#still thinking about that shell ice cream to this day
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disney sea treats 🍨
#kingdom hearts#kairi#namine#namikai#my art#disney sea treats my bff and i had in japan a few months ago!!#still thinking about that shell ice cream to this day
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Deja Vu: “I want you so bad.”
» pairing: asshole! wooyoung x fem! reader
» summary: Getting paired with Wooyoung, notorious half-asser and asshole, on your midterm assignment must’ve been karma for something you’ve done in the past, cause god did you luck out bad. He’s constantly late to your meetings, hardly does any work, and on top of that, he teases you like no other. You can’t stand him. Until one day, a storm comes, brewing unfamiliar feelings amongst you two, and what you thought you knew had honestly just turned out to be deja vu.
» word count: ~ 9k (i actually have no idea, i just know it’s long)
» genre & warnings: non-idol au, asshole (most of the time) wooyoung, sub (sometimes) reader, dry humping, grinding, praises, unprotected sex (BAD, DON’T DO IT), rough sex, cream pie, ass & tit slapping, major teasing (both sexually and socially), orgasm denial x3, edging, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, reader has a younger face but is of age, mentions of bff!seonghwa, reader is unintentionally cute, minor peer pressure (helps reader get out of her shell/pushy roommate), heavy make out session, whiny wooyoung, sensitive reader
» a/n: when i tell you i am in love with this kind of wooyoung
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*.･｡ﾟ
Everyone warned you about him.
He’s a handful for sure.
You got him as your partner? Good fucking luck with that.
Be ready to do your half of the load, plus his.
You knew this would happen.
So how come you’re still surprised when at 6:45, Wooyoung strolls into the library, a drink in one hand and his laptop in the other, looking as if he’s ready to work. He should’ve been here 45 minutes ago.
You peer up from your own screen and can’t help but scowl at the boy. Wooyoung also notices you, and instead of feigning remorse a cheesy grin spreads across.
“Look at you being all studious.” He reaches the table you occupied and plops down next to you, parts of his drink splashing onto your bare arm, “How much have you gotten done?”
Adjusting your laptop screen, you hardly spare him a glance as you go back to typing, “Honestly, not that much. It’s hard coming up with research on my own.”
You hope the bitterness came through in your tone and judging by the way Wooyoung guffaws, you could tell it did. He just didn’t care.
“Y/N-ah, why’re you being so cold to me?” His voice is playful, lighthearted even, speaking as if the two of you were friends. Which you’re most certainly not.
Instead of replying, you let your fingers do the talking as they slap the keyboard with clicks, a reminder that you guys need to work and not converse. Does he think you actually want to spend your Friday working on some stupid project? One that’s worth a large chunk of your grade at that.
“I brought you something to drink.” He shoves the cup in your face and you can see the liquid start to turn more opaque as the ice melts. It’s also like 70% gone. Having enough, you harshly face him, the sudden movement causing him to buck backwards.
“Wooyoung, you need to get to work and stop playing around. We don’t have time for this, especially when you decided to show up almost an hour late.” You try to sound authoritative, but that in itself is a bit of a problem for you. Your voice has always been softer than most, so when you do try to take charge, you often get ‘awwws’ of how cute you sound. And you hated that.
It also doesn’t help that you have a rounder and softer looking face for someone your age. If you could count on your fingers the amount of times someone’s asked if you’re touring your college instead of attending it - with them thinking you’re a high schooler, well, you’d probably put around 3 fingers down. But the analogy still stands.
Wooyoung’s no different, him holding back a smile from the way your eyebrows would furrow and how your nose would scrunch whenever you exhibit anger. He found it endearing, actually.
“Okay...you’re clearly mad at me-”
“How can I not be?” You exclaim, “It’s been a week of us working on this project together, and somehow you manage to show up late every time, but it’s never been past 30 minutes. You’re even the one who told me to be here at 6!”
“I have a good reason for being late though.”
With that, you push your computer forwards and lean back in your chair arms crossed, entertaining whatever nonsense was about to spew out of his mouth, “Oh please, I’d love to hear this.”
He mocks your stance, “I was getting chased by a girl.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. You give him a deadpanned expression which causes him to whine.
“No seriously! I was.” In a flash, he pulls out his phone and puts it out for you to see a string of messages.
5:48 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- HYUNG!!!
- i need your help asap
5:49 PM
SEONGHWA:
- huh?
- what’d you do?
5:51 PM:
WOOYOUNG:
- the girl from last weekend’s pissed at me and is looking for me all over campus
- can i pls hide in your dorm?
5:51 PM:
SEONGHWA:
- tf did you do to piss her off?
5:52 PM:
WOOYOUNG:
- i’ll explain later just please let me hideout at your place
- i heard she has a knife
5:52 PM:
SEONGHWA:
- okay fine
5:53 PM:
WOOYOUNG:
- thank you!!
- i’m already outside your door
Admittedly, you were left dumbfounded. So maybe he did have a reason today, but that doesn’t excuse all of the other times. Wooyoung slips his phone back into his hoodie pocket while you go to ask the obvious question.
“What did you do to make this girl mad?”
He blows out a hard breath, as if even thinking about her is such a hassle, “We hooked up last week and I told her I didn’t wanna see her again. So, this is how she reacted.”
You purse your lips out, “Well, maybe she was hoping to gain something out of it. You know, there are nicer ways to phrase ‘I’m not ready for a relationship’ that don’t involve the girl getting hurt.”
“Why should I care about her feelings?” His words are icy, though it seems to be directed towards you, “I told her upfront I didn’t want anything more, it was only supposed to be sex. I asked her if she could handle that and she said yes. If she went ahead and caught something for me, that’s not my fucking problem.”
Once he was done, Wooyoung reels himself in. The realization that you weren’t, in fact, the psycho chick that had been chasing after him earlier dawns on him as you silently nod in agreement. If he had been clear on his intentions since the start, then there wasn’t really much you could say against him.
“I didn’t know that, sorry for jumping to conclusions.” You sound more sad then you meant to and reach out for your computer.
After a beat his sour look turns sweet again, another playful smile returning, “Oh Y/N-ah, don’t apologize for that. I’m sorry for getting worked up.”
“Your frustrations understandable, especially if you’d been real with her from the beginning. Frankly, she should’ve expected that.” Shrugging your shoulders, you go to work again, now noticing the time hit 7:18 PM. You had about 12 minutes to get Wooyoung to do something, but that probably won’t happen.
He cheers your name loudly, happy that you and him agree on a topic for once and the librarian on standby hisses at him to quiet down while throwing a nasty glare.
The two of you exchange glances before both quietly laughing, you going back to finishing one of your paragraphs for your thesis while he simply sat and watched.
«—————————»
The next time you were supposed to meet with Wooyoung, you receive a text from him hours before your designated time.
12:07 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- pls no library today
12:09 PM
YOU:
- what was wrong with it last time?
12:10 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- the old hag yelled at me
- i’m not dealing with that again
12:11 PM
YOU:
- well tbh you aren’t the quietest person to have around
12:11 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- sorry we all cant be mouses like you
12:13 PM
YOU:
- ignoring that
- how about the cafe nearby?
12:14 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- ugh the coffees gross
- and psycho chick works there
- hell. no.
12:15 PM
YOU:
- oh then def not there, where do you wanna meet then?
12:17 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- just come over to my apartment
- i would suggest your place but i don’t feel like going out
12:18 PM
YOU:
- what if i don’t feel like going out
12:18 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- who wears the pants in this friendship?
12:20 PM
YOU:
- there is no friendship
12:21 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- still don’t wanna admit we’re friends…..
- it’s bad enough you pretend to not know who i am around others
- makes me sad
12:24 PM
YOU:
- does it actually?
12:26 PM
WOOYOUNG:
- no 😛
- come over at 7
12:27 PM
YOU:
- alright fine
Even though you agreed to 7, you actually intended on getting there around 7:10. Hopefully the taste of his own karma would help him learn to respect others times and not waste a second of it.
Throughout the day, while doing your mundane tasks, the text messages between you and Wooyoung keep circling your thoughts. Mainly towards the end.
You and him haven’t established a clear relationship, so that’s why you denied his friendship claim. In all honesty, he just didn’t seem like one to you. But after what happened at the library, a part of you can possibly start to think differently.
Yet your mind races at the possibility you had actually hurt his feelings. It’s not a secret that you two are partners, so whenever you do deny his existence, many people laugh off your comment as a joke. Which for the most part it is. Had you been going too far with that?
Then again, this is Wooyoung you’re talking about. He hardly takes anything serious. Not even a project that’s worth more than half of his final grade. You’re probably just overthinking it, no need to stress out over this.
Telling yourself that, you continue to busy yourself with random tasks till around 6:30, which also happens to be the time your roommate arrives back from wherever she had left early this morning.
“Hey, where are you about to go?”
She asks as she notices you picking out a sweatshirt to wear, already having on light flared jeans. She comes up behind you and lands a loud smack on your ass and you fake cry. This is not a first time offense.
“Wooyoung wants to meet at his place for our project.” You look between two sweatshirts in your hands, a light grey and black.
Your roommate throws herself onto your bed since hers is barely visible due to the abundance of clothes occupying it. But then she pauses for a moment, rethinking over what you just said, “Wait, you’re going to his apartment?”
You nod absentmindedly, still deciding on which clothing option to wear.
“Is he trying to fuck you?”
Now that snaps you out and you dart your eyes to her, “What?! Absolutely not.”
She sits up now, legs crisscrossed as she becomes engross in the conversation, “Y/N, he 100% is! You’ve guys been studying at the same two places for the past week, now suddenly he wants to change locations? To a more secluded place? Sounds sketchy as hell.”
You’re quick to discard that, “It’s because he doesn’t wanna go out today. Plus, Wooyoung has his reasonings for not liking our usual spots.”
Her eyes do a dramatic roll, “Right, just as I’m sure he had his reasonings for being an hour late last Friday.”
You had been texting your roommate up until Wooyoung’s arrival, frustration running into the ground. But you also told her he had a legit excuse later on. So, she’s clearly not the biggest fan of him.
“Don’t say such things. And besides the seclusion will probably help us work better.” You finally choose to go with the black sweatshirt and put back the grey.
“Or it’ll help when your screaming his name and no one will be around to hear it.”
“Hey!”
She throws her hands up innocently, though nothing’s innocent about what’s coming out of her mouth, “I’m just saying! The possibility isn’t a no.”
“To me it is! Plus, he doesn’t even see me like that. Just as a friend…..sorta. Well, that’s not really the case for me. But it’s- you know what, never mind.” You finish putting on the sweatshirt and do your go-to style for your hair, something quick.
“Okay, well can you at least prepare better just in case you guys are gonna bone?”
You just shake your head in disbelief that this conversation is even happening, while she gets up and begins rummaging through the pile on her bed. When her hands come out again, they’re gripping a lacy tank top and matching underwear.
If you thought this couldn’t get any worse, it just has significantly.
“You’re not serious….” You shake your head once more, disbelief clouding your mind again.
“Y/N go put this on right now!” Before you had a chance to protest, she’s pushing you into your closet, throwing the clothes at you before locking the door and turning the lights on from outside.
“You’re crazy! I thought you don’t even like Wooyoung, why’re you so on board with this non-existent idea?!” You yell.
“Cause, even if he is an asshole, he’s still hot! And the perfect gateway into the hookup culture you’ve always wanted to be apart of since freshman year!”
You mentally curse yourself for wanting to have a ‘hoe phase’ and for sharing that with your roommate. That was forever ago anyways, surely she would’ve realized you grew up since then. Once you realize your roommate is dead set on not letting you out, you sigh annoyingly. She is insane.
But as you begin to caress the fabric, your mind begins to race. You had absolutely no intention of getting with Wooyoung, not now or ever. You don’t even consider him a friend! Yeah, he’s extremely attractive, and maybe even your type.
However, that doesn’t make up for how much he irks your soul, and you could swear up and down that you dislike him.
Maybe that’s why it would be perfect, the voice inside of you starts, no extra feelings attached, and no one has to get hurt like psycho crazy girl.
You bit your lip at the thought. Would he even hook up with someone like you? You don’t think you’re exactly his type.
