body melts into his on instinct.

He gets a whiff of your shampoo as you soften to his touch, and he feels so lovesick that he can't stop himself from turning you away from your friends to face him.

"Hey hotshot," you tease when your eyes meet his, toothy grin lighting up your face.

"Hello beautiful," he hums, leaning towards you to nudge the tip of your nose with his, hands firm on your waist as yours come to rest up on his broad shoulders.

He could let his eyes flutter closed and stand here with you, just like this, for the rest of his goddamn life. He could say fuck it to the team, fuck it to the NFL, to the entire sport of football to stand here with you.

But instead he feels you tip toe to press your lips to his and he feels his heart start to hammer in his chest when you pull him a little closer. His hands bunch up your cute little dress when he lets his grip tighten and he can feel his head swimming, thoughts getting lost as you move your lips with his.

He's ripped out of his state of grace when you detach your mouth from his, startled by a teammate, probably Ja'Marr, wolf whistling in the distance.

"Get a room!"

"Y'all gonna go at it right here?"

The boys won't stop hollering at the two of you, and you're laughing it off, this joyous little sound that Joe would almost be willing to let his team keep eliciting from you if it didn't mean he was missing out on kissing you silly.

He shoots them a pointed glare before shifting his gaze back to you, where your eyes meet and both of you soften to one another once again.

It's just a mumble, words spoken under his breath for only the two of you to hear, but the message rings as clear as if he was screaming it to the skyline, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"You know, even if we had met twenty years later, I wouldn't haven fallen in love until I met you."

#god the pic??? #why is he the most bf ever #i'm sick. #hdjsndjskxkkw #joe burrow #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fluff #lyd's blurbs

[yandere-romanticaa]

@animeyanderelover asked: In your opinion, which Haikyuu!! characters would be most capable of sharing a darling since you already talked a bit more in depth about Akaashi and Bokuto?

These are just a couple of that I came up with on the spot. If you have any ideas, please share!

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 - another pair which is like day and night. Much like the day and night cycle though, they work seamlessly with one another and need each other to cooperate properly. Wakatoshi keeps the peace while Tendou keeps you on your toes. Quite the package dare I say!

Tendou keeps you happy and entertained. Well, as much as he can without freaking you out but he always somehow manages to do just that in the end. Sometimes it is intentional, other times it is not. It's just that kind of effect Tendou has on people and he can't really help it. You either like him or you don't.

Ushiwaka is the stable pillar of peace with a sprinkle of need deep inside him. He's not as touchy as Tendou is but he wishes he was. He fantasizes about holding you but you are usually left in his friends care so he's not in the picture.

When he is, he is awkward. Imposing, but he doesn't mean to be.

That is where the eccentric red head steps in to help his buddy. Unlike Ushiwaka, he actually does have the capacity for some emotional intelligence. Ushiwaka meanwhile is on par with a celery stick, Tendou knows this.

And Tendou can't just let his poor buddy to suffer like that now, can he?

The two of them have a long talk and come to a mutual agreement to share you amongst themselves. It is hectic and messy at first, but they will make it work. Both of them are set up with success and not many will dare to challenge them. Not with Tendou's monstrous reputation and Ushiwaka's imposing person.

I'd rate them a 6/10 on the danger scale. There's potential there for a higher score but since no one in their right mind will come close to you, all should be well. Unfortunately for you though, there are two obsessed fools joined to you by the hip and are not leaving any time soon.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐘𝐀 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀 - these two are like two peas in a pod, it's only natural that they get to share you!!! Both of them are attracted to you like magnets and have the mentality of "sharing is caring, but only with you because you're my best buddy!"

They are intense and there is no other word to describe it better. Neither one is shy about their affections towards you and are not against throwing hands if someone starts getting a little too chummy with you (which is, almost anyone really...) and their presence is beyond suffocating.

A solid 7/10 on the danger scale simply because you won't have anymore room to breathe.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ This one is a bit of a shot in the dark and it has the potential to end up quite messily unless things are set straight from the get go. And who would that be?

Why, it is our beloved 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 - my my, what a predicament!

Oikawa is too clingy for his own good which, in turn, makes Iwa so mad that he could punch him. The way in which he's always slobbering all over you makes his blood boil but he would rather nail his tongue on a wall than ever admit that fact out loud.

Oikawa knows better though. He knows damn well that his dear friend is fantasizing about not only brutally murdering him but about you too, and how could he not? The way you cheer them both on when they're playing would make anyone swoon but your overall attitude is just so attractive to them both that they can't help but to fall for you.

Iwaizumi is more subtle with you than Oikawa, promptly focusing on whether or not you've eaten. You haven't? Here, have his lunch. No, he's not hungry, be quiet. Here, take his jacket. If you catch a cold he will scold you.

Oikawa on the other hand is a shameless little bastard because, why shouldn't he be? He absolutely revels in your reactions but is always careful to never cross any lines which could land him in hot water. He's just a naturally touchy guy, it's not weird how often he holds you.

Although, it is a little strange how all of your guy friends started to avoid you once you befriended the pair.

On a scale, I'd give them a 9/10. Yes, it's that bad. The combination of Iwaizumi's brash attitude and Oikawa's calculative nature and charm there is literally no one they won't stomp over if they cross you, or them for that matter.

There is also the added danger of them being both naturally jealous individuals, which clashes badly on quite a few occasions. Both of them want to keep you and can't come up with a proper solution sometimes which leads to the air becoming much heavier than it ought to.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere male