#so it is so one-sided in focus that it feels like you're supposed to flip the page and read the exact same scene from jayce's point of view

[kuromiisanton]

 ✩How NCT Dream lets you know they're in the mood✩

genre. Explicit / suggestive

warnings. !SMUTTY! Mentions of sexual intercourse. mentions of oral. palming oneself. grinding. manipulation(?). 

paring. Nct dream x fem!reader 

Mark

 He would definitely try and act as if he’s not in the mood. Just sitting there acting like nothings going on… at first. The longer he tries to act that he doesn’t need you, the more fidgety he would get. He would try and give you little hints; hand on your thigh rubbing back and forth, tiny kisses here and there, trying to attract your eyes to the growing bulge in his pants. Finally he gets so frustrated that you're not picking up on the hints that he finally just puts your hand on top of his crotch so you can feel how much he needs you and gives you a look full of lust and love.

Renjun

 He’s actually so sassy about it. Like he acts as if you did it to him on purpose (you lowkey highkey did). How were you supposed to know wearing the new jeans that fit you oh so perfectly would do this to him? He would stare at you for the longest time trying to get your attention so he can drag you away to a secluded place in the restaurant, but you just keep ignoring him and talking to your friends. He would go up and compliment you saying “darling, those jeans look really good on you.” and he would be so touchy; grabbing your waist, rubbing up and down. He eventually whispers to you how much he likes those new jeans on you and to come with him. “Flower, can you feel what you did to me?  Those jeans make me want to do so many things to you.” You and Renjun disappeared for a while after that.

Jeno

 Honestly this could go one or two ways. He would just outright tell you how much he wants you and would drag you to the bedroom or. He would get a little shy about it… after all you were only laying on the couch scrolling on your phone. He would get really cuddly and would kiss you so much. Like you would be cuddling on the couch and he would slowly start kissing your neck and eventually would start grinding his bulge on your ass. Groaning every once in a while from the friction until he gets more and more needy to where he flips you onto your back, slowly trailing his hands up and down your upper thigh until he finally cups your heat showing what he truly needs.

Haechan

 So whiny about it. Like there's not really a subtle way of him telling you he's in the mood… he would straight up walk up to you and grind his hardening length against your front side in the kitchen. He would whine and beg for you to come to bed with him to “cuddle”. He would be saying things like “please baby… I need you so bad, it hurts so much” and" baby, only you can make me feel good…only you can fix this”. He would start slowly massaging your boobs as he grinds into you and kissing your neck while moaning breathlessly into your ear. You would eventually let him take you to the bedroom for… cuddling.

Jaemin

 He’s a little devil about it. You would be working on papers for work when he gets that feeling. The feeling only you, his pretty little angel could fix… He would sit behind you on the couch watching you work hard on everything you need to finish for your deadlines. He would be manspreading behind you with the sweatpants you love on him so much and would slowly start palming himself over his sweats. He eventually lets quiet grunts and groans out of his lips and when you turn around he continues while telling you “no no angel, keep working. Focus.” he can start to see you rubbing your thighs together and sending glances towards him. That’s when he knows he has you where he wants you. 

Chenle

 Biggest tease out there. He would somehow manipulate you into thinking you were in the mood first??? like it was a simple makeout session occurring until he feels himself starting to grow hard beneath you. Like the  silver tongue he is, he would start saying things like  “Oh, does my baby need more?” “Do you deserve it? I thought you just wanted some kisses but you just can't help yourself can you?” literally gaslight, gatekeep, zhong chenle. He eventually gets you to where you start admitting how much you need to be touched and he knows that you are convinced you wanted him first, but little did you know that he needed you the moment he had seen you that night. 

Jisung

 Isn’t really sure how to make you realize he is in the mood. Should he just start kissing you? Does he show you he’s hard? Just outright tell you? He really doesn’t know… stares at you for a while hoping you will somehow get the message telepathically or something. When you realize he has been staring at you, you turn to him and smile. That smile made Jisung feel as if he was going to die if he couldn’t  taste you right then and there. You are still looking at him and smiling when he glances down towards the crotch of his pants where the growing bulge is visible from a mile away. He speaks in a whisper “please… I can't take it much longer. I need to taste you so bad” when he see’s you give him the green light he's immediately in front of your parted legs getting a hundred times harder than he originally was…

a/n: requests are open

©kuromiisanton, all rights reserved.

#nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #mark lee smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #Chenle smut #jisung smut #nct dream scenarios #𐙚florence posts

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀. ♥

:feat~ albedo, kaeya, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, alhaitham, kaveh x gn!reader:

⤷ sometimes, warm moments like these is what truly makes their love apparent.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

"May I... sketch you?"

ALBEDO's request is quiet - well-mannered as he's caught gazing at you with those deep turquoise eyes of his, holding a pencil aloft in one gloved hand.

"Go ahead." You let a smile cross your expression briefly, glancing up at him and letting your eyes meet. His stare is warm, contrasting to his usual blank expression that he wears so frequently. Your cheeks warm as his lips curve upwards into a gentle smile, and the quietest laugh escapes from his lips.

"Hm, if you keep looking at me with those eyes, I'm not sure if I'll be able to focus at all." His voice is playful, almost, before he flips to a new page in his sketchbook, which is set against his usual easel, and begins to draw.

And although only silence surrounds the two of you, occasionally accompanied by the gentle scratching of Albedo's sketching pencil moving across the paper, everything feels perfectly familiar.

Sunlight filters through the large windows, bathing the entire room in a cordial glow. From where you silently sit, you can feel your heart quicken at the sight of Albedo quietly standing, occasionally glancing at you with a diligent gaze.

It's clear that no words need to be shared between the two of you. The soft smile set on the male's face unmistakably says enough.

It's an expression that reads, "I love you." ♥

"Here, shall I order you another drink?"

KAEYA's voice seems to waltz in the thick air. Amongst the mixed chatter and low tones of the bar, his smooth one is something that stands out. His eye twinkles as he glances at you, slowly swirling the contents of his own glass with a distant amusement. "The night's just begun, after all."

"Ah, no thanks... I have work tomorrow." You sheepishly decline his offer, not wanting to wake up to a vicious hangover the next morning... which had happened the last time the two of you went out for drinks. It seemed that that was Kaeya's idea of "entertainment".

"Mm, very well. It's a pity, but I suppose I can't ignore your reasoning." With a short sigh and a loose shrug of his shoulders, he lets out a small laugh. "Ah, but since you won't be drinking any more, perhaps I'll make up for it?"

You don't understand his words... not until he takes the wine bottle off the table and downs it all with startling quickness.

"Kaeya!?"

"Ahaha... oh, maybe that wasn't such a great idea..." His body tips, his head lolling onto your shoulder with a drunken stupor. Kaeya holds his drink well, so it's certainly not everyday where you'll see the cavalry captain in such an intoxicated state. You can sense that something has changed in his gaze, from the way his interested gaze flicks up to your face from where he leans against your shoulder.

"Hm..." He mumbles it to himself, mostly, and it's something you're sure you weren't meant to hear, but you do.

"Haha... How could I be so lucky as to have you as my lover...?" ♥

"Love, are you tired? Come here."

ZHONGLI's expression is gentle, amber eyes warm as he lightly gestures to the space beside him. The evening air is cool, so his touch is inviting more than anything.

His gaze seems to melt as you sit beside him, body leaning against his. He's quick to move his arms, wrapping one around you, pulling you into the frame while the other stays by his side.

If you had glanced up at him then, you would've seen the gentle smile that spread across his features. Yet you didn't, and instead leaned into his warmth with a smile of your own.

Perhaps you're imagining it, but in the quiet of the night, you can almost hear Zhongli's heart beating alongside yours. Steadfast, strong. An unbreakable will.

And while you held such admiration for the male, he, in return, held such affection for you. You, the beacon of his attention and you, who had captured his heart obliviously.

Every second he spends with you is bliss - moments he will never take for granted.

Above you, Zhongli lets out a satisfied breath, running his fingers through your hair with an unimaginable delicateness. He stays there for a moment, musing to himself with twinkling golden eyes as he plays with your locks absentmindedly... although anyone who knows Zhongli is well aware that he is not one to be absent minded in any matter.

Ah, is he saying something? His words are quiet, so much so you can't hear them, but his lips move accordingly with every word.

"The day will come where we are not together, but until then, please, let me hold you for as long as it may last." ♥

"You can open your eyes now!"

CHILDE's game had been rather suspicious from the start - yet, the first thing you notice when you open your eyes is the glimmering excitement that seems to dance across his features. And while his amusement always had been somewhat plastic, some part of you knew that this enthusiasm was genuine. He takes your hands, his touch warm, and spins you around in a half-hug that seems to make you fly.

"Hey, do you like it?" His voice is higher-pitched - airy and hopeful.

Huh? Oh... he means-

You had meant to look at his surprise, but found yourself gazing distractedly at him instead. In his arms, he holds a bouquet of your favorite flowers, each and every bud fully in bloom, every petal pristine. How he got them to be so perfect, you might never know, but you can already feel a smile forming on your face.

A laugh escapes your lips as you throw your arms around the male, pulling yourself into his embrace. There's a moment of shock before he returns it, and you can see the way his own lips curve upwards.

His eyes are the same deep azure, void of light... and it'd likely be too much to hope that any sort of brightness would return to such, yet sometimes, in the late hours where you would be cuddled up beside him, there was no mistaking how his expression seemed to lighten at the sight of you.

"I love it." The words come out almost like a whisper, but the male hears it.

"And I love you." ♥

"Oh, were you waiting for me?"

AYATO's violet eyes seem to sparkle as he rounds the corner and spots you leaning against the wall, heedlessly standing there with a tentative air. "If you wanted to see me, you could've told one of my retainers... or, perhaps the thought hadn't crossed your mind in such haste?" There's a smirk on his face as he chuckles lightly.

"I just thought waiting for you would be faster." You pout, cheeks slightly flushed at his jesting.

Ah, there it was. The expression that had made him fall for you. The male can only laugh further. "Very well, then I suppose I'll have to indulge you then, correct?" He begins to walk down the hallway and gestures for you to follow suit. At the end of the corridor stands two armored guards, attentively glancing across the courtyard with weapon in hand. As the two of you cross them, they respectfully bow their heads.

"Commissioner Kamisato and esteemed guest, we greet you."

"Thank you." Ayato smiles, but it's one without warmth. "You are dismissed."

"...Pardon?" The first one seems dumbfounded, but the second seems to get the hint and tugs on the other's shoulder, leading them out of the area.

"Hm... now there are no prying eyes, let's talk, shall we?" He sits and you mimic his actions, watching with a flitting gaze as the Ayato himself stares at you, seemingly transfixed. "How have you been, love?" There's already two cups of hot tea set at the table, but somehow, he pulls a cup of boba from his sleeve instead.

And while you're telling him all about the day's occurrences, waving your hands about as you elaborate, you pause as you hear a quiet laugh emit from the male.

"Oh sorry, go on."

"You just look so beautiful right now... that I couldn't help but laugh at my good fortune." ♥

"Here, I made you this!"

THOMA beams warmly as he sets something on your head, a something that smells rather fragrant, like fresh vanilla. The blonde's smile is contagious, lethally so... from the way his spring eyes are glimmering excitedly, to the manner on how his expression brightened as soon as he had spotted you - everything about it, about him seemed to make your heart feel warm.

You glance up. Wind... Windwheel Asters? Weren't those the flowers from Mondstadt? Low and behold, there they were, stems intricately intertwined together, occasional leaves flourishing outwards as the heads delicately spin in the gentle breeze.

"A... A merchant came by and was selling some flowers from my hometown, so I thought..." Thoma's voice trails off as his face slowly grows redder. In a way, he's slightly ashamed. Perhaps he shouldn't have indulged in such a childish hobby, gifting you a flower crown? With the way your eyes have widened... do you dislike it-?

All those thoughts cease instantaneously as he feels something warm - your lips, pressed against his cheek as you give him a quick kiss. When you pull away, your happy expression is something that makes his eyes widen in surprise as he feels his heart soar.

"Ah, but now I feel bad..." You put a finger to your chin, pondering a thought. "You've given me such a priceless gift, yet I don't have a thing in return..." Instantly, Thoma is all over your slumped figure.

"Nono, please don't say that! You being here is the best gift I could wish for." ♥

"Are you done with this page yet?"

ALHAITHAM glances down at you. Your back is pressed against his chest, sitting in between his splayed legs comfortably as the male holds out his book for the both of you to read. As he breathes steadily, his chest rises and falls in a constant rhythm.

When you nod your head in approval, he flips the page, revealing the next. He's a fast reader, that much is apparent. You can't keep up with him, but he waits for you at the end of each and every one... and if he gets bored, he'll rest his chin on your head - or maybe even play with your hair, the slightest bit.

Sometimes, a distant part of you thought he reminded you of a cat.

But that was besides the point. The book isn't anything special - just more ancient Sumeru history, but the way Al Haitham is staring at every page so diligently would make one think that he's reading something incredibly riveting. You've seen that look before, now that you think about it. It's the certain type of gaze that you've caught Al Haitham using out of the corner of your eye. The type of stare that just spells out his infatuation.

You haven't even noticed that your eyelids have begun to flutter shut until the male's deep voice emits once more: "Are you tired?"

There's a faint smile on his face, an expression that one could easily miss. In your drowsiness, however, you still manage to catch it. "Mhm."

Silently he sets down his book, before placing a hand behind your head and pushing you closer. He closes his eyes, his breathing composed.

"If you're drowsy, get some rest... But stay here, would you?" ♥

"Darling, what... what are you doing here?"

KAVEH stands in the doorway, ruby eyes wide. His stance is stiff as he somewhat comes to his senses, whipping his head about in an almost comical manner. "Why are you here? Is he home??"

He sounds so anxious it's hard not to laugh. "I just wanted to see you, so..." Your words come out as more sheepish as intended, and you can see his harried expression lighten.

"You didn't talk to Al Haitham, did you?" There's a new edge in his voice, although his jitteriness has significantly eased since the start of the conversation. "And he didn't say anything weird to you, did he??"

Oh. The realization finally hits you. He's jealous, isn't he?

"No, not at all. I haven't even seen him, actually." A giggle manages to escape your lips, and Kaveh visibly brightens at your mood.

"Good. Then, should we get out of here before he decides to show up?" Kaveh opts to place his work things aside, leaving Murak on the table to fend for himself as he quickly piles his blueprints onto the coffee table, emptying the bundles in his arms. He takes your hand as soon as possible, his grip tight but comfortable.

As he tugs you along and out the door into the warm evening air, glancing back at you, his crimson eyes seem to shimmer.

"You're mine, and I won't ever let you forget that." ♥

(a/n) oops this took me much longer than it shouldve

#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon #favoniuslibrary #kaeya x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ayato x reader #thoma x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli #genshin childe #childe #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #kaveh #genshin impact kaveh #genshin kaveh #x reader #genshin oneshots #oneshots #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #reader insert #x gn reader

[toruro]

I REQUEST NASTY DIGUSTING SLIGHTLY WEIRD AND OFF PUTTING JIHOON SMUT THIS INSTANT

maybe like hate sex and they're really going at it and jihoon is kind of (really) a dick but the reader loves it and they're both possessive okay bye

or a/b/o

side by side

pairing. jihoon x reader tags. smut (18+ / minors dni), implied enemies & fwb au, bulge kink, creampie w/c. 1.4k (what the heck this wasn't supposed to be more than 500 words) a/n. ur targeting me bc i love mean men and this is only encouraging me

"say it again," he grunts from behind you, the words rumbling from deep in his throat. his voice is low and gravely, and the harshness of his tone has your stomach churning in a way that you don't want to unpack.

"missed this—" you choke out, body throttling as you brace yourself against the armrest of the sofa, shoving your face into the cushions. "missed it so-o-o much," you whine as jihoon's grip hardens on you. you're sure his knuckles are white, and you're even more sure that you'll have bruises all over in the morning.

"bet you did," he grunts, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust at the end, the skin on your ass burning at the contact. "missed my cock so much you had to hang off of soonyoung like a fucking pet to get my attention, huh?"

"'m sorry," you hiccup as jihoon's powerful snapping of his hips sends you deeper into the cushions. faced pressed into the sofa, your drool and tears staining the cloth. "'m so sorry," you try to repeat when he doesn't relent with his face, seemingly fucking into you harder as you gasp out the words.

there's something that burns behind his eyes when jihoon sees you like this; knowing that you can run your mouth all you want around your friends, being all coy with your deceivingly shy smiles and batting eyelashes, but at the end of the day he's the one who gets to see you like this.

this being the way your body seems to bend to jihoon's very touch (when he brushed a thumb against your bottom lip the first time and you swallowed him right in, swirling your thumb all over the finger), the way the only words you seem to know are a string of curses and his name ("ji-jihoon—ah, fuck ..."), the way you take everything he gives you.

who would've guessed that the person who couldn't seem to dislike jihoon enough was the same person crying under him every night. it enthralls him, how much power over you jihoon has.

(he ignores how every time you whine his name, he get's pushed closer and closer to his relief. he ignores how his heart melts just a little when you pull him down into a ravaging kiss. jihoon ignores the hold you've got over him too.)

"are you? are you sorry? seemed like you were having fun with 'soonie'," jihoon recalls when he slips out of your hot cunt, a series of incoherent whines and complains slipping from your lips at the feeling of being empty.

"jihoon," you drawl out, wiggling your ass back as you dumbly try to chase any sort of friction you can get, but jihoon's not having any of it as he pins you down with his hand. "fuck, i'm sorry ... i really really am," you choke out, as jihoon yanks you down the length of the couch and flips you over so you're laying on your back.

"really?" jihoon asks, and you can finally see his face—the way his eyebrows furrow together and sweat beads down his forehead. the way his lips are flush and mouth slightly open as he pants for air. it's beautiful, and for a second you realize you feel too much, and focus back on the feeling of his fat cock prodding slipping through your folds. "or would you rather be with 'soonie,' right now?"

"no!" you protest immediately, wrapping your legs around his torso as an attempt to ground jihoon in place. "only you, only want you," you pant, lifting your hips to meet his cock halfway as he finally pushed into you. "please jihoonie?" you coo, letting your eyes well up with tears once more, but this time out of pure frustration and desperation.

jihoon's got his arms on either side of your head, sharp gaze boring into yours as you blink rapidly, and something flashes in his expression before he furrows his eyebrows and pulls his hips back.

the feeling of being so full suddenly going to painfully empty is dizzying, and as your vision begins to grow foggy, jihoon scoffs, "you think you can just bat your eyelashes and cry a lil and i'll fuck you?"

when you don't respond, merely lolling your head to the side as you look up at him with pleading eyes and a pouty lip, jihoon slips away from all self control and jams his cock into you. "jihoon!" you mewl, thighs spread up higher against your chest as his weight presses into you, cock so deep in your cunt you think you might feel him in your tummy. "jus' like tha—oh, yea-ah jus' like that ..."

"feels good?" jihoon grunts, but doesn't give you the chance to respond so he can smash his lips into yours, tongues mingling in a hot mess of love and anger and lust all at once. jihoon's left hand runs over your waist as kisses you, cock fucking in and out of you with long and powerful deep thrusts. his paws at your tits occasionally, flicking over the nipples and kneading into the soft flesh while he swallows up your moans with his tongue. it's only when his fingers finally smooth over your stomach when jihoon freezes as he's balls-deep inside of you.

"n-no," you cry out, fruitlessly trying to squirm beneath his weight, but jihoon's still on top of you. "please," you choke out, "please don't stop jihoonie—"

"fuck," jihoon finally groans, cutting you off with a shallow but fulfilling thrust, eyes trained on watching your stomach as he does so. you're about to whine and tell him to fuck you harder, but for a moment you watch his face flush and muscles twitch, and you curiously follow his gaze.

you don't expect find is the imprint of jihoon's cock against your stomach.

"oh," you breath out, watching as jihoon takes your hand gingerly and presses it agains the bump at the base of your tummy. gently, he throws in an experimental thrust, and for a moment the bulge disappears before you feel it reappear. "oh—jihoonie, fuck ... s'deep," you moan as his thrusts begin to regain their original vigor.

you feel something different with the way jihoon fucks you. it's difficult to articulate into words because he's fucking your brains out at this point, but there's a fire behind each thrust that has you moaning at the top of your lungs.

jihoon's fucking into you with harsh and calculated snaps of his hips, watching the way his cock bulges against your tummy, groaning under his breath. "needed me so much, huh? had to make room for me and my cock, didn't you?"

the way you struggle to responds spurs jihoon on. he's drunk on you; he'd hate to admit it but you've grown on him. it'd be a problem, he vaguely thinks, but when you begin to babble about how you "love his cock, love him," jihoon realizes that it's not really a problem at all. fuck. he can unpack his feelings later, but right now, he needs to lose himself to you.

"good baby," he coos finally, bringing down a hand to rub against your clit. "g'na cum soon, right?"

"yeah," you nod your head vigorously, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him back down for a messy set of kisses. "cum w'me, jihoonie," you mutter against him.

"fuck," and the way jihoon whines the curse has you writhing against the sofa. "fuck yeah, you'll let me cum in you, right baby? g'na let me make you mine, yeah?"

"yea-ah, please," you grunt against him as your body lurches back and forth and the increasing force of his thrusts. "'m so close," you continue as your vision starts to blur and your ears begin to rush.

"shit, me too just—fuckin' perfect pussy every," he groans, and with one final, sharp thrust jihoon's spilling inside of you. the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls white in thick, heavy spurts has your own orgasm crushing down on you, spasming around jihoon as he shallowing continues to thrust and ride out your highs.

you chant a mantra of his name as your vision blurs white and you pant for air, him flopping down onto your chest as he stills inside of you. jihoon can think about his feelings later, but for now, he revels in the feeling of you murmuring his name as you doze off under him.

#jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #woozi x reader #woozi smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #💌 drabbles #answered #✰ rubyreduji #<jj3 #lee jihoon x reader

[lightseoul]

this with hawks or katsuki 😭🗣https://youtube.com/shorts/nAARZhCZydk?feature=share

link

a/n. OKAY first of all, i apologize for taking so long to respond to this ask! second of all, i modified the prompt from it being a childhood friends to lovers trope to an au where reader is bakugou's long-term sidekick of two years, just so that we won't diverge too much from canon! (part 2)

word count. 1.4k

"hey, dumbass."

you look up from the mission report you've been sticking your nose in for the past half hour. "i thought i told you to stop calling me that."

at that, he smirks. "you'd rather i call you 'extra'?"

"i'd prefer it if you called me by my hero name, Mr. Dynamight."

his eyebrow twitches at the sound of his moniker. "i thought i told you to stop calling me 'mister'."

you shrug. if he's playing the game, you will too.

"well," you cock your head to the side, "tough luck, huh?"

you drop your gaze back to the document before you can catch the infamous scowl that is indubitably directed at you. not that you're actually comprehending anything, though.

lately, being around the pro-hero has made it almost impossible to focus on your work.

which is stupid, because he's your boss and your his sidekick. focused, flawless teamwork is supposed to be the point.

what's more, the physical sensations are getting dangerously near the what-you-would-exprience-if-you-were-smitten area: sweaty palms, racing heartbeat, and your eyes darting towards wherever he is in a room.

or...you could just be scared of him, right? if there's anyone who can trigger your fight-or-flight mode, it's bakugou katsuki.

"you're lucky your my sidekick," he sneers.

you dare not look at him. you can almost feel him sporting that boyish smirk, and you know your heart can't take that.

what the fuck.

"hey, extra."

you look over your shoulder only to see bakugou decked in his hero gear, covered in dirt and grime from the day's work—eyebrows furrowed. you ignore him, directing your attention back to the front, where you're walking towards.

but he pipes up with: "i'm talking to you!"

you scoff. spinning on your feet to face him, you shoot him a glare. "would it really kill you to just call me by my hero name? heck, i'd even let you call me by my first name!"

at that, bakugou's eyebrows shoot up so minutely. "you serious?"

"does it look like i'm joking?" you ask, exasperated.

a few seconds pass before he responds.

"well, then," he shifts on his feet like he usually does. "i guess i'll call you Y/N."

your stomach flips at the sound of your name tumbling from his lips. you mentally chastise yourself before saying: "okay."

"great."

you're staring at your ceiling; the clock reads 2:34 AM.

with a huff, you turn to your side, feeling awake now more than ever.

the past week has been grueling—on top of the back-to-back missions that you had to work on with bakugou as his sole sidekick (he refuses to add another one, says the candidates are all just extras), you had to deal with these confusing feelings, which, no matter how much you try to extinguish them, will not go away.

it's affecting your performance now, too. one particular stealth mission forced proximity between the two of you, and you almost blew it with how you freaked out at having bakugou only a few inches away.

luckily, bakugou didn't say anything about it.

but a part of you—the part that's struggling so much because of him—wishes he did.

you're in his office when you decide to drop the bomb.

"the fuck is this?" he gestures to the document in front of him.

you steel yourself. it's now or never.

"it's my resignation letter," you say as calmly as you can.

a whirlwind of emotions dances across his features, before it turns into an all-too-familiar scowl. "what?"

"i'm resigning," you repeat.

"i heard you," he spits, "i just couldn't believe such ludicrousness can come from your mouth."

at that, you can't help but scoff. "even until my last day here you're still trying to pick a fight with me?"

"who said i'm trying to pick a fight?" he counters.

"i am!" you exclaim.

you contemplate whether or not to tell him he's been doing so ever since your first mission together, ultimately deciding against it. the last thing you need is to add anger to the long list of emotions you feel around your boss.

adoration and longing are already a huge pain in the ass.

"look," you lower your voice in an attempt to be civil. "i signed a contract which says i have the right to terminate my employment anytime, provided that i give you a heads up and a proper resignation letter."

you point to the document in front of you, "well, here it is."

before bakugou can even get a word in, you spin on your heel and march towards his office's exit.

your phone is ringing.

you hit pause on the Netflix show that you're currently binging before lifting your phone to your ear. "hello?"

"hey, Y/N?"

"that's me."

"oh hey!" the man on the other side of the line says again. "this is kirishima."

kirishima as in red riot kirishima? "hi," you parrot back lamely. "what's up?"

"i know this is a tall order," he starts, "but would it be possible for you to pick bakugou up? he's super drunk and asking for you."

your breath hitches. you must be hearing things yet you can't refrain yourself from prodding. "asking for me?"

"yeah. we have denki as our designated driver but bakugou refuses to go with him. he just keeps mumbling your name."

"you can drive, right?" he asks when you don't say anything.

"um, yes." you say, unsure if admitting it is the right decision.

"then please pick your ex-boss up," kirishima pleads, "he's refusing to go with anyone but you."

kaminari and kirishima are the ones that haul bakugou up to the passenger seat when you arrive nine minutes later. sure enough, bakugou, who's dressed to the 9s that it's fucking ridiculous how good he still looks, reeks of alcohol.

once they got him situated and secured in his seat belt, they circle the front of your car and knock on your window, which you promptly open.

kirishima's sheepish when he says, "we owe you one, bro."

"yeah," kaminari adds, "sorry for calling you up this late."

you smile at their genuineness, "it's no problem. i guess i can do him one favor after resigning so abruptly."

"why did you resign?" kaminari asks almost immediately.

"dude," kirishima chastises the man. bakugou remains passed out beside you.

"sorry," kaminari rubs the back of neck. "it's just that you guys were such a good team together."

"yeah," kirishima joins in. "we used to say you were the key to him becoming number one. you guys were that good together."

despite yourself, your face flames at his words. "yeah, well..."

"we understand if you don't want to talk about it, though," kirishima says.

"we're just a bit bummed out that you parted ways," kaminari adds. "he liked you a lot."

that earns him a slap on the arm and a pointed look from kirishima.

your heart is now thrumming at a ridiculously fast pace.

"well, we better go," you change the topic.

"of course! sorry for keeping you," kirishima says before proceeding. "oh, and here's his address."

turns out bakugou is heaver than he looks.

you're standing outside the car thinking about how to haul him up to his unit alone—with the passenger door wide open—when he stirs awake.

almost instantaneously, your heart picks up its pace.

"bakugou?" you try, voice small.

his eyes dart open when he realizes he doesn't know where he is. he looks panicked as he looks around, until he spots you and visibly stills.

"Y/N."

your stomach flips—again—the second he utters your name. "i'm here."

"where am i?" he asks groggily.

you glance toward the building behind you. "we're at your place."

it takes him a moment to register what you just said, brain probably still foggy from the alcohol.

"can you stand?" you ask after a few seconds of silence.

he shakes his head. "i don't want to go yet."

"but you're drunk," you reason. "you have to sleep it off."

bakugou doesn't say anything in response. he merely studies your face—or is trying his best while drunk—and you find yourself hoping he can't feel the warmth emanating from your face.

but when he does say something, it knocks you off your feet and pulls all the air out of you.

"i want to kiss you right now."

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik

as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ˖⁺‧₊

#“real sweet but i wish you were sober”!!!!!!! #sorry was this take on the tiktok okay #lmao it was fun to write tho!! #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Japanese 101

G/N. Ryuhei teaches you some japanese.

You cup your mouth with both hands, take a deep breath and shout, "Kutabare!" (Fuck you!)

A few coworkers turn to you in shock, including the one whose attention you were aiming for.

Ryuhei spins around, eyes lighting up and copies your motion. "Shinee!" (Die!)

Internally flipping through your tiny repertoire of Japanese, it takes you a moment before understanding dawns and you cackle.

It leaves you both with a smile for the rest of the day.

.

.

You repeat the word after him, testing it out for the first time, "Chinchin." (Dick) and then put your own spin on it:

"I hate Eugene, he's a chinchin."

It doesn't really work but it makes Ryuhei laugh anyway.

.

.

Pointing to a stray cat, you exclaim, "Kawaii!" (Cute!)

Ryuhei huffs at your childishness. You're pretty cute too.

.

.

"Hey," you whisper to the blonde seated next to you, "teach me something new."

Face hidden behind his mask, he tilts his head at you as if to say not now.

"Please, before my brain falls asleep."

Ryuhei turns back to Eugene droning on. Something about quarterly growth and being on target, then leans close and mutters, "Kuso kurae."

You jot it down phonetically at the top of your notepad, "Meaning?"

"Eat shit."

You muffle your giggles just in time.

.

.

"Kuso kurae!" you repeat at Ryuhei the next day.

Grinning hard, he gives you a nod and fist pump, "Ganbatte!" (Do your best!)

.

.

In the huskiest, most sensual voice you can muster up, you breathe into his ear, "Iku~" (I'm coming~)

Shit.

Ryuhei's head swims.

Maybe he shouldn't have taught you that one.

.

.

Smiling wide, and holding up the phone to his face, "Baka!" (Idiot!)

Steadying your hand with his, Ryuhei takes a small step back to focus on what you're showing him. Ah, it's a candid photo of him taken this morning, right after you called his name and thrusted the lens in his face.

He looks very handsome, even if he says so himself.

The expression that you captured though, he's not sure what to make of it. Is that what his face is like when he looks at you? He looks vulnerable, exposed. More than he has been in a long time.

"Baka!" you repeat again, like a kid learning a new word - and he supposes, that it is new and novel for you.

"Baka," he agrees, because he does feel like one where you're concerned.

.

.

"Daisuki da." Ryuhei whispers into your ear. Quiet, but not quiet enough as Kenta, sitting on his other side, startles at his words.

You scribble the sounds on your notepad, along with another message 'What does that mean?' then give him a gentle prod with your pen.

Ryuhei's eyes flicker to the paper but he doesn't respond.

"What does it mean?" You say aloud this time, risking drawing the ire of Eugene. Ryuhei gives you a shrug and you click your tongue.

"Fine, I'll just look it up later myself," you hiss, petulant and pouting. "Bakayaro," (Bastard) you add for good measure.

He doesn't react, on the surface. Instead, below the boardroom table, he aims his hand towards you then it springs forward, quick as a dart, peevish fingers pinching at your waist and you squeal.

The entire room turns towards you.

"Sorry," you mutter, face burning red.

.

.

You look it up later that night and feel a different warmth on your face. Growing to the tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes.

Daisuki da.

(I really like you.)

#yes im still doing this #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #ryuhei kuroda #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei x reader #wannaeatramyeon #i did try to research this but apologies for any errors

[ghouljams]

@maelstrom007 you're right Love getting tapped is so good, we love a little light(moderate to severe) hypnosis. Have fun, stay safe, I haven't written for these two in a while.

Simon catches you in a bar. You're late getting home. Which is pretty much exactly what you planned on being. Just on the right side of drunk and having the best time. Even better seeing his skull mask stalking towards you. All the shadows on your body buzz excitedly, Simon's mark squirms under your skin eager for what it knows is coming next. Your favorite preventative measure for a hangover, and your favorite weapon in your monster's arsenal. You hold your arms out to catch him when he reaches you, amd are scooped up nice and tight against his chest with a grumble.

"Lover," you drawl, pulling the r too long, "you always know just when to find me, I was getting so bored." Ghost blinks slow at you, like a cat.

"You're fuckin' hammered," he tells you, and you wiggle in his arms.

"Just a few bottles deep, I had to keep up with the others," you tell him, he shakes his head.

"You've flipped French love, can't understand a word," he growls. The crowd parts for him, strangers stepping out of the way as he carries you towards the door. That makes sense you suppose, you have had a lot to drink and this tends to happen. You shouldn't be expected to speak English all the time, you are full of talents and other words and you are damn well doing to say them.

You prattle to him in French as the crowd moves and flows around the two of you. You pluck at Simon's tethers, picking out the ones that give you the brightest burst of sensation and toying with them. His growling grows louder, the rumble of it starting to alert the rest of the crowd that there's a predator in their midst.

He sets you down against the bar, holding you firmly between his hands. He stares you down like he's trying to glare a new hole in you. After a moment he reaches for your face and you can't stop yourself from lighting up. He grabs your chin instead, his eyes crinkle at the edges.

"You're tryin' to get tapped," he accurately guesses. You pout, and he presses his thumb against your lips. The bass of the bar's music thumps in time with your heart, hammers in your ears. He chuckles, low and dark, it's the loudest sound in the room. "And ya didn't wanna ask for it, little brat." He pushes his thumb into your mouth, presses it down against your tongue. "Spendin' too much time with Soap."

He lets you attempt to explain yourself, holding your mouth open each time you attempt to speak. Ghost leans close, and you wonder if he might kiss you, he even pushes his mask up. The best you get is his tongue pushing in next to his finger, dipping into your mouth briefly before he spits on your tongue. You shudder. If there weren't so many people in this bar...

"Alright, let's get you home," Ghost relents pulling his thumb free and smearing your drool across your cheek. You sigh, fishing around in your purse for your phone, figuring you'll call an Uber. His fingers press against your forehead the second your guard drops.

The world pitches forward, all the colors of the room bleeding together as Ghost catches you and hauls you up over his shoulder. Your limbs feel like they're made of TV static, like every inch of you has fallen asleep at the wrong angle. Pins and needles in the most pleasant way. It's like you're floating. Your mind can't focus on anything, too busy floating with the rest of your body to notice the way Ghost stalks towards the exit, the way his shadows smoke and slither over your skin. You simply hang over his shoulder and enjoy the ride.

You think your vision might have gone black. Oh, no, no you closed your eyes. Nope it's black. Oh no, false alarm you're staring at Simon's sweatshirt. You twist your fingers into the fabric, you think you do anyway, and hold onto him. Ghost echoes in your mind, that low chuckle, the rumble of his growl, you wish he'd had time to dirty talk you more. Brat or no you got what you wanted. The best high money can't buy, all yours for the low price of your whole life.

Pretty sweet deal when Simon drops you on the bed as soon as you're home. Strips you and crawls over you, arranges you exactly how he likes, and hikes your legs up over his shoulders. All his, you think, utterly and completely his. That's why you went out tonight, because you knew he'd find you and take you home to keep you. It's a wonderful game you play, one that has a winner every time. But when Ghost pulls his cock free of his pants, already achingly hard and drooling for you, you're not sure who the winner is. Maybe both of you. It certainly feels like both of you when he pushes into your cunt, already nicely molded to his shape, and you both groan.

"Yes," you whine, trapped with sluggish limbs and a fuzzy brain as he pushes in and out of your dripping cunt. His hips snapping against yours, his teeth teasing the length of your neck when he leans over you.

"Mine," he tells you, reminds you with the points of his teeth and the drag of his thick cock against your walls. Each thrust seems to drag you further into the magic he worked on you, pulls you further under water, under his spell. He never needs to tap you more than once to have you exactly where he wants you.

"Yours," you agree, feeling his teeth press against your skin. Never enough to break skin, just enough to keep you on edge, just enough to frighten you. So what if you're both winners, winning feels fucking great.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #x oc #1fae1 #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost x oc #ghost cod #fae!ghost #oc: love #hypnosis kink #fae magic bullshit #ofc #f!reader #ghost x f!reader #original female character

[venti-venus]

baby driver - j. m x reader

summary: after a failed study session with dean forester, jess and y/n decide to get a little innocent payback.

𐌕Ꮤ: hating on dean forester, accurate gilmore girls banter and drama, not spellchecked, first jess fic yippie ! ¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ ¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

"Mariano," Y/N whined, stumbling into Luke's Diner. She dragged her feet across the floor and dramatically plopped down on one of the bar stools. " I feel like my face is about to fall off and I'm blaming it on you."

Jess rolled his eyes as he wiped down the counter, "Good morning to you too, Y/N. I get the feeling you didn't just come in here to complain."

"And you would be right!" Y/N smirked, "I'm here for the doughnuts. Chocolate, please." She jokingly batted her eyelashes before yawning. "Ugh, get me a coffee too."

"So, why are you up at eight o'clock in the morning," Jess poured her some coffee and handed it to her, along with the doughnuts. "You don't wake up until at least two. Special occasion?"

"Oh yeah, Dean Forester is real special. I'm supposed to meet up with him to go over our English assignment. I doubt he'll actually focus on the work though. I swear he's been so obsessed with Rory it's actually suffocating my last braincell."

Jess laughed at your comment, "You wish that was you or somethin'?"

Y/N threw a crumb of her doughnut at him and gagged, "As if! Dean doesn't even like Bowie, there's no chance him and I are gonna be anything more than friends."

"Very true," Jess smirked, "Any hater of David Bowie should be locked up and studied. I'm glad you're staying away from the freaks of the world, Y/N. Very proud."

"Yeah well, I better get going. Dean said he would pick me up from here and drive us to the lake so we can focus or something." Y/N sighed, "Wish me luck, Mario."

"Hey, do not call me that. Put some respect on a poor kids name, will ya?" He joked, "At least you get to ride around in his car. Pretty nice one if I do say so myself."

"Pretty car, pretty annoying boy." Y/N took her coffee and doughnuts and gave Jess one last smile before she headed out to wait for Dean and his car. Surely he wouldn't be too long..

"H-Hey, Jess," Y/N's shaky voice spoke into her phone, "Can you come pick me up? I'm at the lake and it's raining and Dean left an-"

"I'll be there in 10." Y/N could hear a door slam and a car start on the other side of the line. Jess hung up and Y/n waited as he drove to come get her.

The study session had gone alright, but it was what happened after that which led to Y/N now being stranded. She hid under what little over a close by oak tree had and waited until Jess pulled up.

“Get in.” Jess handed her a towel as Y/N got into his car. His knuckles grew white as he gripped the steering wheel, not saying anything else as he drove off.

“Thank you, Jess.” Y/N sniffled, “I could’ve walked but my house is too far with the rain and all.” She looked over to see the brunette focused on the road.

She decided to stay quiet as he drove her to her house, using the towel Jess gave her to dry off as best she could.

"The hell do you mean he kissed you?" Jess yelled from the living room, arms crossed on his chest. His eyebrows were so creased, they were practically conjoined. He was sitting down on the couch while Y/N was in the kitchen, trying to dry off and get water.

"I don't know! He told me he was finally dating Rory and everything was fine and then out of the blue," Y/N threw her hands up, "And then I freaked out because, hello, he just said he was with Rory!"

Jess huffed. "And then what happened?"

"He got mad at me for some stupid reason and yelled at me." Y/N got quieter, "I swear Dean makes no sense. One minute he's normal and the other he's... I'm sure there's some reference I could make but I can't think of one, but you get what I'm saying. He totally flipped."

Y/N opened her refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water. "Oh, and then," She scoffed, "He had the audacity to tell me that he actually liked me the whole time. He was 'too scared' to tell me though because-. (because he thought I was dating you.)" Y/N paused and quietly mumbled, "That's not important." She frantically walked over to the living room and sat down next to Jess.

"Does he even like Rory? Or is he just leading her on now?" Jess was confused about the whole situation.

"Everyone likes Rory, Jess." Y/N rolled her eyes, "But I don't think he wants to get serious with her. I just can't believe he would do something like that to me."

"That tall freak has some serious paying up to do," Jess got up. "Go get changed into something dry. I have an idea."

Jess and Y/N got into Dean's Ford F-150, muffling their laughs as best as they could.

"Wait, you know how to drive, right?" Jess teased as he buckled his seatbelt.