………oh who’re you kidding, he’d probably mess with anything that has a hole.
“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it. If not, then let it ago.” Your roommate adds more encouragement.
Suddenly switching your brain off, you strip off you clothes, removing the current underwear for the newer kind. You toss back on your other clothes before begging your roommate to let you out.
She opens the door but stops you in your tracks, “Now hold on, before you go let me see that you have it-”
You lift up your shift to reveal the tight material straining against your skin. You felt your breasts were gonna pop out at any second.
Your roommate gapes at you then goes to quickly put your shirt down, “Oh wow, I almost just said something I might’ve…...anyways you look fucking amazing.”
“Aww, thank you.” A tiny smile spreads across your face and your roommate resists the urge to pinch your cheeks.
“Okay, what time are you’re suppose to meet him?”
You glance over at your clock which reads 7:01 PM, “Hmmm, about right now.”
She tells you to hurry out of here but before you get the chance to, she walks over to the window and takes a peak, “Hey, have you checked the weather?”
“No, why?” It had been sunny all today there was really no point.
Your roommate holds back saying something, her gaze going over to your closet, “I think you should wear the grey sweatshirt.”
«———————————»
You were going to kill you roommate. The funeral’s been planned out, you already knew the casket color - burnt siena - and all you needed was the body. She is so dead.
You knock ferociously at Wooyoung’s door, at such a rate that someone could mistake you for one of his many, many girls. The door swings open, a freshly showered Wooyoung standing on the other side.
“Y/N-ah, why’re you so angry all the ti-” His eyes go wide at the sight of you. Your once neat hair all messy and soaked from the rain. The sweatshirt your roommate suggested had turned a much darker grey while your light pants were splattered in raindrops.
The worst part about it all, the rain started just as you were approaching his street, and it came down in waterfalls. You were already too far to turn around and grab an umbrella.
“I don’t. Wanna. Talk about it.” You roughly push past him and into his apartment, which you would normally stop to admire the niceness of it if you weren’t so upset. His living room and kitchen’s clean and modern, a TV playing some movie in the background.
“I feel like I could make a joke, but this is just too easy,” You toss a harsh glare over your shoulder at him as he closes and bolts his door, him shuddering at your expression, “Is this why you were late? I was counting every second.”
You highly doubt that’s true, “No, my roommate and I got to talking about…something.”
He tsks, running the white towel over his damp hair, “You know for every minute you were late, I say you deserve a spanking.”
If not for you roommate, that statement wouldn’t have illicit more than a scowl from you, maybe even an eye roll. But your mind trails off to you bent over his lap while he counts the number of times his palm hits your flesh.
And you feel your face immediately burn so you turn away, “If that’s the case, you’d probably wouldn’t be able to walk for like a week.”
With your back facing him, Wooyoung’s eyes linger down to your ass, and how full it looks in those pants. Dammit, he told himself he wouldn’t think of you in that way. And that spanking comment completely slipped out, but now he’s wishing he hadn’t said anything. His thoughts are truly something else.
“Where should we work?” You ask, desperately needing a change in subject.
He seems to be cleared from his own thoughts and he leads you to his living room where his laptop’s already set up with your guys’s work document. Hey, talk about efficient.
Wooyoung drops to the couch and you sling off your backpack, going to follow his lead when a foot comes in contact with your ass.
“Sorry, but I can’t have you sitting on the couch.” He slowly lowers his leg and you scoff lightly, your face doing the thing it does when you get angry. It kills him inside each time.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I don’t have a spare change of clothes.”
Just as quickly as he sat down, Wooyoung’s back up again and tells you to follow him to his bedroom. Outside, you can hear the wind start to pick up, mixing with the treacherous rain.
“You can borrow a shirt from me, but I’m kinda low on bottoms.” He says as he yanks open a clearly broken drawer and begins looking for a suitable replacement.
He pulls out a ratty, white tee and tosses it on your face, you hearing him laugh at you as he makes his way out the door. You rip the shirt off with a huff, “Thank you for this.”
His eyes do a quick motion back to you before smiling his usual, playful grin, “That’s what friends are for.”