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled out of Dean's driveway. Rory had picked him up earlier after Jess pulled a few strings, so his car was free and available for a little joy ride.

"I got my license last year, Jess. I'm practically Richard Petty." She pulled out of the driveway and turned on the radio.

"Okay, baby driver." Jess laughed as the two of them began to drive, happily using Dean's car for the night.

¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ ¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x you #milo ventimiglia #venti venus writes #venus village #gilmore girls x reader #gilmore girls

[pathetic-sapphic]

Can I request meeting Viktor for the first time? What he'd think and how he might act, and how a friendship then blossoms which leads to romance. The reader being fem and a bit shy at first but bold once you know them

I love your work! Xx

Friends to Lovers with Viktor

Viktor doesn't usually pay much attention to the people that Jayce brings over to the lab. He tends to ignore them and focus on his work, he wanted to do the same when Jayce brought you over but Jayce was insistent on introducing the two of you. According to him, you two ''would get along really well'' because ''you have similar brilliant minds and a kind heart''. Viktor was suspicious of this but you seem genuinely eager to meet him and interested in his work, albeit you were a bit shy which he honestly found quite endearing.

Since then, you have become a constant presence in their lab, mostly spending time with Viktor by talking to him about his work and helping him take care of himself. Viktor was quite taken aback by the kindness and gentleness that you showed him, always worrying about his well-being and bringing him little snacks and drinks. Even if he tried not to pay attention to you and focus on his current project, you always stayed by his side, patiently observing and letting him do his thing. It was the first time in his life that Viktor learned how to enjoy silence with another person.

Jayce was the first of the three of you who noticed the feelings blossoming between you and Viktor. He was ecstatic when he realized and thought that you would make a lovely couple. However, both of you were quite shy and believed that the other person's feelings weren't mutual. So, Jayce formed a plan; he needed to get the two of you out of the lab, alone, and he knew just the way to do it.

He decided to invite you both out for a cozy drink at a bookshop café nearby. He told you that he just wanted to hang out with you both and you happily agreed. Viktor was a tougher nut to crack, always pouring over his work and being holed up in the lab. Jayce managed to convince him by telling Viktor he found some books which could contain some helpful information but there were so many that he couldn't go over them alone. Reluctantly, Viktor agreed to meet up with him, oblivious to Jayce's great master plan.

Of course, when only you and Viktor showed up at the café, it didn't take long for the two of you to realize that Jayce was behind all this. Figuring you might as well take advantage of finally being alone with one another, you and Viktor quickly slipped into a pleasant and riveting conversation.

Viktor could not remember for the life of him when was the last time he had so much fun, seeing you become comfortable at his side and laughing as you re-tell the story of that time you pranked Jayce, Viktor found himself completely whipped by your presence. Figuring it's now or never, he gently placed his hand atop of yours and admitted, ''Darling, I know the true reason behind Jayce's absence today. The truth is I have admired you and been in love with you for a while now, and I suppose that this was his way of giving me a chance to fess up. Now, I understand if you don't feel the same, it will not change our friendship. But if, by any chance, the feeling is mutual then I'd like to take you out on a proper date this Friday, without the scheming of some third-party Councilor? What do you say, my dear?''

Oh, seeing your blushing cheeks as you stuttered out a confession of your own had Viktor's heart doing flips. You were just so darling and sweet, he was so lucky that you felt the same. The rest of your date was spent planning the next one. You agreed to visit a nearby aquarium followed by a relaxing walk in the park.

Time flows by quick when you're in such lovely company and before you knew it, Viktor was accompanying you home. He walked you all the way to your door and just when he was about to bid you a good night, you gathered up all the courage you had and planted a shy kiss on his cheek. Viktor, in return, gently lifted your hand and pecked it. You swore you could feel the redness of his cheeks against your fingers. With flaming faces, you wished each other farewell and went your separate ways.

Let's just say you both owe a favor to Jayce, you'll figure out how to make it up to him during your next date. Until then, you were both going to be quite busy, you with figuring out what to wear and Viktor with figuring out what flowers he should get for you.

#arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #requests are open #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x female reader #viktor x you #viktor league of legends #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor fluff

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. This is a rough translation.

The morning after Galileo and I went stargazing一

Mitsuki: "Morning, Drake. I'm preparing breakfast right now, so please wait a moment."

Drake: "Thanks, little fawn."

After exchanging greetings and continuing cooking, Drake shifted his gaze to my arm.

Drake: "Looks like your injury has completely healed."

Mitsuki: "Yeah, thanks to everyone's help. And thanks for your concern, Drake."

Drake: "Me 'too,' huh?"

After mumbling that, he suddenly stared at me.

Mitsuki: "Is something wrong?"

Drake: "Nah. Did something good happen, little fawn?"

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Drake: "You seem to be in a good mood. You're pretty expressive, you know."

Mitsuki: "R-Really? There's nothing special, though."

Drake: "Hmm? Well, whatever. I'll go feed Draco and Sidereus."

With a smile, Drake left the room.

(I seemed cheerful? Was my expression really that relaxed?)

I told him earlier that nothing was up, but I could think of one possible reason.

(I saw Galileo's smile for the first time.)

My heart fluttered again, recalling his breathtaking smile from last night.

(If someone who's always been so curt suddenly smiles like that, it's only natural to feel happy, right? Yeah.)

Muttering excuses in my mind, I returned my focus to making breakfast.

Later, after visiting the university with Galileo, I sneaked out of the lecture hall while he was teaching and headed to the library to find out more about him.

(I want to know more about him and his past.)

With that in mind, I searched for history books and biographies, flipping through pages like unraveling a mystery.

Galileo Galilei.

A historical figure who contributed not only to astronomy but also to geometry, mathematics, and physics and was even called the Father of Modern Science.

However, what was recorded in the books was not just his achievements.

Galileo advocated the 'heliocentric theory,' stating that the Earth revolves around the Sun.

However, this theory contradicted the geocentric view held by the Church.

He was then subjected to an inquisition by the church and found guilty.

After spending some time holed up in the library and borrowing a few books, I stepped outside to find a blue sky stretching out before me.

It was almost too bright for me, so I shielded my eyes with my hand and reflected on what I'd read earlier.

(Galileo was subjected to an inquisition.)

I heard that term when I was at the mansion because Jean had also been subjected to a trial.

According to the books, Galileo was considered a heretic.

(Speaking out in favor of the heliocentric theory was a grave matter back then.)

His fervor for seeking the truth seemed to have clashed with the norms of that era.

(But nowadays, heliocentrism is taught as common knowledge.)

(His claims have been scientifically proven to be correct.)

(Did the charges against him get overturned? But all I had read was that he was found guilty.)

I decided that when I got back, I would go over the books again more carefully.

???: "Mitsuki?"

(Huh?)

I turned around at the sound of my name and saw Napoleon and Sebastian standing side by side.

Mitsuki: "Napoleon, Sebastian! It's been a while. What are you both doing here?"

Napoleon: "That's our line. Weren't you supposed to take care of your acquaintance?"

Mitsuki: "Um, actually, he's working here at the university, and I came here to assist him."

I quickly tried to make up some excuse.

Sebastian: "I see. I'm here to deliver lunch to Isaac."

Napoleon: "And I was asked by the vigilantes to teach swordsmanship in the university square."

Mitsuki: "Vigilantes?"

Sebastian: "They're young people who admire Napoleon and have voluntarily formed themselves to help the citizens."

Sebastian: "Recently, they've been patrolling the streets, helping people, and resolving disputes."

Mitsuki: "Wow! It's all thanks to your influence, right? That's impressive."

Sebastian proudly nodded as I exclaimed, and Napoleon let out a wry smile.

Napoleon: "I'm just lending a hand. The impressive ones are those kids themselves."

Napoleon: "Paris in this era isn't entirely peaceful either. There are clashes between the wealthy and the poor due to the wealth gap."

Napoleon: "And I heard there's been another bizarre death in the slums."

(Slums...)

I suddenly remembered something I’d heard at the mansion before.

(That incident still hasn’t been resolved.)

Whether it was the work of vampires or not, it was still a creepy incident.

(Why does it always happen in the slums?)

As that question arose, the image of a boy with curly golden hair and blue eyes suddenly came to mind.

(That child also seemed to be living in poverty.)

(If he’s frequenting the slums, I hope he doesn’t get involved.)

(Come to think of it, I don’t even know his name.)

(Next time I see that child, I’ll try asking.)

Napoleon: “Sorry. It’s been a while since we saw each other, and I’m bringing up dark topics. Hm?”

Napoleon saw the book I was holding and tilted his head.

Napoleon: “Are you researching Galileo Galilei?”

Mitsuki: “Ah, yeah. A bit.”

Sebastian, with a gleam in his eye, looked surprisingly excited.

Sebastian: “He’s one of the most renowned figures. In terms of global recognition, he might even rival Napoleon.”

Sebastian: “But it’s unusual for you to show interest in a specific historical figure. Was there any particular reason?”

Mitsuki: “Well, my acquaintance is knowledgeable about astronomy, so I got interested.”

Mitsuki: “I only know bits and pieces of history, so I thought I’d take the time to delve into it properly.”

Mitsuki: "I want to know the truth about what kind of person he was and how he lived."

Sebastian: "The truth, huh? So this is your first step in exploring history."

While keeping Galileo's identity hidden, both Sebastian and Napoleon flashed confident smiles.

Napoleon: "Heh. If that's the case, you could have just asked me."

Mitsuki: "What do you mean?"

Napoleon: "I mean, you do know I'm a bit of a bookworm, right?"

Napoleon: "I've been reading Galileo's works for a long time and supported his modern way of thinking."

Napoleon: "In simple terms, I guess you could call me a fan."

Mitsuki: "Really? You're a fan?"

(Even the emperor Napoleon supported him.)

(He truly is an incredible man.)

Sebastian: "It's nice to hear you tell those stories yourself!"

Napoleon: "I may not be as knowledgeable as Sebas, though."

Napoleon: "So, what do you want to know? I think I can answer most questions."

Encouraged by Napoleon, I pondered for a moment.

Mitsuki: "Then, do you know about the Inquisition?"

I asked, and Napoleon furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

Napoleon: "Yeah, I know about it."

Napoleon: "Back when I was still a soldier, I had doubts about Galileo's heresy trial, so I collected trial records."

Mitsuki: "You were that dedicated. Galileo was found guilty in the trial, right?"

Napoleon: "Yeah. It was because Galileo's heliocentric theory contradicted the teachings of the Church."

Napoleon: "But there are rumors that there were other reasons as well."

Mitsuki: "Huh? Other reasons?"

Napoleon: "Being involved in power struggles or some other motives. I'm not sure."

If it were true that he was found guilty for reasons beyond the truth, then the trial was far from just.

Napoleon: "After being found guilty in the trial, Galileo was forced to renounce his heliocentric theory."

Napoleon: "Some people said that he muttered the words 'and yet it moves' during that time."

(He said those words in such a situation.)

I had always thought he said those words upon discovering the truth, but in reality, he uttered them while being cornered to the point of having to abandon the truth.

I wonder how much bitterness was contained within those words.

Mitsuki: "What happened to Galileo afterward?"

Napoleon: "According to records, he was sentenced to life imprisonment and spent the rest of his life under house arrest."

(Life imprisonment?)

A fool was sentenced to life imprisonment for seeking the truth.

(That was definitely about Galileo himself.)

Mitsuki: "But regardless of the reasons, the heliocentric theory is true, right? Wasn't the trial revoked?"

Sebastian was the one who answered that question.

Sebastian: "Historically, Mr. Isaac's achievements provided a theoretical framework that supported and proved the heliocentric model."

Sebastian: "However, it wasn't until the 20th century that Galileo's trial began to be reassessed."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Sebastian: "Galileo was officially declared innocent 350 years after his presumed death."

(350 years...)

I was stunned by the sheer length of time.

Until very recently, Galileo was still considered a criminal.

Napoleon: "I see. In the era you two came from, Galileo was declared innocent."

Napoleon: "He never said anything wrong from the beginning; he kept insisting on the truth all along."

Napoleon: "Being branded a heretic for 350 years is indeed quite long."

Napoleon muttered with a hint of pity in his voice.

(I didn't know Galileo had such a past.)

(I said those things without knowing anything.)

------------Flashback-----------

Mitsuki: "Even someone like me, who isn't very knowledgeable about history, knows how famous he is."

Galileo: ".........."

Mitsuki: "He's the historical figure who advocated for the heliocentric theory and left the words 'And yet it moves'."

Galileo: "And I have a warning for you."

Galileo: "Don't ever mention that man in front of me again."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Despite not knowing about the suffering throughout Galileo's life, I spoke insensitively about him as a remarkable person who left behind great achievements.

In my era, they taught the heliocentric theory as a matter of course, but behind that, people have long undermined Galileo’s dignity.

It was only natural for Galileo to resent a world that turned away from the truth and kept denying him.

Moreover, witnessing the persecution of the dhampirs may have ignited anger in him.

(He might have considered ending the world, fueled by anger, hatred, and sorrow, but...)

The phrase “a fool who pursued the truth ended up with a life sentence” stuck in my mind.

(Galileo is someone who pursues the truth with his own eyes.)

He couldn't bring himself to abandon the truth until the end, saying, 'And yet it moves.'

(For him, the truth shouldn't be foolish.)

(Yet why did he deny himself?)

As various thoughts whirled around in my head, I lifted my gaze.

Mitsuki: "Thank you for explaining in detail. Napoleon, Sebastian."

Mitsuki: "Sorry, but I have to go now. I'm glad I could see you guys after so long."

Napoleon: "Yeah. Hang in there until things settle down on your end."

Sebastian: "Please visit us occasionally as well."

Smiling as I bid farewell to the two, I entered the school building, tightly holding onto the book in my hand.

(I want to know about Galileo.)

(I want to see what he's trying to do, observe him from the sidelines, and get closer to him.)

(But to understand him, I'll have to confront his feelings that aren't recorded in books.)

(I have no choice but to face it on my own.)

Seeking the invisible truth, I looked ahead.

As dusk approached, Galileo, having finished his lecture, returned to his office.

Galileo: "Were you reading a book again today?"

Mitsuki: "Yes."

Galileo: "What is it?"

Mitsuki: "Can I talk to you before we leave?"

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp jp #ikevamp galileo #ikevamp translations #ikevamp napoleon #cybird

[radiantteacup]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐌-𝐖𝐄𝐁𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘!

༊*·˚ When you chose a major like Aerospace Engineering you imagined it would be challenging but nothing had prepared you for how arduous it truly is, luckily your sweet boyfriend is there to comfort you!

˗ˏˋFeaturing ´ˎ˗ Akaashi Keiji, Sugawara Koushi, Daichi Sawamura, Iwaizumi Hajime, Kuroo tetsurou, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Osamu Miya.

˗ˏˋWarnings ´ˎ˗ Strong language, Lashing out

God, this was exhausting.

You'd been slaving over your 16 page Aerospace Engineering final essay for hours, getting practically no where. What in the hell had made you think Aerospace Engineering was the way to go?

You're close to tears at this point as you flip through your worn out, second hand copy of The Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Your professor had given a very circumlocutory speech about how "1st grade level vocabulary just wasn't going to cut it in his class."

So now you're here, sitting in a fluffy bear onesie, at your desk, at 2am, using words like circumlocutory instead of being with your boyfriend, asleep in the bed behind you.

Glancing back at your unconscious lover you can't help the worn out smile that crawls its way onto your lips. You guess not even exhaustion could fend off your adulation for the handsome boy.

You sigh, turning back to the laptop screen sitting on the desk in front of you. The suddenly resplendent glow of the screen was giving you ineffable headache which suddenly sparked rage within you.

I can't fucking stand this anymore.

Abruptly standing up from where you'd been seated for what felt like a millennia, you slam the laptop closed and shove the dictionary off the desk. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to force back the tears that sting your eyes, resting your trembling hands on the wooden desk.

Despite your best efforts, droplets of water come cascading down your cheeks just moments later. The frustration that had been bubbling in your chest was starting to suffocate you in your own rage.

"Babe?"

The sound of his voice breaks your trance of monotonous anger.

"What now?"

You spoke with breviloquence, the raised tone of your voice irritatingly telling of your current predicament.

Rather than answering, he slides out of the bed, quietly making his way to you. You can hear him grunt as he steps over your chair which had fallen over when you shoved yourself out of it.

"What's wrong baby?"

His voice is soft in your ear, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against his chest.

"I-"

Your voice breaks, the tightness in your throat stealing your words; You hang your head, bringing your hands to cover your mouth as you try to hold back the sobs that broke from between your lips.

I'm so fucking tired.

Your barely register the feeling of him turning you around in his arms, holding your head against his chest, but it slams open the last flood gate that blocked your tears as you break down in his warm embrace.

You faintly hear the way he hums in your ear, rocking the two of you side to side. You try to focus on it, on the pitchy mumbles of London Bridge is Falling Down while your breathing begins to even out.

When the tears stop falling, he brings his hand up to cup your cheeks, angling your face to look at him.

"Can you tell what's wrong now baby?"

The gentle murmur of his voice almost makes you want to cry again.

"This stupid fucking professor expects us to write a 16 page essay using meritorious vocabulary words like fucking Consangeneous."

"When is it supposed to be due?"

"Next Wednesday."

"Then come to bed, it's only Thursday, honey."

You want to refuse, to insist you stay up and keep working, but even imagining opening that laptop again makes you want to cry, so you oblige and follow him to bed.

When the two of you are finally beneath the covers, holding one another you can hear him whisper softly in your ear.

"You're doing so well my love, so just relax for now."

A/n: Tbh I wrote this because I've been preparing to go back to school and needed an excuse to test out new vocab words. You may see a lot of grandiose words in my next few works. :p

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime #Iwaizumi Hajime x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #Kuroo fluff #Kuroo fanfic #akaashi imagine #akaashi fluff #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi headcanons #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #haikyuu sugawara #Sugawara fluff #sugawara koshi x reader #daichi sawamura #daichi x reader #haikyuu daichi #daichi x you #daichi sawamura x reader #Daichi fluff #daichi headcanons

[minimoxha]

Kinktober 2023- The album

ɜ: sᴏɴɢ two- size kink

ɜ: Feat; Getou, maybe a slight fear

(Sorry, this was supposed to come out wayy earlier!)

He didn't even know what to do to you. How he could crush your body with his hand turned him on through dinner. It was a first date, the prime time to get to know you and see if this was going to be a beautiful relationship or not. Though Getou, couldn't even focus on whatever the hell you were saying because his mind kept jumping to what it would be like to be on top of you. He was smart enough though to make up random responses that matched what you were saying to keep you into him and happy. He had hoped you'd be into him anyway.

Getou still hopes that as he sits with his hand on your thigh, listening to you hum the music as he drives you home. He knows he should drive you home and leave room for a second date before he tries something but it was just so hard to do. He knew he had to be a gentleman, women don't want men who want them for their bodies but how could he do that when you were just sitting there allowing his hand on your thigh as if you wanted him to do something. And confirming his theory, you squeezed your legs together as if you were trying trying to stimulate your clit. He noticed, even if just a small twitch, and flipped a switch in his head.

"Getou, you were supposed to make a left at the light, not a right." You turned to the man who seemed to be in a robotic trance. His nod was just as synthetic as the smile on his face you saw when he turned to you. "One detour and then you can go home." He turned his head back to the road and kept going.

Something was off with the man and you could tell. From start to finish, he was a green flag but when you got in the car with him and his hand had taken place on your thigh he just seemed cloudy. Especially now, when you two were the only ones on the dark road. It seemed weird, it made you scared.."Getou, can we just turn around? It's getting really late and I want to go home" Your mind raced with theories of what could go down in the next ten minutes. More so when he didn't respond to you and kept his eyes on the road. Tears began to fill your eyes as you frantically texted on your phone which was just a few percent away from dying. Noticing your frantic persona, Geto pulled the car over to the side of the road in a rather abrupt manner before turning to your teary face. And as much as that should have pulled at his heartstrings, his dick was pulled instead.

"What's wrong, Y/n? Did I do something?" He asked, his voice not coming off as worried as he wanted it to. Instead, it came off as if he was teasing your very existence. "Why are you crying?" As he grabbed your chin and gently made you look at him, his hardon grew. He wasn't even sure he could mask it anymore because you had made him so fucking hard. Just a cute baby that needed to be fucked into multiple things, a vehicles seat being one of them.

"Geto, you're scaring me. I don't know where you're taking me." Your voice wavered as you spoke, subconsciously moving closer to the door than sitting closely to him. But for some reason, you let his hand remain on your thigh.

"I seemed to have lost myself, the truth is.." Geto leaned closer, to whisper it to you even though there were only two people in the car and whatever he said would be heard anyway. "I'm doing everything in my power to not take you right now. You have been turning me on since dinner."

You kept silent for a minute after his confession, you were feeling just the same as him. Getou was scared; how was he supposed to face you when he basically told you about his lack of self-control? He was just about to start the car back up when you reached over and kissed the man like you were the only two on earth. From then, the kiss deepened as he pulled you on top of him. It worked for a bit but he needed to be inside of you, his cock was already leaking in his pants from holding you by the waist and being able to actually feel how small you were. Without a word, he roughly (but carefully) tosses you into the backseat and hastily puts his seat down in order to crawl back there himself and ravish you.

(ill finish the smut later ngl)

#kenjaku #jjk x reader #jjk geto #geto sugug #geto suguru #xreader #black!reader #fanfic #minimoxha #anime #geto x reader #over #size k!nk #size difference #getou x reader smut #geto x reader smut #kinktober #minimoxhakinktober

[sloppysequinz]

Baby's First House Party, Part 4

Previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3

Smoke session won the poll for the last activity of the night. Let's see how our poor little baby handles it.

You're staggering across the patio with your arm linked in your friends, leaning into her. She's tall and soft and warm and steady and you're drunk enough to nuzzle into her. She smells amazing. You're eagerly aiming for the door to the house, where more red cups or maybe more tequila shots await. You wanted more of this thick, heavy, feeling, you felt free and horny and you wanted to take whatever this woman would offer you.

But as you neared the door, she stopped, looking at a group of people on the patio. You squint in the direction she's looking, and it takes a moment for your bleary eyes to focus. There's a ring of people sitting in lawn chairs on the edge of the ring of light from the porch. One of them is holding a mysterious glass contraption. Your friend licks her lips. "C'mon, baby." her voice is low and you shiver. "You gotta try this."

" 'Sit more booze?" you ask. You don't know for sure, but the glass device has a long top that probably could be drunk out of. Your friend laughs.

"Oh, no, sweetie." She replies. She reaches over and strokes your arm. "This is special."

"Budd... I wann more booze..." you insist, leaning towards the kitchen. The vodka and tequila and beer are heavy in your belly and you find yourself wanting to fill yourself with more and more booze. You try and make puppy eyes. Unbeknownst to you, you eyes are squinty and glazed over, hardly cute by most standards--though truth be told, it's almost enough to get her to take you into the kitchen for more. But the lure of the circle is too much, and she won't relent.

She unlinks her arm from yours and runs her hand up your back into your hair. She grabs your hair by the roots and tugs it, using it to shake your head gently, giggling. "Silly little thing~" she sing songs. "There'll be more booze later. This is special." The grip in your hair overcomes any desire you previously had and you stumble after her.

She walks up to the circle and flips her hair, puts a hand on her hip, and smiles. You almost drool. It's so simple, but she knows how to look good. The circle's inhabitants stare. "Can my friend and I join?" she asks, pointing to you. You wave a numb hand awkwardly.

"Yeah, sure, course!" says the person holding the device. "You're always welcome." Your friend guides you to an empty lawn chair and you plop down drunkenly. She sits down gracefully, and her skirt rides up a little. You stare at her thighs, barely noticing as the weird glass device makes its way around the circle, until suddenly it's in her hands. You watch as she puts her glossy lips on top of the long neck you thought might be for drinking. She holds a lighter to the side of the device, then suddenly takes the device apart and now she's exhaling smoke. You want her to exhale smoke all over you.

She turns to you and holds out the device, then pauses. "Do you even know what this is?" she asks, grinning.

"Uhmmm...no." you confess. You blush.

"Oh my GOD you are so cuuuuuute." She coos, ruffling your hair. There are titters of disbelief from the crowd. "It's all ok baby, I'll show you everything, alright?" You nod, trusting her, and lean in close.

"This is called a bong, sweetie." She's talking slowly. You want to tell her you're not stupid, but with all the alcohol coursing through you, you know it's not true. Besides, you realize looking at her that her eyes are bloodshot and hazy. You're not sure she can talk faster. She's pointing to parts of the device. "You put your mouth here. The smoke goes through water here, so it's supposed to be like...less harsh. This is the bowl, that's where the actual weed is. You're a newbie so I'll like, light it for you the first time."

You hesitate a little. You'd never really received any education on this kind of thing, other than a halfhearted "Drugs are bad, mkay?" from your parents. But....your guide hadn't steered you wrong so far tonight, and if all these people had done it, it probably wasn't dangerous....besides, you wanted to smoke with her. You had wanted to do anything she asked since you first laid eyes on her.

"So put your mouth here. Open wider, sweetie. Good!" She sticks the mouthpiece against your face, jarring your teeth a little. "Whoops, sorry. Mama's a little fucked up." She giggles. A girl calling herself mama probably shouldn't be sexy, but it is. "Breathe in just a lil while I light this ok?" She flicks the lighter a few times, bringing it closer and closer to her face. It's clearly taking all her concentration. Finally she gets it and whoops, turning back to you. "You're not smoking yet, just creating, like, uh, a vacuum."

You breathe in as she holds the lighter to the bowl. Just as she said, there's no smoke yet, at least not in your mouth. "See, you watch the smoke build up here." she points into the chamber of the bong. "And then...ok, get ready to breathe in!" She takes the bowl out and you inhale deeply. All the built up smoke enters your lungs, surprising you, but she slaps a hand over your mouth, preventing you from exhaling.

"Not yet, baby. Hold it. I know it's hard but you're doing so good," she whispers into your ear. "Just a few seconds, I promise." Your eyes are watering but you would never disobey her. True to her word, after a few seconds, she takes her hand away. You exhale and begin coughing furiously, making everyone in the circle laugh. Grinning, she passes the bong to the next person in the circle. Someone tosses her a beer, which she opens and hands to you.

"Here, sweetie. This'll help with the coughing." You nod and drink deeply. The light beer tastes like the nectar of the gods after your coughing fit. She rubs your back as you drink and recover.

Within 30 seconds, it's all worth it. The hazy feeling in your head deepens and colors. You can hear the music from inside the house, and it lines up with shapes and cartoons suddenly running through your head. The light from the porch is suddenly lighter and more golden. Your body feels weightless and beautiful. You turn to your friend and smile dazedly. Who ever said drugs were bad?

She smiles back at you. "How do you feel?"

"Fuggin....amazing...."

"Told you it was, like, special right?" she responds, running her hand up to tug on your hair again. Your smile widens.

"Yeah...."

As you stare into space, the bong comes back around to the person who invited you and your friend to the circle. They set the bong gently on the ground, open a silver canister, and frown. "We're running a little low," they say. "I thought I had enough for everyone, but this party is bigger than we thought..."

"Here," replies your friend, digging something out of her skirt pocket. A little plastic bag with something green and lumpy in it. Is that what weed looks like? You lazily follow the arc of the bag as she throws it. "This is on the house."

"Oh, fuck yeah." The circle leader opens the baggie and gets to work. "You always bring the good shit, babes."

"No problem, babes," she replies, leaning back in her chair. "All for the greater good of the party."

Slowly but surely, jealousy seeps into your addled brain. Your face frowns slowly. You tug on your friend's arm. "Babes?"

"Yeah?"

You shake your head and point at the person busily re-filling the bowl of the bong. "They're babes?"

She giggles. "Most of my friends are babes."

You slouch in your chair and mumble. "...wanna be babes..." you say. She leans in closer, looking confused. "I wanna be babes!" you say, louder, embarrassed, and she laughs. She reaches over and runs a hand through your hair and down your face, caressing your lips. She smiles.

"You're honey sweetie baby," she says. "Ok? Not everyone gets called that."

"Honey sweetie baby..." you repeat. Your heart is about to pound through your chest. "Yeah..." That does feel special. She hasn't called anyone else that all night. You're the baby of the party and she's mama, showing you the ropes. Your mind wanders through a series of nonsensical scenes of the two of you as the weed continues to hit.

Before long, it's your turn to smoke again. She lets you handle the bong yourself this time, and cheers when you take a successful hit. You almost melt when she climbs into your lap to take her next hit and lights the bong for your third. You cling to her and let your face fall into her tits, grinning like an idiot. She doesn't stop you, and even lights for you so you don't have to let go. Your brain is in space. So this is why they call it getting high.

After the bong circles around twice more, she stands up out of your lap. "My mouth is dry." she explains, talking as though through water. "C'mon, baby."

You stagger to your feet and grab her arm to follow her into the house. She finds an empty spot on the kitchen counter to lean you against, then navigates through the crowd on her own, returning with two heavily laden red cups. You sip yours and grimace a little. It's a strong drink.

"Whazz in dis?" you ask. It just looks like clear liquid.

" 'Z like...three shots of vodka I thing? And lotsa sprite." She takes a chug from her cup and you follow suit. She must be drinking fast, it looks like there's a little less in hers than yours...

From the front of the room, you hear someone calling out for those who are done with the party. It sounds like they're organizing rides home with a squad of designated DD's. It seemed oddly responsible for a party like this...but maybe that's the way they had to do it to make parties like this work. Whatever. You took another sip of your drink as your friend listened to the announcement closely, then turns to you.

"Oh c'mon, honey, finish your drink." She reaches over and tips your cup back into your mouth, forcing you to chug while she talks. "I like to go home while the party is still bumping, no bad memories and it leaves you wanting more. Only bad and sad things happen at the very end of the party."

You finish the liquid and gasp for air. You want to disagree, you never want the party to end, but you can't pull the words out of your brain to say so. The room feels like a ship at sea, you're not sure where the front door is. Your friend smiles and throws her cup back before grabbing your hand again and pulling you towards...whatever she said she was gonna do. Thinking and remembering is hard right now.

"Hey, we'll take a ride~!" she hollers, waving at the organizer. "We're going to the same place!"

Wait, you are? Thank god. You obediently follow her as the two of you are loaded into the back of an unfamiliar car. You can barely understand words as she gives the driver the address. She buckles both of your seatbelts as he pulls out of the driveway.

You lay in the back of the car with your face in her lap, head spinning, euphoric. You don't know where you're going, but you're drunk and high and you're going with her.

Stay tuned for an epilogue.

#intox #intox kink #my writing

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

!!! List #75 prompts #7 and #9 with hyunjin, han AND the reader !! 🤭

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompts: "It's quiet. Too quie-" "HELLO IS ANYONE IN HERE?!"

"Great, guys. Real discreet."

Members: Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung

Relationship: Figure Skater!FemReader x Hockey Players!HyunSung

Genre: Fluff

"Remember, I'm only doing this because we have a mutual enemy."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, and not for the first time, you think he might be the sassiest bitch you've ever met.

"Yeah, yeah. We get it, Ice Queen. Now will you focus please?"

You huff a breath and adjust your position, stretching as tall as you can to try and reach the window above your head.

Beneath you, Jisung huffs out a choked sounding breath, and you feel him shift, trying to keep you both steady.

"Fuck, I don't know how much longer I can hold you up like this. Hurry up up there!"

You scoff. "Aren't hockey players supposed to be buff or some shit?"

Jisung doesn't answer, grunting in effort as you wobble slightly in your position on his shoulders.

You can't help the smirk that crosses your lips as you fingers finally find the latch, and you push open the window with a triumphant little squeal.

"Got it."

You can practically feel Jisung sigh beneath you in relief.

Hyunjin does a slow, sarcastic clap. "Awesome. Now hurry up and get your ass inside."

"You know-" You retort, shifting upward on Jisung's shoulders once again, enough that you can pull yourself up and halfway over the open window ledge, looking back at the two boys on the ground. "-for someone who is relying on me for this whole plan to work, you'd think you'd be a little nicer."

Hyunjin flips you off, and you bite back a smug grin as they disappear from view, dropping down into the quiet, dark room on the other side of the window.

Crouching for a moment, making sure you can't hear anything besides your quiet breathing, you stand up and, brushing your clothes off, head in the direction of the front entrance, making quick work of the lock when you get there.

Moments later, Jisung and Hyunjin burst through the now open door, duffle bags slung over their shoulders.

They brush past you without so much as a word.

"You're welcome." You mutter sourly under your breath, as you follow them down the long, deserted hallway and toward the ice rink.

Pushing open the door that leads to the ice, Hyunjin pauses, glancing around the empty seats of the rink with narrowed eyes.

"It's quiet. Too quie-"

He's cut off by Jisung stepping boldly onto the ice, cupping his hands around his mouth as he turns in a full, slow circle, calling out loudly, "HELLO?? IS ANYONE IN HERE?!"

You roll your eyes as Hyunjin sighs and rubs at his face with the palm of his hand, Jisung turning back to give you both a triumphant grin as he shrugs.

"See? Totally empty. We're good."

"Oh my god." You huff out, stepping onto the ice to join him, as he slings his duffle bag down and unzips it, noisily rifling through the contents. "Let's just get this over with."

Jisung glances up from where he's crouched, eyes gleaming wickedly. "Don't tell me the Ice Queen has never done anything illegal before?"

You open your mouth to retort, but Hyunjin beats you to the punch, setting his own bag of supplies down next to his buddy as he gives you a narrow eyed glare.

"Of course she hasn't. What about "Little Miss valedictorian stick up her ass daddy's little girl figure skater" screams 'break the law' to you, Sung?"

You glare at him, hoping you can set him on fire with your eyes, and he gives you one last glower in return before crouching down to help Jisung finish pulling out the supplies.

"For your information-" You start, hands on your hips, eyes burning holes into their skulls. "-I've done plenty of illegal things."

"Oh yeah?" Jisung's eyes light up with interest. "Like what?"

Hyunjin tosses you a can of spray paint, and you narrowly avoid dropping it onto the ice at your feet.

"Well, like-" You retort sharply, words drying up as Hyunjin stands and levels you with a knowing look. You humph and turn away from them, muttering under your breath, "-lots of things that aren't your business."

Jisung stands, straightening and stretching, and steps to the center of the ice, wielding a can of spray paint in each hand, a wicked look in his eyes as he grins over at the two of you.

"All right then. Show us what you got."

He marks a bold, black line of paint down the center of the ice rink.

You watch as Hyunjin does a cross line with his bright red paint, and then you step up beside them, hesitantly making a long, sweeping mark of blue paint parallel to Jisung's.

You have to admit, it's kind of freeing in a way.

"That's it, babe. Just like that. Fun, huh?"

Jisung elbows you in some sort of comradery, and you almost smile, before you bite back the knee jerk reaction and glare at him.

Hyunjin finishes his first can of paint and tosses it back into one of the empty bags, fishing out another and tossing a second one to Jisung, who catches it easily.

You all work in silence for a little while, the only sound your shoes squeaking on the ice, the paint leaving the cans, and Jisung humming a stupid little ditty beneath his breath, and eventually, when the cans are all empty, you step back and admire your work.

You have to hand it to you, it's pretty well done.

You've managed to paint your school's mascot onto the rival college's ice rink, complete with some messy line work around it, and it's not half bad. It'll definitely get the message across.

Jisung comes to stand beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, and you don't immediately shrug him off, but you don't know why.

"Nice." He remarks, whistling under his breath.

Hyunjin approaches you both, throwing the last empty cans into the bags before zipping them, and glances up at Jisung.

"Did you put in the secret message?"

Jisung grins with an arch of his brow. "Of course I fucking did."

"Secret message-?" You start to ask, not really sure if you want to know, and then you see it, right in the middle of the crudely drawn mascot.

A penis and a 'fuck you' scrawled in Jisung's sloping handwriting.

You roll your eyes even as the man beside you snickers.

"Great, guys. Real discreet." You mutter, shaking Jisung's lingering arm off you before you stalk toward the edge of the ice, ready to put this whole night behind you.

Honestly, why you even agreed to help two dumbass hockey players in the first place, you'll never know.

Some shitty saying about an 'enemy's enemy' or some other bullshit.

You head for the front door you'd left unlocked, not even bothering to see if the two guys are following behind you, not really caring if they get locked in here honestly, and push out into the cold, middle of the night air.

It feels good, invigorating, in your lungs, and you're reminded of the first time you ever skated, back home on your parent's small, iced over pond.

You'd skated for the joy of it all back then, and you still do, but now, things are heavier, more time consuming, and there's always more pressure.

Part of growing up you guess.

Jisung catches up to you at the bottom of the sidewalk, jogging to reach your side, duffel bag slung back over his shoulder, the empty cans bouncing noisily as he runs.

"Hey, Ice Queen. Wait up!"

You don't look at him as you pull out your phone and check the time.

Fucking 2 AM. God, you're going to regret this tomorrow.

Jisung pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him, and you glare him down.

"What?" You snap, wrenching your arm from his grip, ignoring the warmth of his fingers through your long sleeved shirt. "Why are you still following me? Don't you have stupid hockey things to do?"

You glance over his shoulder, but you don't see Hyunjin.

Jisung ignores your jab, cocking his head as he stares at you, something unreadable coming across his dark eyes that only serves to annoy you more.

"Seriously, dude, can we fucking not-" You start to say, and Jisung interrupts you before you can get the rest of the sentence out.

"Do you want to skate?"

You stare at him, not quite comprehending where he's going with this.

"What?"

"Skate. You know. The thing you seem to love so much?" Jisung mimes a triple toe right there on the sidewalk, and you almost laugh.

"I skate every day." You offer back, glancing over your shoulder, not really sure what he's getting at. "Every day after class at practice and then I-"

Jisung is shaking his head, and Hyunjin appears behind him now, his own duffle bag held in his hands.

"No, not for anyone else. Not for practice. I mean-" He glances over at Hyunjin who arches his brow and then back to you. "-do you want to skate? Right now? For you?"

You narrow your eyes in suspicion, but you have to admit, you're a little bit intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

Hyunjin holds up a set of keys between his fingers and gives you the first smile you've seen all night.

"C'mon, Ice Queen. Live a little. Let's go to the rink."

********************************************************************************

Jisung lets out a loud whoop from the ice, skating around in circles almost lazily, his head tilted back to the ceiling.

"I cannot believe we fucking did that!" He crows, making a figure eight as he skates backward along one of the walls.

You glance up from the bench where you're tightening your skates and roll your eyes at his antics, and you'll never admit it because it would kill you, but it's hot to watch him easily fly around the rink, as if he was born for it.

Hyunjin heaves himself up from the bench beside you with a grunt and picks up a stick before he calls out to Jisung, "Sung, heads up!"

Tossing the stick, Jisung catches it easily, pushing around a puck on the ice as Hyunjin skates over to join him, setting up a mock little scrimmage between the two of them at the far end of the rink.

You take the guards off your skates slowly, one by one, and then stand, stretching out your muscles for a moment before you step onto the shiny, smooth surface of the rink, the ice crisp beneath your blades.

It's like breathing, or riding a bike. Muscle memory immediately kicks in as you push off and begin doing slow, languid laps around the outside of the rink, easily dodging the hockey players and their errant puck.

You close your eyes as you loop back to the center of the rink and drop into a low spin, your arms tucked, your skates carving into the ice as you go round and round and round.

You come out of it perfectly, and immediately move in to a triple axel, and it feels good, to just skate in the quiet for once and let all your thoughts go silent.

You haven't done it in awhile, and you forgot how much you missed it.

You come out of the second loop and skate a figure eight, navigating backward around the rink for a moment before you slide to a stop, catching your breath.

You realize the boys' whoops and ribbing from before has died down, and the rink is quiet.

Glancing over, you see the two of them watching you from beside the net, Jisung leaning against the frame, clearly checking you out, boldly looking you up and down, and Hyunjin trying to be a little more discreet about it, playing with the puck at his feet as he flicks his gaze up and down to you.

"What?" You ask, and you feel lighter than earlier on in the night. You shrug and do a little spin, laughing. "Never seen a figure skater before, hockey boys?"

You're still spinning, when arms grab you around the waist and pull you into a broad chest, forcing you to a stop and making you give a little shriek of surprise.

It's Jisung, looking down at you with wide dark eyes and a stupid grin on his face, and your heart does a weird little skip in your chest.

"Not one as pretty as you, Ice Queen. That's for sure."

You can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks at his words, and you break from his grasp, skating backward away from him, even as he advances toward you, something wicked flashing in his eyes at your teasing.

"I'll make you a bet." You say, just because you can, and Jisung arches a brow in interest, still slowly skating toward you.

"I'll take it."

Your back hits the plastic of the side wall, and you huff out a breath, as Jisung cages you in, arms going on either side of you, staring down at you with something unreadable on his features.

"You don't even know what it is." You protest, voice coming out more breathless than you would have liked.

"I don't have to." He smirks, reaching out to twirl a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Not when it comes to you."

You clear your throat and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest.

"You both learn a spin, and I'll let you teach me something hockey related."

Jisung grins, all wide and heart shaped. "Deal."

You skate back to the center of the rink, Jisung on your heels, and Hyunjin approaches, skating smaller and smaller circles until he comes to a stop in front of the two of you.

He arches a brow. "Well? Are you gonna show us or what?"

You roll your eyes, and drop into the easiest spin you know.

"See?" You straighten back up and put your hands on your hips. "Easy. Try it."

Hyunjin shoots Jisung a look, and the other merely shrugs, before trying to copy your movements.

He falls right on his ass.

You can't help it, you laugh, and he grins up at you from his spot on the ice.

"Coulda swore I had it."

You help him back up, and they both try again, until they've mostly got it right.

You do a little round of applause for them when they both manage it without falling down, and bite back a grin as you regard them.

"I'm impressed, I'll admit it. Didn't think you hockey players had it in you."

"Okay, that's it." Jisung growls playfully, grabbing you and dragging you toward the goal and abandoned sticks as you giggle. "Jinnie, grab a stick. It's our turn now, Ice Queen."

They place you in front of the goal, and Hyunjin offers you his hockey stick, Jisung coming in close behind you and wrapping his arms around you as he shows you where to properly place your hands on the worn, taped surface.

"Like this." His breath is warm on your skin and his voice low in your ear as he guides your fingers a little more to the right. "And then this." He adjusts a knuckle and nods against your shoulder in approval. "You're a natural, babe. A prodigy even."

You snort under your breath, and Hyunjin moves up to shove Jisung aside, taking his place.

"She hasn't even hit anything yet." He mutters under his breath, resting the sharp jut of his chin on your shoulder as he leans forward, and you resist the urge to shiver as his warm breath washes across the shell of your ear. "Okay, ready?"

You nod, trying hard to focus, and let Hyunjin guide the stick along the ice, tapping the puck in the direction of the waiting goal.

It barely touches the net, not enough force behind your hesitant first swing, but Jisung makes adoring crowd noises anyway and claps for you regardless, making you bite back another smile.

"And the crowd goes wild! Ice Queen! Ice Queen! Ice Queen!"

"You're not so bad, you know that, Ice Queen?" Hyunjin murmurs beneath the sound of Jisung's cheering for only you to hear, and you get the weird suspicion that he's not talking about hockey anymore.

It does something strange to the rhythm of your heart in your chest.

You all play around like that for a little longer, the boys helping you hit a few more pucks into the net, you teasing them about their spin formations, but eventually, you gather up your shit, take off your skates, and head for home.

Jisung is locking up the door of the ice rink behind you when Hyunjin steps to your side, glancing at you sidelong as he adjusts the strap of the duffle bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Wanna know something?"

You huff a little snort beneath your breath. "Not really."

Hyunjin gives you an amused look, and you have to force your breathing to remain even as his plush lips-have they always been that pink?-pull upward into the hint of smirk.

He gestures over his shoulder with his chin toward Jisung, who is swearing as he searches for the keys he dropped on the ground by his feet.

"He's been in love with you for like fucking forever."

You stare at him, jaw slack, and then swallow, clearing your throat.

Hyunjin shrugs, hands in his pockets, not looking at you, as he stares off into the dark night sky.

"Yeah. I told him it was a fucking pipe dream to get you to notice him, but the kid's a fucking romantic."

"So tonight-" You start to say, but are interrupted by Jisung appearing at your side, dropping the keys into Hyunjin's bag as he slings an arm around each of your shoulders.

"What're you two lovebirds talking about?" He glances between you and Hyunjin's unreadable expression, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Hyunjin shakes his head, shrugging off his friends arm as he heads toward the parking lot.

"Nothing, man. Absolutely nothing."

You're rooted to the spot for a minute, still mulling over Hyunjin's words, and Jisung whistles long and low beneath his breath, watching his friend disappear on the way to the car.

He turns to you, eyes glinting, and arches a brow.

"He'll never tell you this himself, babe, because manly hockey shit or whatever, but he's down so fucking bad for you."

You gape at him.

Jisung shrugs and starts off down the hill after Hyunjin, calling over his shoulder, "You coming, Ice Queen, or what?"

You shake yourself out of your daze and run after them before they disappear from sight.

#skz #stray kids #stay #ot8 #hockey player skz #jisung #han jisung #han #skz han #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunsung #y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #hyunsung x you #hyunsung x reader #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz crack #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz prompt game #prompt game #fluff #crack #hockey #hockey player au

[curiositydooropened]

Better Off - Part Two

Four years since Argyle's wedding, Robin invited you and the gang to her boss's lake house. Hoping good memories will be made, you're forced to wrestle with some ghosts of your past.

This fic runs in the same Universe as My Whole Life, Too.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Wordcount: 14,132

Warnings: second chance romance, angst, fluff, sex and sex adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), recreational drinking and drug use, mentions of pregnancy and parenthood, mentions of the loss of loved ones

Navigation • Masterlist • Part One

---

Your gaze blurred on ribbons of gold and ivory, stretched and pulled and flipped as a man in candy stripes worked his taffy on its puller. The air smelled sticky sweet of vanilla and lemon and warmth, and you bundled tighter into your sweater with each burst of cold air and ding of a bell at the door. 

Another worker with rolled sweets pressed and smacked them onto the countertop, the scattering of beads pulling your focus and stirring you from your daze. She offered a sample with a kind smile, and you thanked her before popping the sticky sour drop into your mouth. 

It ached at the stress sore just between your teeth and molars, but you supposed you deserved the slight agony. With a sigh, you dropped your shoulders and allowed Robin to shove you gently back to the cobblestones streets, the outside air a misty chill. Large, grey clouds loomed in the distance, the forecasted storm apt weather for your current state of mind. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Robin groaned for the four hundredth time that day.

You managed to plaster on a smile, though you could feel the dishonesty behind it, and gave her a hand squeeze. “Shut up, please.”

“Yeah, Robin, we’re fine,” Nancy agreed sidling up on her other side, that special Nancy-Wheeler-determination etched between her brows. “All of this shit needed to be aired out anyway. You just facilitated it.” 

Robin rolled her eyes. “That makes me feel so much better.” 

You shrugged. “I’m glad it’s all coming out now, when I have you two for support.” 

Nancy’s facade nearly broke then, the glimmer of emotion in her eyes, but she gave a curt nod. “Me too.” 

Robin groaned and started back on your path down the western side of the road. This little lakeside town was full of antique shops and souvenir stores. Every store had something you liked, in a black or navy, or in a Devil red or forest green, smoked charcoal or honeyed yellow. You’d given up a few stores ago now, understanding the Universe was just mocking you. 

Other than the looming storm clouds and the lingering guilt from the night before, you supposed you were having a lovely, if not much-needed girls day. In any other scenario, you’d be delighted to walk such a pristine little village, smelling the early summer buds and tasting at each little eatery along the route. Plus, the company was ideal.

“Robs, I’m coming to visit you immediately, I hope you know,” you linked your arm with hers and fell into step. “You’ll never see me because I’ll spend the entire trip holed up in a bakery, elbow-deep in baguettes, but I’ll be there. You’ll teach me French?” 

“Bien sûr,” she snickered, tugging you into a vintage clothing shop.

The window display had a little black dress á la Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and the place smelled of mothballs and rose-scented perfume. It reminded you a bit of your grandmother, on your mother’s side. She had an oversized hatbox that was passed down to you, chock full of love letters from soldiers in the war.

A similar hatbox sat near the register, pale pink and pressed satin, and you jimmied the top off to see if any secrets lay inside. No love letters, but a collection of multicolored silk scarves. You pulled one from the top, white with thin, navy Breton stripes and tied it around your neck. “What do you think, Robin? Will I fit right in?” 

Robin abandoned her post near an oversized button bin, hands already full, and waggled her eyebrows, dropping her haul to the countertop. “It’s perfect,” she chuckled, caressing it between her thumb and forefinger.

You watched her blue eyes scan your features, smile softening, and eventually her padded shoulders dropped in a sigh.

“You can’t run away to France with me.” 

You smiled at that. “Why not?”

She shook her fringe from her eyes. “Eddie’s not mad at you, you know.”

You swallowed, nodded. “I know. I’m still going to apologize.” 

“And for what it’s worth,” she dug through the box in front of you, avoiding your gaze. “Steve did love you, maybe does love you.” 

You sighed and untied the scarf around your throat, suddenly suffocated by the stuffy air in here. “Steve loves the idea of me.” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, remembering you were talking to his best friend too. “I just mean… I don’t think it’s fair to start something again when I can’t be certain how I’d like to finish it.”

Robin nodded. “I can appreciate that stance. It’s very… mature.” She commented with the flair for dramatics that would put Eddie to shame, pulling a rose-covered scarf from the box with a flourish and tying it around her head.

You snorted.

“Guys,” Nancy’s voice was so meek from the corner of the room, you barely recognized it. When you turned, she was holding the world’s smallest knit sweater, navy blue with a great white whale, and she was crying. 

—

You recognized the calm from ten years of coastal living. That sweet, soft lull in birdsong, the electricity in the air. Clouds blackened the sky, and off-shore docks groaned under whitecaps’ wake. You stood in your room, looking out the tiny window at the billowing tops of trees, fingers idling at the satin ribbon around your neck, Robin’s treat. You couldn’t focus in the silence, only hearing the thrum of your heart against your ribcage. You could sense Eddie in the room next door, could feel smoke and anxiety attached to a string around your finger, reminding you of the atrocities you’d enacted. Calm before the storm.

With a deep breath and a decided snap of tension, you toed out of the room, floorboard creaking with each step toward atonement.

Only, Eddie’s room was empty, door wide, belonging strewn about like he’d moved in. His window was bigger than yours, curtains drawn and window cracked. A cool breeze whipped around your knees, billowing the soft chiffon of your skirt. You sighed and crossed, moving a handmade ashtray from the window sill to the side table. A well-loved copy of A Wizard of Earthsea sat beside the lamp, dog-eared to all Hell. 

You tugged the window down and latched it when something glinted to the North, catching your eye. 

From this vantage, you could just make out the tip of the dock, and the boat in its mooring, rocking mercilessly back and forth. You cursed and turned heel to find Steve waiting in the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes turned up at you like he’d been waiting and didn’t know what to say. 

“Did you guys wind the boat up?” You asked before he had a chance to speak. 

He opened his mouth, brows furrowed, and that was enough of an answer to have you shoving past him and down the staircase to slip into your sneakers and out the front door.

“What are you-?” Robin called out from her cozy spot on the sofa.

You waved her off with a “Be right back!” and let the slap of rubber to wood lead you down the winding staircase, past the patio and fire pit, and to the end of the dock. Halfway there, you heard Steve calling after you, heard his curses, the distinct thud of his own feet on your tail.

The boat swayed under its awning. Steve’s voice was lost on the wind. Waves thrashed against rocky shores.

“Hold that steady!” You called after him, pointing to the bow, and he rushed as instructed, wind whipping at auburn hair, the navy collar of his polo.

The boat had been placed under the dock, tied to a safeguard by a tight rope, but you knew that if it wasn’t cranked upwards and out of the water, the metal casing surrounding it could cause some serious damage, depending on the intensity of the storm. And, as you put all of your strength and effort into cranking the oversized metal wheel, the storm began to show you just how intense it could get.

Wind rushed between your legs, stretched wide for leverage, slicking your skirt to your thighs as the sky opened up and rain began to pour. A deluge of oversized drops, ice cold, that trampled your hair and soaked your skin, slipping your fingers from their handhold. You cursed, but Steve was right there to help, hair stuck to his temples, biceps flexed as he cranked the boat upward and out of the water.

You hated that you couldn’t look away, frigid wet to the bone, standing between Steve and the house, waves spraying the shoreline, unmoving as he stared back at you, blinking away rainwater, licking it from his lips. 

A crack of thunder startled you both, and you ran, slipped on the wet floorboards of the dock to be caught in strong arms, hands that gripped your cardigan at your waist line and pulled you in close, warm, led you to an abandoned beach hut to wait out the storm. 

The space was musty and dark and damp, and you were uncomfortable under skin-slicked clothes, pressed against a splintering wooden bench with molding life vests in neon orange. Steve hovered over you, breath heavy in his warm chest, droplets from his hair shaken into your eyelashes and across the tops of your cheeks. His hands remained on your waist, a tether, a buoy, anchoring himself to you and you to the ground for each roll of thunder from above.

Rain pelted the tin roof too loud to hear the racing of your heart, too loud to hear your own anxiety screaming at you to leave, to run back up the hill to safety, too loud to stop you. 

Steve’s grip tightened on your waist, tugging at the material of your skirt, and the tip of his nose met your temple, ice-cold, in a line. Then his cheek was pressed to yours, stubble and sunscreen. His breath warmed the lobe of your ear. 

You helped him lift you onto the bench, the whole thing wobbling under your weight, but you had faith in his grasp on you, his weight between your legs as he helped to hitch your skirt up one thigh, material tacky to goose-pimpled flesh. His hands were ice-cold, but you were on fire as he trailed fingertips from your hip to your knee, hooking your leg up higher on his hip. 

Another roll of thunder wracked through his shoulders, a quake around your frame that you squaring him to face you. His expression was unreadable, pupils wide, but lips drawn downward, jaw clenched. His far-off gaze lingered on your lips, and he licked his own, pawing at the underside of your thigh.

This was the moment of no return. You knew it. You knew he could feel it. Something deep inside was clawing its way up, trying to remind you of all of the heartache you’d endured in the last four years, but the rain wouldn’t let up, and his hand kneaded your flesh in a way that felt so right, so familiar, felt like home.

You caught his elbow to stop his movements, and he tensed, shoulders receding in defeat, like he’d just been waiting for you to stop him, like his mind had been racing like your own. 

You breathed his name, like a prayer, and his gaze snapped back to yours. “Touch me.”

Drowning your better judgement, you trailed your fingers down the rope of muscles in his forearm to grasp at his wrist and guide his hand to where you needed him most. 

God, it felt like coming home. Steve’s hands were made for you, a perfect form to all of the places you needed him, as if he’d made you himself. You were plaster, and he Michaelangelo. He flattened creases formed over time from wear and stress, and kneaded them smooth and soft. 

He stretched and hit places that had your eyelids alight with stardust, places you hadn’t hit in years. Your fingernails caught on the breadth of his shoulders and the rain against the roof dampened the sinful sounds pouring from each of your open mouths. He worked you like he’d been born to do it, a sailor devoted to a life at sea, or rather returning from too many years landlocked, eager and determined. 

He muttered affirmations hot and damp against the shell of your ear that had you keening, begging for him to keep going, desperate to stay afloat, until the band snapped and the buoy became untethered, rope unraveling within you.

The rainfall slowed and the sunlight fell in shallow waves across patches in the siding. Your breath evened against the damp planes of Steve’s throat. Clarity began to sharpen the softened edges. A chill wracked through you, soaked through, and you forced him from your space. Gently, you hopped from the bench, skirt falling around shaky knees.

The beach hut door opened with a creak, and you stepped out into the sun. 

—

Your eyes remained unfocused on the candlelight, too warm and itchy under an afghan and dry clothes to listen to the nostalgia being shared in the adjacent seating room. You hadn’t left the dining table, reassuring everyone you were fine, just exhausted, when you hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of your dinner. All you could focus on was Steve’s grip around the top of his beer bottle, condensation dripping between the soft pads of his fingers. 

“Hey.”

You startled at the intrusion, and tried to blink away the residual flickers in your eyesight, focusing instead on the forlorn look on Jonathan’s face as he scooted into the seat beside you, offering a chocolate bar. You took it with a soft smile, peeling back the plastic wrapping and hunkering further into your patched blanket.

“Remember last month when we were eating pizza at 3AM, laughing about how crazy this trip would be,” he released that cheeky half-smile you hadn’t seen since he’d heard the news.

You snorted, snapping off a section of chocolate to let melt on your tongue. You rolled your eyes, passing it back for him to break off a piece. “Yeah, how’re you feeling?” 

He sighed, ran a hand down his face, shrugged. You watched him stare into the flame for a while.

When he didn’t speak, you reached your hand out to take his, and he met your gaze again with a wry smile, squeezing your hand. “At least I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.” 

“You will?” You grinned. 

He shrugged. “Unless Nancy wants to move overseas. But if that’s the case, I suppose we’ll just take you with us.” 

Your heart ached at the sentiment, and you felt your emotions start to stick in your throat. He was moving to be with her. He was dropping everything he loved, everything he had, to be with Nancy, wherever her dreams took her. And although that made you wildly happy for them, it also further drove home that ache in the pit of you, that spot that hurt. 

A pair of knuckles wrapped at the doorway, stirring your attention from Jonathan. Nancy and Eddie stood side-by-side, hands shoved into pockets or hid in the sleeves of oversized sweaters. Nancy mumbled a goodnight, tiny frame dwarfed beside the gangly man beside her, both of their curls haloed in candlelight. 

“I’ll go with you,” Jonathan hoisted himself upright, planting a soft kiss to your cheek before he followed Nancy up the winding staircase and into the darkness beyond. 

Eddie lingered, shuffling closer to break a piece off your candy bar on the table. “Hey,” he mumbled. 

“Hey,” you sighed. You hadn’t spoken to him all day. More accurately, you’d been avoiding him all day. 

Another burst of laughter echoed from the living room. Eddie nodded toward the kitchen and moved the chocolate to his cheek to ask, “Wanna chat?” 

With a swallow and a nod, you pulled your chair out from the table and gathered your unfinished dinner plate to follow him into the kitchen, discarding your blanket at your place setting. 

Eddie sidled up to a counter, silhouetted in moonlight, and he stayed silent while you scraped your scraps into the garbage and rinsed your plate. When you were finished, you hoisted yourself to the countertop beside him, shoulder’s hunched, heels kicking at the baseboard cabinet. The light flickered warm from the other rooms, laughter trickling in in intervals of hushed tones. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” you both simultaneously, followed by a snicker of understanding. You elbowed him, and he swayed dramatically, sinking his weight back into you. 

“Shut up,” you scolded. “I’m actually sorry. I was being a dick. You did nothing wrong.” 

“That’s not true,” Eddie countered. “You didn’t deserve what I said. At least, not the way I said it.” 

You sighed and linked your arm with his, resting your head atop his bony shoulder. You felt the press of lips to the crown of your head, his cheek to your hair. 

“You do know I just want you to be happy, right? And that I love you?” 

“I know,” you smiled, tilting your head to kiss at the seam of his band tee. “I love you too.” 

“I, uh…” He raked a hand down his face, callouses catching on stubble. “I talked to Steve today, while you guys were out. He told me what he said to you.” 

You swallowed. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I told him to grow up.”

You pulled yourself upright to see that Cheshire grin poking dimples into pale cheeks.

“And that him hating it just made me want to do you even more. With him watching.” 

“Eddie!” You shoved at his shoulder, and once again he sunk further into you, hiding a cackle behind his hand. “You perv.” 

“Come on, you know he’d be into that.”

Your face heated at the idea. Your mind flashed back to that dark look in Steve’s eyes, in the beach hut, watching you get off on his thick, warm fingers, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the steady rise and fall of his broad chest beneath your palms. 

“I would to,” Eddie elbowed you out of your daydream, and you landed a punch, harder this time.

“Stop!”

He snickered and dodged your next attack, rubbing the sore spot you’d left on his bicep. “You’re fiesty under emotional duress.” He grinned. “What does it say about me that I find that really sexy?” 

“That you need help,” you snorted. 

He caught your wrist and pressed your hand to his sternum, deepening his voice. “Yeah I do, sweetheart.” 

You scoffed as his rumble turned into a laugh, and since you couldn’t take your hand back, you gripped his t-shirt to pull him closer, resting your forehead to his chest. He tucked you under his jaw and released your wrist in favor of wrapping you in a tight hug. Cigarette smoke and sunscreen and rumbled laughter and lithe limbs and still, somehow, it wasn’t enough. Something dammed at your throat, and you clenched every muscle in your body to rid yourself of the anxiety building. 

Eddie began soothing ministrations up and down your spine. “You need to talk to him.” He mumbled into your temple, breath hot and chocolatey against your skin. “I mean, really talk to him. Like just the two of you, hash it out for hours. You get out everything you need to. Let him tell his part. We both know you won’t be able to make a decision until you get everything out on the table and really look at it, as a whole.” 

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Make a decision?” 

He pulled away, pressing soft hands to your cheeks, dark eyes beneath a furrowed brow. “Promise me something?” 

You hummed. 

“Promise me you’ll talk to him sometime this week. It can be right before we leave, for all I care. But I need you to tell me what you figured out before you get on that plane.” 

There was something hopeful in his gaze, features softened to that lost little boy you’d tutored. There were too many meanings behind his words, too many things that spun in your mind and caught somewhere in the ventricles of your heart. “Eddie…” You muttered.

He released your face and wiped nervous hands to his jeans, suddenly shier than you’d seen him in years. “Christ, I didn’t mean it as like an ultimatum or anything. I’m not that guy.” Not like Steve. He scratched at the back of his neck, took a few steps backward. “I just need to know if I need to hide the liquor bottles or if Hawkins’ is getting a new resident.”

God, why did each phrase feel like an extra stab in the gut?

“I’m sorry,” Eddie stammered a laugh, wrapping ringed fingers against the flat plane of his chest. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.” He never drank more than one. 

You reached your hand out, stretched all the way across the gap until the tips of your fingers brushed the silver of his rings. 

He sighed and took your grasp, allowed you to pull him back into you. 

“I promise I’ll talk to him,” you chewed on the inside of you cheek, ducked to catch his gaze. “And I promise I’ll talk to you.”

The dimple tucked into his cheek beside those plump, pink lips, stretched thin in an awkward smile. He nodded. “I’m gonna go to bed.” 

You nodded. “Okay.” 

Then, he leaned to press his lips to yours. It was chaste, soft, a cascade of curls around your face, and lithe fingertips against your cheekbone. Your eyes didn’t have time to flutter closed. Then he was kissing your knuckles and bending his slender frame into a dramatic bow. 

“Goodnight, m’lady.” 

You managed a choked laugh. “Goodnight, Eddie.” 

—

Kneading dough was grounding, cathartic. It made you feel like everything was right in the world. Soft, sticky between flour-caked knuckles, the dull thud against the rolling board, the squeaky wheels of the rolling pin, the sweet smell of apples caramelizing in a nearby mixing bowl, all of it felt like heaven to you. You were at peace with an apron tied around your waist, lakeside wind sweeping in through the opened window, oven making the small space a bit stuffy and warm. 

The others were down at the patio, or out on the water, you weren’t sure. You stayed behind to think, to clear your mind, to distract yourself from the constant tipping of a scale one direction or the other. You’d tossed and turned all night thinking of Steve’s hands and Eddie’s lips and the complications to your life that each one brought. So you decided midmorning should be spent centering yourself, alone with your craft, and at peace.

You’d pressed the dough into its tin, trimming the edges and balling the scraps to be rolled and cut into strips for a lattice work top. You poured the apple slice mixture, all cinnamon and sugar and nutmeg and clove, watching the sun sparkle against their wet flesh. You indulged in licking the spoon, tangy and sticky. Then you sprinkled flour to your surface again to start rolling out the remaining dough, humming to yourself as the birds chirped outside. 

You flattened and cut and worked a lattice and ate the scraps, admiring your handiwork before you placed it into the oven and set the little wind-up timer on the stovetop. It was shaped like an egg. Your mom had one when you were young. It disappeared somewhere over time, or in the move. You contemplated stealing this one. 

You poured yourself some fresh-squeezed lemonade, tart and sweet, and leaned yourself against the countertop. You watched the sparkle of waves just off-shore and sipped and tried not to allow your mind to wander until the subject of your wandering mind entered your kitchen with mussed hair and sun kissed skin, pulling expensive sunglasses from the freckled bridge of his nose. 

“Smells amazing,” Steve smiled, reaching past you for a glass to pour himself some lemonade. You watched his forearm handle the full pitcher with care. You watched the length of his throat as he drank. You watched his tongue dart to lick a drop from the corner of pink lips. He set himself against the counter opposite you, ten feet away and still too close.

“Where’s everyone else?” You asked, praying for Robin to come prancing in with a bucket of ice cold water.

“On the boat. They just left.” He set his glass beside him. “We should talk about yesterday.” 

You turned to start the washing up, sink full of mixing bowls and measuring cups. The counter was white with flour. You turned the tap on hot, and the rushing of water into a metal sink had your brain buzzing with images of rain against the tin roof of the hut. You swallowed. “Yesterday was a mistake.”

You weren’t even sure you said it out loud, didn’t dare look to him for confirmation. You just held your front two fingers under the water to gauge temperature, although to be honest, you wouldn’t be able to tell scalding from freezing right now anyway. 

“Sure, yeah, totally,” his tone was oddly light. Out of your peripherals, you caught him entering your space, sidling up to the opposite side of you now. He smelled of expensive cologne, deliciously Steve. “Or… we could just make some adjustments to our truce.” 

You looked up at him then, caught breathless by the dark look in his eyes. You swallowed. “What?” 

He shrugged, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Well, we agreed to be civil and not bring up the past.” He held your gaze. “We only have a couple of days left. Might as well… I don’t know, make the most of it?” His jaw was firm, but there was something playful in his tone, a fire behind his eyes you hadn’t seen in years. 

You scoffed. “You’re serious?” 

He shrugged again, leaned into your space to brush flour from your shoulder, sweeping your hair back as he did so. God, he was good. “You had fun, didn’t you?” 

“Steve,” you peeled yourself away, scrubbing melted sugar from the rim of a measuring cup.

“Come on,” he boxed you in, his frame folding around yours, warm and broad and strong. “You’re on vacation.” The tip of his nose found the shell of your ear, sending sparks from skull to tailbone. “You deserve to relax, babe.”

Babe. So flippant, so casual. It’s what he called you, before, when it was just the two of you playing house in hotel rooms. You elbowed him off of you, grateful when he respected your boundaries and stood a few more feet away.

With a sigh, you turned off the faucet, only the singular measuring cup squeaky clean. You dried your hands on a hand towel embroidered with dairy cow and its milkmaid, and you turned to face Steve.

He had a fantastic pokerface, to add to the list of vast differences between he and his housemate. Where Eddie showed every last thought that came into his mind, Steve remained stoic, strong brow furrowed, jaw tight, keen eyes watching your every movement. He kept his shoulders squared, but lax, and his strong arms kept him upright against the lip of the counter, strong arms you were desperate to have wrapped around you again. 

“Be civil, no bringing up the past, and have fun while it lasts,” you agreed before your brain caught up with your words. 

All at once, Steve crowded your space again, pressing your backside to the damp countertop, an arm to either side of your hips, dipping his nose to meet yours.

You pressed your fingertips to his chest to push him away a few more inches. “Don’t call me babe.” 

His lips split into a grin at that, and he chuckled a low rumble in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”

He was eager, so eager, and you felt the buzz in your waist, the flutter under your sternum. You watched his tongue wet soft, pink lips, and were suddenly reminded of the third grade, of Tommy H.’s birthday, of the surprise smooch in a treehouse and of wanting to savor that kiss for the rest of your life. As Steve dipped his head low once more, you turned to face the oven, ducking away.

“And I’m not going to kiss you.” An odd boundary you didn’t know you had until it was there, presenting itself in a panic clawing at your chest. You just knew if you kissed him, you’d be done for. You’d be packing everything you owned into a U-haul and signing the lease next to his name. Just like Eddie said. 

Steve’s stoic facade seemed to falter for a split second before he nodded and pulled away. He eyed you for a beat too long before he lowered his voice to ask, “Am I allowed to kiss you?” And the implications in his tone had your knees weakening. 

You swallowed in a vain attempt to lubricated a parched throat, and nodded.

He emitted a groan from somewhere deep, and you bit down hard on your lip as you watched King Steve Harrington sink to his knees before you, hands traveling up your skirt to knead at the flesh of your thighs like it grounded him, like it made everything right in the world. 

He tugged your shirt free from the waistband of your apron and skirt, watching you, amber eyes painted black. His breath was hot against your stomach, your hip bone. “Can you see the front door?” He asked.

You peeled your gaze from him to look through the entry way to the front door. You nodded. 

“Good. Keep watch for me, sweet girl.” 

— 

“Scale of 1-10, how hot do I look?” Robin did a pose, hair stuffed under a wide-brimmed hat and blue blazer sleeves rolled. 

“Ten,” you and Nancy affirmed simultaneously, blotting your own pink lipsticks in the full-length mirror on the back of Robin’s bedroom door. You wore a low-cut blouse with flowy sleeves, and Nancy looked sleek in black, and she helped stick a bobby pin into your scalp when a curl threatened to fall out of place. 

“What are the odds there’s a single, hot lesbian looking for a hook up?”

“At a country western bar?” Nancy peered back at your friend, and you chuckled. 

“Robin,” you reassured. “I promise there will be at least one single, hot lesbian looking for a hook up.” 

Robin sighed. “Yeah. Me.” 

She’d picked the venue for your night out, spotted it on your walk through town the previous morning, and convinced the group to go after their late evening naps. The sky had started to soak in peaches and golds, and the warmth had cooled from a breeze that billowed curtains and chilled your fevered cheeks. You’d spent the day distracted, praying no one would notice the smile that ached at the corners of your lips. You were thankful for the excuse to be chipper.

“Ladies, I need advice,” Argyle called from beyond the door, and you gently led Nancy to the side so you could open it to meet him. He wore a leather vest with a spearmint button-up beneath it, and in his hands were two ties, one a shocking pink, the other a bolo with a cubic design in brass. 

“Bolo, always,” you confirmed. 

“That’s what I said!” Eddie called from the next room over. 

“Alright,” Argyle nodded and toed back to his own room to put his tie on in a mirror. 

Nancy slipped out beside you to meet Jonathan at the top of the stairs. Your heart ached in your chest when you watched his lips meet her temple, and his hand slip into hers. They shared sweet words and walked down the stairs together. 

Robin shoved past you. “Sorry, gotta brush my teeth. Will you check on Steve for me? You know he always takes the longest.” 

You stood in her doorway for a long moment, staring at the wood of Steve’s bedroom door from across the hall. Your hands clammed up at your sides, but you released a held breath and closed the distance to wrap your knuckles against the panels. 

“Come in,” he called from inside, and you turned the handle and pushed yourself inside.

Steve’s room was a mirror of your own, window facing the water, slanted ceiling, headboard against the opposite wall. His bed was neatly made, pillows stacked at attention just like his mom taught him. The bedside lamp illuminated everything soft and warm.

Steve stood at a dresser putting on his watch, forest green polo taught over the muscles of his back. He glanced up at you when you entered, cheeks turning up in a grin. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you breathed back, propping yourself against the wall beside the door. “Robin wanted me to tell you to hurry up.” 

“I’m ready,” he held his hands out to show himself off, and you admired the stretch of denim across his thighs. 

“You look good,” you affirmed, swallowing when he closed the distance between you, eyes flickering to the hallway just to your right hand side. 

When the coast was apparently clear, he placed a hand on your waist. “So do you. Tonight should be fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you nodded. You felt giddy again, like he had you pressed up against the school lockers, hiding from the principal between classes. 

“Yeah?” His voice graveled, and he pressed himself even closer, wedging his thigh between your legs. 

“Dingus! You ready or what?” Robin shouted, and all at once, Steve was gone, his warmth replaced by cool breeze. 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he groaned, fidgeting with the watch at his wrist. “Thanks for the help,” he waved it your direction, and you furrowed your brow before noticing Robin’s head poked through the doorway. 

She narrowed her eyes your direction, but grabbed Steve’s other wrist to lead him out and down the stairs. 

You took a minute to calibrate, a few calming breaths, before you followed them. When you rounded into the hallway, you startled at the sight of Eddie in his own doorway, lithe frame covered in black, damp curls hung in his eyes. That dimple carved deep into his cheek. 

“You look smoking hot,” he greeted. 

You rolled your eyes but hooked your hand into his elbow and let him escort you down the stairs to meet the others. 

—

Tequila was great after the initial burn. Once the tang of lime shocked your taste buds, you were smooth sailing. The music was live and loud. The room filled with smoke and the sweet smell of alcohol. Wooden walls were lined with neon beer logos and antlers. A dart board sat in one corner, a pool table in another. You were warmed from the inside, tingling fingertips and toes. 

The first round alone had you doing things you ought not, like catching Steve’s gaze over the top of Nancy’s head. He’d been staring, lips glossy and eyes hungry, and you couldn’t look away until Argyle bought round two.

Round three had you on the dance floor, pressed against the warm rumble of Eddie’s chest while he hummed a balad just under the crooning of the band’s lead singer. Flirting with Eddie was another thing you ought not do, but holding back felt impossible, tequila or no. Especially when he held you so close, thigh between your knees, swaying you back and forth to some slow and sultry tune. 

“Have I told you you look smoking hot tonight?” He indulged in another rake of your features, not shy from peaking down your blouse.

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth to avoid the smile aching at them and managed to shrug. “Might’ve mentioned it.” 

He chuckled, shaking his hair from his eyes. “Yeah, I like that top.” 

“I look better without it,” you countered, cocking a brow.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” His dark eyes shone under dim lighting, and his plump lips turned up at the corners. He was all curls, cigarettes and spearmint, and something in his eyes sank your heart. It was Eddie’s heart on his sleeve again, that poker face slipping just long enough to show you the longing beyond the lust. 

You swallowed and placed a hand to his cheek, thumbing over scruff and stubble. His name caught in your throat. 

“Song’s almost over,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose with yours. “Do you trust me?” 

You nodded, and the air was expelled from your lungs when he dipped you low. He gripped your thigh at his waist, and you felt the trail of his nose up your sternum and throat as he pulled you upright, breathless and warmed.

Your audience whooped and hollered from their high-top.

Stage shy, you allowed Eddie to take your hand and tug you back to the table. His grip was strong, thumb administering distraction circles upon your wrist. Nancy slid you a full glass of iced water, and you thanked her for it.

“Okay, why the fuck are you both so hot?” Robin scoffed, chugging her own red plastic cup of water.

“Born this way, Buckley. Don’t act so shocked.” Eddie reached over to flick her forehead, and she swatted at him.

“She’s right though,” Jonathan pitched in, saucy grin playing on boyish features. He slung an arm around Nancy’s shoulder, and she grimaced before shoving him off. 

“Yeah, you guys should make a porno,” Argyle nodded, mustache turned down in thought before he snapped his fingers. “Baker and the Beast.” 

“Jesus Christ,” you snorted, thankful for the water to hide your warming face. You took a long drink, praying for the ice to cool you down. 

“Sex Dungeon Master,” Robin chimed in, and you nearly did a spit take. 

“Full Metal Banging,��� Steve piped in to everyone’s surprise. You looked up at him to see a playful smirk across those sinful lips, and he shrugged, nodded, took another sip of his beer. “I’d watch it.” Something in you ached at the low tones of his voice. 

Eddie shook a ringed finger Steve’s direction. “I fucking knew it! I knew you liked to watch. Harrington, you dirty dog!” 

Steve merely shrugged, pokerface stoic again while his eyes offered you something more salacious. You wondered if the rest of them caught him staring the way you did, wondered if they could tell what transpired between the two of you in the beach hut, in the kitchen. 

A new song kicked on, much faster, more familiar than the last, and Eddie finally released your hand, now cold and clammy, to snap his fingers in Robin’s direction. “Come on, Buckley. Your turn.” 

Robin sighed and extended a hand for him to take. “Fine, but no cleavage licking.” 

“Come on,” Eddie whined, and before they trailed off to the dance floor, you heard him say, “I washed my tits before we came!” 

You laughed and fell into a spot beside Nancy, avoiding Steve’s gaze as you drank your water and attempted to sober yourself up. Maybe three was your limit, maybe two, but you felt just primed enough to give away all of your secrets. 

“Nancy,” Argyle stood from his seat and tightened the bolo around his neck. “May I have this dance?” 

Before the warmth of Nancy beside you had been replaced by air conditioning and the smell of stale beer, a strong hand had slipped itself between your knuckles. 

“Jonathan, watch the table,” Steve said, pulling you onto the dance floor. 

Under a swirl of lights, and to the fast rhythm of bass and drums, you were tucked close to Steve’s front and backed toward the center of the dance floor. People swung and dipped around you, and Steve bobbed and weaved your way through them with laughter rumbling deep in his chest. God, you missed that sound. 

He was wildly off tempo, and a little off-balance, but maybe that was the tequila affecting your equilibrium. He had one hand to the small of your back, the other swinging wildly, and he stepped on your toes more than once. 

“You’re a terrible dancer,” you leaned in to shout into the shell of his ear. 

He pulled back to shoot you an incredulous look before pulling you in close again, breath hot on the side of your face. “You taught me how to dance.”

You shook your head, but released a laugh that bubbled high in your chest. “I did not!” 

“Yes you did,” he argued. “At prom. I told you I didn’t know how to dance, and you promised you’d teach me. So if I’m horrible, that’s on you.” 

You smiled into his chest, and allowed your mind to wander. You wondered what she would think of you now, senior-you, prom-going-you. You wondered how she’d feel, swept around a dance floor in King Steve’s arms all these years later. 

You could still remember walking down the staircase to meet him. You could still see the flush of his cheeks when he saw you, could remember the distinct kick of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, dingus!” Robin’s voice sliced through your memories. You blinked back into focus to find her and Eddie beside you. Eddie was using Robin’s hand to swat at Steve’s side. 

“Will you two grow up?” Steve scolded, ever the dad of the group.

“We have a question for you two,” she ignored him, continuing to prod at his bicep and then yours when he spun you to use as a human shield.

“What?” You laughed. 

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” Robin’s voice carried over the music, swam in your head, heated you from the inside out as you felt the stares of intrigue from your dance partner and hers.

You snorted, shook your head, and avoided their gaze. “Yeah, I’m not answering that.”

Robin booed you.

“You’re so drunk!” You laughed.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned, sidling up beside Steve. He had mischief in his eyes. “We can handle it.” 

Steve squared up then, stopped your sway, and his mouth stretched into an equally devilish grin. “Yeah, Munson can handle it.” 

You cocked a brow, still in Steve’s grasp, and looked straight into Eddie’s big, brown eyes, conjuring a memory you knew would earn a reaction from the both of them. “Campsite at the coast? Back of the car?” 

Eddie nodded, big, dramatic, hair swinging in front of his face. He pointed at Robin. “That’s what I said!”

“Holy shit, Harrington, you want some ice for that burn?” Robin cackled, high-fiving you and Eddie both.

When you found Steve’s gaze again, he was blinking back at you, mouth slightly ajar. You tried and failed to bite back the giggle that bubbled in your chest, doubling over into his stunned chest while you wheezed a laugh, tequila taking over. 

You heard Robin and Eddie yell run and squeal beside you, and when you looked up, they were spinning manically away. Steve’s mouth had closed, and he licked at his molars, nodding slowly. You worried for half a second before the corner of his mouth turned up, and he spun you away and back. You yelped, narrowly avoiding a speaker.

You crashed into his chest and laughed the tune of his own rhythmic chuckle, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to hold yourself steady. 

“If I had known this is what it’d take to make you happy, I’d have gone down on you at the beginning of the week,” Steve grinned.

“Steve!” You admonished, glancing around to make sure no one was around to hear what he’d said. You were far from the table now, and definitely out of earshot. 

“Tell me about the campsite.” When you met his gaze again, it was that same delicious look that set you on fire from the inside out, unwavering.

You breathed his name again, faltering a little on your feet, but he caught you. 

“Come on,” he swayed your hips in his hands. “I gotta study my competition if I want to know how to come out on top.”

You licked your lips, searched his honeyed eyes for any sign of a trap, but he was just as tipsy as you were. Tequila painted the hollows of his cheeks pink. “It was the middle of the day. Campers everywhere. We had to be quiet.”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His grip on your waist tightened, and he pulled you impossibly closer. You could feel every ripple of muscle beneath the luxurious fabric of his top. He looked around the room before his eyes trailed your face, your lips, down the front of your blouse and back. “This is a room full of people, and the music’s so loud you wouldn’t have to be quiet.”

His words sent heat through you.“You’re drunk,” you sucked in a smile and glanced back across the room at Jonathan drooping in his seat, a soft smile on his face as he watched Nancy and Argyle dance. Robin and Eddie twirled and dipped in a far-off corner.

Steve pressed the tip of his nose to the baby hairs at your forehead. “So take advantage of me.”

In that moment, you realized Steve Harrington could be dangerous, commanding, a force to be reckoned with. 

—

The hot, sticky glow of three shots of tequila faded to heart palpitations and a burn in your calves. Though, that could be the dancing, the grin that ached at your features, the early morning burrito, or the anticipation that kept you buzzing, bouncing the balls of your bare feet against floorboards while you counted the creaks and footsteps outside your door. 

You turned in earlier than the others, feigning exhaustion related to old age, just to prop yourself against the headboard for nearly an hour before the raucous laughter died down beneath you and the sounds of your compatriots readying themselves for bed filtered in under your bedroom door. 

Anxiety replaced that warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You listened to Robin’s hiccups on high-alert, pulse thudding to her steady rhythm. You toed to the door, pressed your ear to the wood to listen to the mutterings of goodnight, the faucet running in the bathroom, the steady pad of feet just beyond. 

Your hand hovered over the lock on your brass knob, but you snatched it away, pacing to the foot of your bed and back. Once, twice, three times. You caught your reflection in a mirror above the bedside. You’d left your makeup on, curled hair falling around your shoulders in tendrils. The bra you wore beneath an oversized t-shirt pinched at the skin under your arm, but it was the prettiest you’d packed in periwinkle lace to match the panties hiding beneath plaid night shorts. 

You were making a mistake. Throat dry, you crossed back to the door, reaching for the knob to lock it and turn yourself in for the night. 

The cool brass turned under your touch, and the door swung your way, narrow, allowing a shadowed figure to step into the honeyed glow of your bedside lamp. 

“Hi,” Steve smiled, towering over you, breath fresh and hair mussed.

You swallowed. “Hi.” 

“Sorry,” he hissed, closing the door behind himself. The click emitted feather-light. “Robin wouldn’t let us go to bed. I was worried you fell asleep.” 

You shook your head, managed a weak smile. “Nope.” 

“Good,” he said. “Are you cold?” His warm fingertips ghosted the skin beneath the hem of your shorts, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. 

You shivered, shook your head again, allowing your eyelids to go heavy as his other hand came to cradle to your cheek. 

“Do you still want to do this?”

He had the power to see right through you, always had. You released a shaky breath, shoulders to your ears in a shrug. You swallowed. “I don’t know.” Honesty spilled out. You hadn’t felt this vulnerable with him since Louisville, not this nervous, not this jittery. 

A crease tucked between his brows, and he dropped his hand from your thigh to catch your fingertips in his. “I’m not going to push you.” 

“I know,” you squeezed his knuckles, hands dwarfing yours. “You never have.” 

He smiled at that, nodded toward the bed. “Want to just hang out?” 

You nodded and drew him to soft covers and an old mattress. It sunk under your weight, a burst of air puffing out between you as Steve plopped himself down, hands resting on his chest, hair splayed against patchwork. You were drawn to him, fingers itching to run themselves through his hair, to trace the bridge of his nose, connect-the-dots with his freckles, but you hesitated, tucking your knees to your chest. 

He turned his head to look at you, lazy smile crossing beautiful, dark features. “I’m glad I sobered up.” 

“Yeah?” You were on the fence.

“Yeah.” He groped around the blankets until he found your hand at your side. He massaged at your wrist, your palm, wide stroke with his thumb that smoothed aching joints and eased your mind. He pulled you ever-closer, before trailing your pointer finger over the bridge of his nose. His lashes fluttered closed, and he hummed as you painted his cheekbones with your fingertips, catching on the stubble of his jaw. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” you whispered. He brought your fingertips to his lip, soft and pink and damp. You exhaled his name. 

He looked at you then, eyes dark, and placed a kiss to your palm, your wrist, the flesh of your forearm, tugging you gently from your fold until you leaned over him, your hair a curtain separating you both from the glow of the bedside lamp. “Do you want me to leave?” 

Your throat was dry, your breath staggered. You shook your head. 

Steve’s hands found your waist, smooth dregs of his palms up your ribcage until his thumbs met the underwire of your bra. “Do you want me to stay?” 

You nodded, sucking in a breath when his hands worked higher, palming at silk and lace.

“I need to hear you say it, babe,” his voice was hoarse, thick.

You faltered on the pet name, a rule broken, his eyelids heavy, warm hands on your breasts, but you didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to worry or panic. So you washed it all away, pushed guilt to the back of your mind, and threw a leg over him to straddle his slender waist. “I want you, Steve.”

He sat up, pushing you both upright to drag the soft cotton of your top up and over your head. He groaned at the sight of you, and you felt his lips find purchase at the crux of your throat and shoulder, his mouth wet and warm. 

You sunk your fingertips into his scalp, indulging in the vibrations of his voice against your skin. 

He pushed the lacy straps down your arms, pressing soft kisses into the bits of flesh that were creased and red. He reached around to undo the clasp, and relief flooded your waist from where the elastic bit at your skin. You released him, allowing the scratchy fabric to fall to the ground at the bedside, and Steve lowered himself back to the mattress. 

You felt self-conscious, suddenly, as he drank you in, hands ghosting the bits of your flesh that were marred or torn, burn-scarred, pock-marked. You wondered if you’d aged since he last saw you like this, if you had more wrinkles, more pudge, if the weight of you sank different onto his slender hips. You wondered if your boobs sagged, if the flesh of your thighs doubled over your panty line. 

Steve’s eyes didn’t give anything away as he raked your frame, hands molding to you like they were meant to, and after too long of a moment, he spoke. “Shit, babe. My memory doesn’t do you justice. You’re fucking perfect.” 

A chill caught on your spine, a chuckle of embarrassment building at the compliment, and you folded yourself back to him, squirming under the scrutiny. “You think about me often, Harrington?”

His nose brushed yours in a nod, and he palmed the swell of your thighs beneath your shorts, grinding you down onto him. “Every single day.”

The honesty stuttered your breath, his fanning your lips, and you knew if you didn’t back away now, you’d be lost to him. As he leaned forward to close the gap, you turned your head, cursing yourself when soft lips met your cheekbone. 

You avoided his gaze, moving instead to press a kiss to his jaw. Stubble scratched your lips, you chin. You nosed at his throat until he turned his head, and you wrapped your lips to his soft earlobe, delighting in the rumble of his chest against yours. 

His hips snapped into you once more, hardened length pressed to the inseam of your thigh. 

“Then we better give you something to remember,” you hissed into his ear.

Before you could act on your promise, Steve had you rolled over, pinning you to the bed with his hips. His lips were on you, hands kneading, frantic, eager. He pressed himself upright to strip his t-shirt, collar first, and when it hit the ground, you both heard the pad of footsteps on the floorboards outside.

You froze, suddenly remembering where you were, who occupied the room all around you. Your pulse thundered in your skull, anxiety licking at every inch of you, until you felt Steve Harrington’s perfect teeth graze your nipple and everything coursed through you like livewire. 

“Can you be quiet for me?” He hissed to your skin, gathering your wrists to pin above your head, and you gave a fervent nod, swallowing the saliva flooding your mouth. 

Steve was trouble, danger, desperate kneading hands and the rhythmic snap of hips. He was brute strength and roped muscles and demanding. He worshiped and praised God and you and mumbled praises into the crux of your throat, your sternum, building you to the highest high before crashing down on you like a wave. 

Even after all this time, he knew how to work you, how to mold you, bend you, command you in hushed tones, hand over your mouth to keep your sinful sounds from spilling between his fingers. He delighted in the challenge, wanted you begging but silent, asking if you wanted more, asking if it was good with his chin to your shoulder, your face buried into his to muffle your moans.

He was strong, confident, delicious, salt-to-the-wounds and salt of the Earth, and you fell apart on his hands, his lips, the crash of his hips like waves across a rocky shoreline. Your eyelids sparkled, the ceiling spotted with starlight, and you came down with the weight of his head on your chest.

Steve placed a chaste kiss to your collarbone and looked up at you, a smug grin etched upon his features. He rolled himself to the side, breath ragged. You closed your eyes and listened to the deep in-and-out, trying to match your inhales with his, to slow your heart rate, to stop the pulsing of every muscle now aching in your body. 

“How was that?” He whispered into your neck, turning to wrap his arm tightly around your waist.

You huffed a laugh, shrugged. “Top five, at least.”

He gnawed at your throat and squeezed you tighter into him, both of your bodies sticky with sweat. 

Sleep tempted you, darkening your vision, weighing you further and further into the warm squish of the mattress and your pillow. Steve’s breathing calmed against your back, his nose tucked under the shell of your ear, and you wondered if you’d fallen asleep so easily in the last four years. 

Steve muttered your name, and you hummed, drifting on the edge of bliss. “I do still think about you every day.”

And you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t broken the spell, wish he hadn’t reminded you why you were here, what this was all about. The moonlight filtered in through treetops out the window beyond, and you tucked the blanket higher around your shoulders. Maybe there was no harm in late night truths whispered between lovers. 

“The campsite wasn’t the best ever,” you confessed, voice weak. Steve loosened his cradle. You turned to face the ceiling, staring up at vaulted shadows. “Remember that first night in Louisville? I hadn’t seen you in so long, and we were tiptoeing around each other all night, but then the door’s closed in that elevator…” 

Steve had propped himself up beside you, cupped your cheek. You felt the soft pad of his thumb against your lower lip. “I really want to kiss you.”

The only rule left to be broken, and your heart ached for it. You took a deep breath and avoided his gaze. You couldn’t do this to yourself again, couldn’t do it to him. It was selfish of both of you. You slipped from his grasp and out of the covers, digging through the dark for your t-shirt and sleep shorts. “The other’s will be awake soon.”

—

The sun cast the tops of your cheeks and nose in warmth, golden light filtering through your eyelids while you bathed in a lounger, allowing your Munson-special pancakes to settle. Your friends seemingly revived from breakfast, splashed a level below you, voices and laughter filtering up the wooden walkway. You battled the melancholy of your final full day with memories from the night before that had a smile aching at your lips. 

You sighed and let your mind drift to the weight of Steve’s body against yours, the slam of his hips, the tight grasp of his hand to your wrists above your head. 

“I’m heading up to take a shower,” his voice sliced through your daydream, graveled from a late night. “You guys need the bathroom before I go up?” 

Nancy shook her head beside you, glancing up at him from above the sunglasses perched on the soft bridge of her nose. 

Steve looked to you, and you squirmed under his gaze, shaking your own head with a smile. “Kay,” he smiled back. “Be back in a bit.” And you couldn’t resist in watching the slope of his thighs as he climbed the hill beside you to walk into the house.

“Holy fucking shit,” Nancy slammed her book down on her lounger.

You jumped and sat upright, glancing around you for something to cause her reaction, a giant bee, a severed arm. 

“You slept with Steve.” 

You halted your search and slowly met Nancy’s gaze. Her lips were pursed, and there was something twisted in the way she looked at you, like she was both pissed and proud she’d cracked the case.

You cowered under her gaze, picking at a sliver in the lounger, and fumbled through an excuse. “I don’t know what - ”

“Don’t bullshit me,” she snapped. “I saw him walking out of your room at 5AM when I got up to puke, and that little exchange you two just had confirmed it.” She waved her finger in the air to exemplify her point. 

You felt your face heat. You didn’t appreciate the accusation in her tone. “Okay, so? We’re consenting adults.” 

Nancy stuffed her arms under her armpits and turned to face you. “So are the two of you back together?” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, the ragged rate of your breath speeding your pulse, or maybe it was the other way around. “No,” you huffed. “We’re just having fun while we’re here.” 

Nancy rolled her eyes. 

“Hey, no, don’t come at me with that. What about you and Jonathan, huh? Or should I say Robbie?” It was a low blow, and the moment it fell from your lips, you wish you could it all back. 

Nancy sucked her lips between her perfect teeth and turned back in her sun lounger, hands flattening against her lower abdomen. “Yeah, well we learned our lesson, didn’t we?” 

You blanched at the thought and shook your hair from your eyes. “Jesus, Nancy. I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

She didn’t respond for a long minute, looking out on the water, listening to the chirp of birds along the tree line. Then, she turned her head to face you, sun sparkling off the chrome tint of her sunglasses. “Do you remember that summer after Louisville? That night out on the Cape, just us girls?”

You barely remembered it, a drunken night out in a bar where everything smelled like the country club Steve’s parents frequented. You remembered sequins sticking to your face on a tiled floor. You remembered watching couples spin on a dance floor and wanting to splash your drink in the face of every single one of them. You remember feeling empty, broken, lost. 

“I don’t think I realized how in love you two were before then.” She continued, turning back to sunbathe, as if this was the easiest breeziest of topics. “I mean, I knew you were close. You always spoke about him like family. And we all knew you were fucking, even though you tried to hide it.” She raised an eyebrow at you. 

You swallowed.

“But that night’s when I realized how heartbroken you were.”

You closed your eyes, released a shaky breath, tried to maintain the happy memories that were quickly slipping from between your fingers, an anchor of your past traumas rocketing you to the bottom. 

“I can’t begin to imagine how he felt.”

“Nancy,” you chided, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Come on,” she argued. “He won the fucking jackpot with you. Plus, he’d been burned too many times by other self-hating idiots to let himself get close enough to you. That’s why he never asked you to be his girlfriend, why he never left Hawkins to be with you. He was terrified you’d bail, and then he realizes he can’t live without you and what do you go and do?” 

That hit somewhere deep, a dull ache that spread like hot liquid through your chest. “I didn’t…” 

“Of course you didn’t know,” she muttered, offering an innocuous wave to Jonathan who swung his arms in the air from the level beneath you, perched atop Argyle’s shoulders in the shallow water, Robin atop Eddie. “You guys haven’t talked in four years. And it wasn’t my job to tell you. My job, as the best friend, is to tell you you don’t need him. That you’re strong and beautiful and independent. My job is to cheer you on through your accomplishments and listen about your escapades with new and exciting men.”

God, you loved her, and you didn’t want to cry because she was right, you were strong and confident and independent, and you didn’t want to cry because Nancy wouldn’t cry, but you couldn’t help the emotion damming at your throat.

“He was supposed to tell you all of this, but clearly you two are incapable of communication.” She sat upright in her chair again and scoffed. “You know what? No. You’re going to talk to him, right now.” 

You blinked, heart racing at the idea. “What? No.” 

Nancy stood from her seat and grabbed you around the elbow, hoisting you upright. “Yes, right now. I’ll distract everyone else. This can’t go on any longer, or we’re all going to implode. You’re going into that house, and you’re going to hear his side of it. Because we all know you won’t be able to make a decision until you do.” 

—

The floorboards creaked under your weight, a groan at each step to remind you of where you were going. Your bare feet, sun soaked, stuck to the finish. A breeze caught gossamer window dressing, but did nothing for the slick of sweat beading your upper lip, the creases of your palm, your lower back. The steam from Steve’s shower framed the bathroom mirror and permeated the upper floor with his scent, squeaky clean and expensive. 

Your hands trembled against the surface of his bedroom door. You heard the shuffle of fabric on the other side, and a low, soft hum. You’d almost forgotten that about him, the way he sang when he thought no one was around. If he had an ear worm, or just felt happy about something.

You took a deep breath, pressed your forehead to the door, and knocked.

“Yeah, come in,” he called, and then “Hello?” after your lengthy hesitation. 

You turned the brass knob and entered, clicking the door behind yourself. Steve stood across the room, nearest the window, tugging at his watch straps again. His white t-shirt was speckled grey across his shoulders where his hair had dripped into a freckled pattern. When he saw you, his honeyed eyes lit with recognition, something hungry in them.

“Hi,” you managed, and there must have been sheer terror in your eyes because Steve’s face flashed with alarm, and he made a slow cross your way.

“What’s wrong?” His tone reminded you of too many late night phone calls, his voice keeping the nightmares at bay. 

You swallowed, allowed him to lead you to the edge of the bed, felt his fingers slot into yours, tried to ignore how soothed you felt already. “We need to talk about Louisville.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before he turned his attention to your hand in his, tracing your knuckles, brushing a thumb over your nails. “What about it?” 

“I want to know what happened,” you sighed, allowing yourself to flop backwards onto a hand knit throw, the mattress swishing beneath you. “I want to know where it all went wrong, why I lost you. I guess I just need some insight, Steve. Because I’ve been wracking my brain for four years trying to figure it out.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he sighed, and you saw his teeth chew on his bottom lip. Then he brought his nail beds to his mouth, a bad habit from his youth. 

You stopped his wrist, pulling his hand back into yours. “You were my best friend, and then you just quit calling.” You don’t think you’d let the hurt sink in until that moment, heard it catch in your vocal chords. You stared at the ceiling, a blur of white plaster and amber beams.

“I thought you didn’t want me to,” his voice was just as small as yours.

You shrugged, didn’t let the wobble in your jaw deter you. “We had fights before, bigger than this one. I figured we’d get over it.” 

“You told me you didn’t want to marry me.”

You propped yourself on your elbows to face him. “Steve, come on. You weren’t serious. You didn’t want to marry me, not really. You were just at that stage in your life where you thought that’s what was supposed to happen.”

He rolled his eyes, shook his head, pulling his hand from yours to run through his damp hair. Flecks of water marked your skin. “Will you quit saying that? Quit invalidating my feelings like that. I didn’t just want to settle down out of convenience. That’s always bugged the shit out of me.” He snapped. 

You barked a laugh, wry. “Okay, you had feelings for me. I get that. You know I love you too, but you can’t just spring a marriage proposal on a girl because she’s naked in your hotel bed. You didn’t even have a ring.”

Steve stared back at you for a long moment, and something in his eyes excited you. You hadn’t sparred in ages, hadn’t talked your genuine feelings out with your best friend in four years. 

“Fuck it,” he said and stood from his seat beside you to cross to his opened suitcase, everything neatly folded and tucked inside. “If I show you this, you have to promise me you won’t say a word until I’m done talking. Alright?” He held something behind his back and pointed a finger your direction. “Not a God damn word.” 

You rolled your eyes but held three fingers his direction and pretended to zip your lips. Then you caught a little black box he tossed at you. Your heart began to thunder in your chest, fingers trembling around velvet. You blinked at it a few times before looking back at him.

Steve was stone faced, if not a little pale, and his arms were crossed over his chest like he was waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he took a step forward, and then back, shifting weight on the balls of his feet. Then, he gestured to the box in your hand, a curse spilling from his lips. “I bought it the second day,” he said, “in Louisville.” 

You couldn’t move, breath short, hands a vice grip on the box in your lap, terrified to look at it.

“We had that first night, the one you mentioned with dinner at that cantina, and we took that long walk past all those big houses, and I felt like I was holding my breath all day. And I can hold my breath for a long time, I’m a damn good swimmer. But sometimes with you, it feels like I’m drowning.”

You could remember every second of that night, had thought about it a thousand times, compared every date to it, hell every happy moment. 

“And I think I just realized I couldn’t tread water with you anymore. Sink or swim, Harrington,” he groaned, scrubbing his hand down a freshly shaven face. “So the next day, while you were at your conference, I went to a jewelry store and bought that.”

Once again, your attention was drawn to the tiny box in your hands, and although your curiosity was piqued, you were still too terrified to open it. 

“I chickened out pretty much the entire weekend. I think I just didn’t want to ruin the fun, and then on that last morning, I panicked. I freaked the fuck out because we were going home, and I didn’t want to be away from you anymore. So I said what I said, and we fought, and I kicked myself the whole way home.”

You were glad you’d promised not to speak, glad you’d zipped your lips, because you didn’t think you had words anyway. Too many thoughts and emotions and memories zooming through your headspace like speedboats, leaving casualties in their wake. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t go to Argyle’s wedding,” his voice was soft, and his arms found their spot across his chest once more. “I know I promised you I’d go, but I think dancing with you at someone else’s wedding felt like a twisted joke.”

You swallowed, nodded. 

“Please don’t think I brought it here because I thought I could win you back, or whatever,” he hurried as an afterthought. “I honestly wasn’t sure what would happen this week. I was shitting myself that I’d somehow make everything worse, which maybe I have.”

You shook your head.

“I just keep it in my suitcase,” he gestured to the box again. “I don’t care what you do with it now. Hock it, pawn it, chuck it into the lake. You know, do what you want with it because it’s yours. It always has been.” 

You watched as he crossed to you, taking a slow and awkward seat beside you, just beyond your reach. 

“That it,” he sighed, shoulders slumped. “That’s my piece, I guess. You can talk now. Or not, if you don’t want. No pressure. At all, about any of this,” he glanced around the room. “If you want to go back to the way things were, I totally understand. I meant it when I said I just wanted a truce for this week. We agreed you reserve the right to live your own life.” 

“No,” you croaked. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “I don’t want that. I mean, I want you in my life.”

The corners of his lips turned up at that, and he let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Me too.” 

“This is all just…” You clasped the box until your knuckles whitened, just to stop the trembling. “It’s a lot to take in.” 

“Oh yeah, totally,” Steve stood from next to you. “I’ll give you a few minutes, or you know, whatever you need. I uh… I actually think I need some air.” He thumbed to the door.

You stood on shaky legs, nodding. “Yeah, me too. Water, I think, might be good.” 

“Totally,” he held the door open for you, and the two of you walked side-by-side to the top of the stairs. The floor groaned beneath your feet. 

“Come find me later?” His voice was soft, warm, forehead creased with concern.

You smiled, nodded, and watched as his lanky frame retreat down the staircase and out the front door.

—

A batch of cookies baked in the oven, caramelized brown sugar and butter permeated the air. Three other cookie sheets sat prepped at the ready on the countertop nearby. You’d washed and dried your mixing bowls and measuring cups and hung the apron on its hook inside the pantry door. Your glass of lemonade lay untouched, glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

The small black box rolled in your pruned fingertips, and you glanced around the kitchen for any signs of onlookers before cracking open the seal, hinge groaning, for a peak at what rested within the pink satin lining.

You nearly dropped it, throwing your hand to your lips to contain the gasp that rattled when you saw the perfect diamond in its fitting on the perfect, most delicate little band. It was everything you would have wanted, subtle and sleek and sweet. You wondered if you had mentioned the details, mumbled into Steve’s chest after a night out, senses liquored and secrets spilled. 

Or maybe he just knew you, better than anyone else could.

You glanced around the empty house once more before risking to pull it out of its casing and slide it over the summer-swollen knuckles of the ring finger on your left hand. It was the perfect fit, sparkling in honeyed sunlight, casting rainbows against the cabinets and countertops. 

“Smells amazing in here, dudette,” Argyle entered the small kitchen.

“Thanks,” you choked a laugh, shoving your hands behind your back to greet him. “How’s dinner coming?”

“Good, good,” he bobbed his head, long hair swishing against a broad chest. He sidled up to the counter opposite you. “Came here to check on you though. It’s our last day. It’s not the same without you.” 

“I know,” you smiled, waving at the cookies with your right hand. “Let me finish these up, and I’ll be right out.” 

“Sure,” he saw right through you, a grin forming beneath his mustache, a glint in his eye. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I’m here for you.” 

The honesty there cut deep. You nodded, wondered how much he knew, felt guilty for not telling him more, or for taking too much vacation time with your petty drama. 

“Can I tell you a story about me and Eden?” His eyes lit up when he spoke of her, a big grin formed across soft features.

You nodded again, toyed with the ring around your finger behind your back. “Please.” 

He scratched an itch at his mustache, and you saw him twist his own ring around his finger, gold, outdated, oversized. “Remember that day in the military tent? When we were all waiting for orders, and Steve pulled you in so we could explain what the Hell was going on?” 

You swallowed. You’d never forget that day, though you were grateful you thought about it less and less as time went on. 

“Sorry to bring it up,” Argyle nodded, held a hand up in apology. “I only do because I remember it more vividly than any of those days. I mean, I was high for a lot of everything before, and everything after felt like one big firefight. But I remember that day specifically because you lost your mom and Steve brought you into that tent, and he just held you.”

The emotion that had been rising all day started to spill, a causeway that rolled warm down your cheeks, and you were frantic to stop the flow, trying to push back those awful memories, the flashes of orange and camo, Steve’s strong arms wrapped around your collapsing body, knees gave way. You nodded to encourage Argyle to keep going, to reassure you were okay. 

He reached a hand out anyway, pulled you into the cushion of his shoulder, rubbed at your arm. “We were all so young and so dumb, and I just wanted to go home.”

You sniffled and hugged around his middle because you understood.

“Not home to Lenora, but home to this girl I met a week earlier with brown hair and brown eyes because the moment I saw her, I knew I’d do anything for her. I wanted her to hold me the way Steve held you.”

Home, this place you’d always had in Steve Harrington, a place you always would. 

“That’s the day I realized she was my one-and-only.” He always waxed so poetic about his wife, and until this moment you’d always rolled your eyes with fondness for the man. Until this moment, you never really understood. “Are you picking up what I’m laying down?” 

You nodded, laughed wetly. “I think so.” 

The wrap of knuckles against the doorframe grabbed your attention, and you looked up to find Eddie. His hair was frizzy from air dry, and he looked impossibly lanky in a black tank top and red shorts, and the handsome smile from his face fell when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Everything okay in here?”

Your heart sank.

“All good, my dude, just talking to her about my beautiful wife,” Argyle gave you one more tight squeeze before releasing you to stand at his full height. He gave you a wink before pushing past Eddie to head back outside to be with the rest of your friends. 

The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, the breeze trailing in to float his air from his eyes. You weren’t sure how to start, what you could say to make it right, but you didn’t have to. 

Eddie let out a whistle, long and low, and crossed the room to meet you. “I always knew Harrington had good taste.” Before you realized you were fidgeting with your ring, he took your hand into his, holding it up to catch the light like you had done earlier.

You swallowed, watching the subtle hurt etched between his brows. Eddie Munson, heart on his sleeve. You whispered his name. 

He shrugged, dimples poking through his goatee, and shook his hair from his eyes. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it. I just want you both happy.” He ducked his head then, inches from yours. “Are you happy?” 

You thought to all of the friends that had held you throughout this week, throughout the past twelve years, throughout your life, and you nodded, fighting back the new tears that threatened to spill. 

Eddie caught them with the calloused pad of his thumb, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest. “I’m never going to stop loving you.” 

“I know,” you laughed, closing your eyes as he pressed soft lips to your forehead. 

“You know? Wow. A bit full of yourself, sweetheart,” he teased, and you swatted at him. He dodged your aim and grabbed you by the waist to pull you into a bone-crushing hug, jaw pressed to your temple. 

“I love you too,” you whispered into his neck, cigarette and spice and sunscreen. 

“Have you told him yet?”

You froze, shook your head. 

The egg timer went off, shrill and loud, and in that exact moment, under the honeyed glow of the late afternoon summer sun, with the room smelling of your mom’s chocolate chip cookies, you felt like she was sending you a sign. 

Your hands shook, and you mopped at the tears in your eyes and pointed at the oven. “Can you take those out?” You asked Eddie, breathless, heart thundering in your chest. 

His lips split into that Cheshire grin, and he waved you off. “Go get him, sweetheart.” 

The rubber of your soles squeaked against every wooden step on your way down. The patio was empty, sounds of splashes and crackled firewood and laughter could be heard from the shore, and when you rounded the little tin roof beach hut, you saw your friends, your family, roasting kababs and drinking beer and smiling. Nancy and Robin shared a log to sit on, while the boys stood around the grill with hands in their pockets, breeze ruffling their shirts. The smell of ash and smoke and meats rose to your nostrils, something that just felt like another sign.

Steve was the closest to you, his back turned, broad shoulders in navy blue, running his hand through his hair. You hit sand and called his name, and he turned to face you with a squinted gaze, hand up to see your approaching figure. 

You closed the gap in four strides, dragging him down by the collar to press your lips to his, the final rule broken. 

A sound of surprise turned low when the realization hit, and you felt his hands snake around your waist and hips, lifting you on the balls of your feet to kiss him deeper. Your hands found his hair, one of his cupped your cheek, and all at once you felt at home. Once lost at sea, now you’d found your mooring. 

You breathed a laugh that mirrored his, the tip of his nose pressed to your cheek, and it wasn’t until the ringing in your ears stopped that you noticed the ruckus of friends around you.

“Is that a diamond ring!?” Robin screeched somewhere behind Steve. 

You sucked back a smile and pulled your hand from Steve’s hair to admire the ring on your finger. Steve looked back at you glassy eyed, mouth open to speak without words. You shrugged, smiled, allowed the diamond to sparkle in the sunlight. 

“Yeah, I guess it - ” You were cut-off when Steve planted another kiss on you, lifting you into his arms. 

—

The windows had been closed for the night, pale yellow curtains no longer flowing in the breeze. Your hair smelled of campfire, and your eyelids grew heavy from an eventful day. You were full of kabobs and Mom’s chocolate chip cookies, and you squished onto the tiny couch between Steve and Robin, who were flicking each other inches above your head. 

“You’re both children,” you snorted, swatting their hands away as they began to flick you instead. 

“Wheeler, are you crying?” Eddie’s voice turned all of your attention quickly to Nancy, who sat between Jonathan’s legs, mopping at the tops of her freckled cheeks.

“No, fuck off, Munson,” she scoffed.

You scrambled to sit upright, leaning across the coffee table to take her hand in your own. Jonathan gripped you both. “What’s up?” You bit back a smile, seeing Nancy’s eyes roll in annoyance at being the center of attention for something she’d rather keep private.

“I just never thought we’d be here.” She sighed. 

“Yeah, Kurtis was really generous leaving his house with a bunch of assholes like us,” Robin agreed. 

“Shut up,” Nancy groaned when you all laughed. “I just meant… after all this time, I’m really glad I still have you guys.” 

“Can’t get rid of us that easy, Nance,” Steve grinned, swinging an arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him with a sigh.

“It’s true, dude. We’re like parasites,” Argyle piped in, mouth full of cookie. 

You tried not to let her words seep in, tried desperately to tread water, to fight back the current of emotions that prickled when you realized you didn’t know the next time you’d all be together like this. Robin was off to France. Nancy and Jonathan had their own adventures, baby in tow. Argyle lived across the country.

You met Eddie’s gaze, warm browns and Cheshire smile. “Besides, we’ll all be together again soon. I heard there’s going to be a wedding in Hawkins.”

You cocked a brow, ready to retort, but Steve beat you to the punch.

“Hard to plan a wedding in a place we don’t live.”

---

A/N: This fic was definitely a labor of love for me. I actually had this planned before I wrote My Whole Life, Too. And I have so many other details of their lives and pasts that I'd love to dive back into. Thank you so so so much for reading xo xo

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#better off fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #robin buckley #jancy #argyle #eden bingham

[roll-of-royces]

L&DS Drabble (With AFAB Reader)

Content: You long for one particular stuffy, the perfect bunny for your collection. Xavier is determined to get it for you, but well Zayne might feel the need to step in. Rating: G for all the girls and gays

Spoilers: None

Word Count: 1078

You stare into the claw machine. Perhaps you are in fact staring a little too hard at the fluffy, elusive creature, but it's been at least fifteen minutes. And it's so cute with its big long bunny ears, and the bowtie around its neck. There are several variations in the machine: blue, pink, purple, and yellow. You have your heart set on the yellow one, but you don't dare say a word about it. 

It is already hard enough for Xavier. He too is looking at the claw machine, but his eyes are far more akin to a glare than desire. You keep holding the bowl, checking to make sure your nails haven't chipped since you got them done last week. Being a hunter has made it difficult to have nails that last, but for now the sparkling red is still in good condition. 

For now, being the key phrase. You keep your face supportive as he reaches for another coin. "You can do it." You tell him, because really you don't know how to tell him he's utterly hopeless when it comes to the art of getting a claw machine to do what you want it to do. 

Xavier who can stand down an army of wanderers single-handedly and yet cannot win at a claw machine. It's cute. He's cute, but then you've know that since you met him. 

Shuffling to the side you lean in and give him a smile. "I'm serious, I know you can do it." 

He gets that gleam in his eye, and you worry he may just blast the machine's glass into shards and collect your prize that way. You really hope he doesn't do that, because you like coming here. You come here all the time. 

You're in luck, he doesn't choose violence. He grabs the handle and with newfound determination sets to his goal ... and fails. You can't help the giggle that pulls from your mouth even as your hand comes to hide it. 

He eyes you, raising an eyebrow, and then lets out a long beleaguered sigh, "Alright, alright. Aren't you supposed to be teaching me anyway?" Xavier gestures toward the control and steps back. He falls into the position you see him take when he's actually paying attention. 

Not the one in meetings (he's usually not paying attention in those) but when there's danger in the air and he needs to listen and focus. It's that pose. You smile at him and reach for the controls. 

"You're here." You recognize the voice immediately and turn to look at Zayne with a smile in greeting. 

He's off duty, no white doctor's coat to be found. His glasses are in the front pocket of his button-up. You never expected to see him in a place like this. In fact, he looks downright out of place. 

"Zayne! Hello." You grin at him, task momentarily forgotten as he strolls closer. 

"I was just passing by when I noticed you." He explains and slips his hands casually into his pockets. His eyes shift, focusing entirely on Xavier and you notice a pitch in moods between both. "I didn't realize you were out with a ... friend." 

You pivot, realizing you'll need to introduce them. First you gesture toward Xavier, "This is my work partner, Xavier." You then gesture toward Zayne. "And this is Doctor Zayne, he's my well doctor." 

"And an old childhood friend," Zayne adds. 

You blink at him in surprise, since you reconnected you've never heard him introduce himself that way. Normally he's happy to be introduced as a doctor, but he puts such emphasis on childhood. 

Honestly, your stomach flips at the way he says it. Such an undertone, a connotation that you've never dared consider past a passing childhood fancy. 

Xavier shifts, touching your back along his side as he holds out a hand. This too is unusual, he only stands this close if the two of you are in the thick of a battle. "Right, it's good to know she has friends."

The way they shake hands feels bordering on aggression. It feels cold. A shift of frigid air waves past Zayne causing you to shiver. And then in the corner of your eye, you swear you see the faintest glint of light. 

Boys, the both of them. 

"Right, well I'm going to get this bunny." You declare, ignoring whatever weird competition they're going through, and turn back to the machine. Tongue between your teeth you make your best attempt, and normally you're pretty good (better than Xavier at very least) but maybe it's the passive-aggressive men standing behind you or bad luck but again the yellow rabbit evades capture. 

You groan, "Come on." 

Zayne chuckles and you feel his hand on your side pressing you away so he stands in front of it. "A coin?" He asks, and holds out his hand. You dutifully hand one over from the hoard that Xavier has at his disposal. "You were attempting to grab the yellow one, is that the color you want?" 

You nod. 

"You didn't tell me that." Xavier complains, standing at your other side. 

"I didn't want to pressure you." 

He frowns, glancing down at the tiled floor of the arcade. He's definitely frustrated. You'll apologize later. It's not like you guys don't see each other basically every day for work and often outside of it. 

Huh, now that you think about it, you have been spending a lot of time with both of them lately. There's been lunches and dinners, outings, and sitting around in Zayne's office or Xavier's apartment.

You've been a whole lot less lonely. It's nice. 

Zayne hums in concentration, the claw comes down, the bunny lifts, and boom. He got it. 

"Yes!" You jump a little in excitement as he bends down and plucks the stuffed animal from the slot and holds it out to you. 

He's got that sparkle in his eyes as you grab it, hugging it in close. You've wanted this one for like a week now. Everytime you pass the arcade you find yourself eyeing it. 

"Are there any more that you would like?" Zayne asks leaning down to look at you. "Your friend seems to need some help." 

When you turn you see Xavier bent over the controls of another machine, to your surprise he gets it in two attempts. Grabbing his prize he comes back to your side and holds out this terribly ugly purple turtle. 

You accept it anyway, holding it with your rabbit. "Thanks, guys." 

Zayne smiles back, "My pleasure." 

Xavier nods, "Yeah, anytime." 

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #l&ds #l&ds drabble #i want to do unholy things to both of them #afab reader

[lunargrapejuice]

For your prompt ask could you do Kaeya with number 14? Thank you!

a million years later i have returned to this- ahh sorry for the lateness but i hope you enjoy <3

kaeya alberich x reader | 1.3k+ words | nothing explicit but for sure kaeya thinking some implied naughty thoughts, lots of pet names used | prompt: pressing tiny kisses against your lover's shoulder while they're bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them

when it came to paperwork there was no doubt that your thoughts about having to do it were the same as kaeyas; truly the worst part about your duties and you would rather be doing anything else. but unlike kaeya, and as an adventure instead of a knight, you didn’t have much paperwork but when you did you certainly didn’t wait until the night before it was supposed to be turned in to finish it. okay, maybe sometimes you did wait but never this late. 

your vision was blurry as you sat up and looked at the clock, the covers pooling at your hips leaving your uncovered arms exposed to the cooling night air. though your bed wasn’t much warmer, not with a certain blue haired knight missing from his side of the bed.  3:11am - you pout at the time showing on the clock on the dresser. even if he did have work to finish and you know it’s his own fault, you didn’t want him to exhaust himself working so late. 

in the quiet of your apartment, as you make your way down the hallway dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of underwear, you hear the moving of papers and shuffling of your beloved's quiet steps as he continues to work and review the document jean had given him days ago. he’s apparently gotten quite deep into the pile of work he brought home. he hadn’t told you what it was for but it certainly looked extensive. it was an organized mess of papers strewn across the kitchen table and hunched over it all was your knight. 

he’s shed the majority of his clothes, left in his tight pants and white button shirt that normally shows off his chest but has now been unbuttoned enough to give you a glimpse of his chiseled abs too. in the silvery moonlight seeping in through the window and the golden flicker of candle light next to him he looks so stunning. how had he chosen you out of everyone that was out for his heart.. you’re sure if you asked he’d give you a million, if not somewhat ridiculous, reasons. 

the light of the flame reaches and brings attention to his mostly exposed chest, leaving your hands to tingle at their many memories of mapping every little scar and curve; aching at your continuous need to touch his soft skin but having been deprived of it all night. his sapphire hair draped over one shoulder and you watch as it sways at the ends as he leans over the table, his nimble fingers flipping a page over to examine the one underneath it, his uncovered eye scrunching and brows furrowing as he concentrates. your heart beats loudly in your ears and you wonder if he might hear it beating like a drum throughout the quietness of your home as you admire and drink in every little detail that makes up the man you love. 

you’re surprised he hadn’t heard you coming down the hall or caught you staring and you're feeling a bit thankful for the latter. he would have teased you endlessly had he known you were looking at him with sparkling hearts in your eyes, even though you really couldn’t help yourself and are certain it wasn’t the first or the last time you’d do so. but his unawareness to you is enough proof of how tired he must be. when a man who constantly knew what was going on around him suddenly didn’t.. it makes you worry and even more determined to drag him into bed. 

as you draw nearer to him, your shadow overcoming the papers he’s working on in the candle light, he finally looks up at you. his eyes are heavy with tiredness, it’s not hard to tell but they gleam all the same at the sight of you. 

“what are you doing up snowflake?” 

“i couldn’t sleep without you,” you say softly, in hopes your sleepy voice will coax him into bed. he always said it was a voice he adored.

he chuckles at that, your chest blooming with heat at the lovely sound and sight of his tender yet tired smile. “always so needy for me, aren’t you?”

your warm fingers run across his cold ones as you round the table to stand behind him, resting your head on his back and wrapping your arms around his middle. “and if i am?” but before he can reply with a witty, flirtatious remark you continue, determined as ever to pull him from his work. “come to be kae. it’s late.”

“now now doll, just a little longer and i’ll be done,” one of his hands smooths over your arms that rest of his abdomen, a gesture meant to comfort you and hold you over for the next little while, before returning to the paperwork in front of him. he has to stay focused if he wanted to get this done quickly but you were always the perfect distraction. “i’ll be done soon, promise.”

you shake your head against his back, squeezing his middle tighter before starting to place gentle and chaste kisses along his covered shoulders and back. the warmth of your lips seeps through his thin shirt, your love lingering on his skin as you move from place to place. you can feel his tense body relax under your touch and you hope it’s enough to get him into your bed for some much needed rest. 

it’s impossible to think straight with the love you pour over him, the truth of it seeping into his tired bones and exhausted mind, pulling his thoughts far away from the work he was supposed to finish tonight. he didn’t deserve you.. his tired mind reminds him after a few moments of relishing in your love. with his fate so unknown, tonight he may be up late doing paperwork but one day it may be something else far worse tearing him from your shared bed.. you deserve someone who could give you a solid future not full of such terrible uncertainty.. but you know of the unknown that awaits him and have chosen him anyway. your continuous kisses are small and powerful reminders of that. 

“kaeya,” you whisper against his skin, tearing him from the dark late night thoughts that often plague his mind. the way you say his name with such devotion melts the cold unknown that crept up into his heart. “please come to bed with me. i.. i need you by my side.”

his heart skips far too many beats at your words but it’s nothing new from how he normally feels around you, no matter how long you’ve been together. he was so enamored by you. 

it never took much for him to skip out on paperwork in the first place but he can’t think of anything that he’d rather be doing than laying with you in his arms, pulled tightly against his chest. jean would surely give him an earful tomorrow but right now, as his heart wins this battle, that sounded like future kaeyas problem. 

always one that’s quick on his feet, he swiftly turns around before you can react and scoops you into his arms. your legs wrap around his middle with the support of his strong arms holding you against him, your own flinging around his neck for support. he smiles cheekily at the surprised gasp that sounds against his ear when he lifts you and squeezes your thighs, loving the way you feel around him as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, your lips leaving soft feather like kisses on his exposed skin the longer you’re in the comfort of his embrace. as he walks with you securely in his arms from the kitchen and down the hall his mind is wandering with thoughts of if he might be having you make similar noises once you find yourself buried in the sheets of your bed.

as he lays you down in the plush sheets he whispers confessions of his love against your skin, taking in your scent and melting into you as his lips caress you and his hands follow suit. “you’ll always have me by your side angel.” 

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