And he goes to exit again, leaving you alone to change. Trying your best to ignore the way your stomach buzzes at the remembrance of his smile, you pull off you own wet shirt and replace Wooyoung’s dry one, his scent engulfing you the minute it’s on you. You thought you could get drunk of this.
And as for pants, well, your jeans didn’t get as much damage as your top, so it should be fine. You work your way back to the living room, Wooyoung actually working diligently for the first time in ages.
“Whatcha doing?” You take the only open seat next to him on the cushion, but whatever change of heart you had towards him dissipates in a matter of seconds as he flips his screen to show you some clothing store he’d been browsing.
“Do you think this would look nice on me?”
You stare at him blankly before giving him a half-hearted answer. That seems to do the trick as he twists his computer and goes back to typing, most likely still not working. You open your own laptop and begin immediate research, the sounds of clicks filling the air as if you’re both competing for which one is the most significant.
An hour goes by, then two, then three, till next thing you know it’s 11 o’clock at night and the only thing left of your paper is the conclusion, which you tasked Wooyoung with since no one knows all that he’s really done.
“Holy shit! I can’t believe we’re almost finish with this.” He sighs happily into the couch while you shoot him a face. He instantly backtracks and rephrases his sentence into something more accurate, where he’d actually given you more credit.
“This feels like the longest paper I’ve ever written,” You huff as you layback alongside Wooyoung.
“Yeah, well,” He regards you and you meet his gaze, a tiny smile breaking out, “I know you did a great job. You’re an awesome researcher.”
The words could make you melt on sight, “Wooyoung, you’re too sweet.”
At the sight of your genuine smile, he felt as if his heart was going to leap out his chest. Damn you and you’re cuteness.
“Here I thought you couldn’t wait to rid me of your time.” You say as you snicker at your own joke. Definitely was the other way around.
“Well, don’t count on that. Trust me when I say, you’ll never get rid of me.” A devilish grin overtakes him and you roll your eyes, playfully this time. Maybe there is a part of you that’s starting to warm up to him.
“It’s probably time for me to go, it’s past 11.” When you go to stand, you hear Wooyoung whine behind you, begging you to stay longer. It’s just him being bored, don’t overthink it.
Right as you go to pick up your bag, a flash of lightning followed by loud thunder stop you in your step. With the time you spent with Wooyoung, you’d completely forgotten that a literal thunderstorm had been conjuring outside.
“Where’d you park?” He asks as he goes to stand next to you, trying to see out of the window of the blinds but even that had been barricaded by water.
“Oh, uhh, I actually didn’t drive. I walked here from my dorm.” You begin to think about how you’d get home. The bus normally comes around 12, so you could just wait under the bus stop to get out of his hair-
“You better not be considering leaving,” He chastises and when you make a guilty face he’s shocked, “Are you kidding me? I’m not letting you go out there.”
“I don’t wanna be in your way anymore, I’m sure you’re tired of me enough.” You rebut with wide eyes that make it hard for him to look away.
“Don’t make up lies, Y/N-ah, that’s what bad people do.”
Why does he do this to you? Treat you like you don’t know that there’s wrong in the world, like your sheltered. You stick your hip out and cross your arms, “Who’s to say I’m not bad.”
That sentence alone was enough to get him to laugh as if he’d been holding one in for a while, “Yeah, okay. I’ll go get my room ready for you.”
You trail him like a puppy as he goes down the hall and into his bedroom, “Hey, I didn’t agree.”
“And I don’t remember caring if you did.” He picks up the little trinkets off the floor before switching his pillows out with new ones.
You trot behind him, “Then if that’s the case, you take your bed. I can’t kick you of here.”
“You’re not kicking me out, I already gave the room to you.” He moves onto collecting a blanket from his closet then proceeds out into the living room again with, surprise surprise, you close by.
“Wooyoung this isn’t fair, I feel bad.”
He drops the cover then whips around to face you, his eyes burning deep into yours, “Where do you want me to sleep if you’re taking the bed then, huh?”
“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it.”
Your roommate said this to you and boy if this doesn’t feel like a moment. Your eyes drop down slightly, then off to the side before landing back on Wooyoung, “You could….oh I don’t know, just stay in the room with me.”
He halts in place, trying to register if he just heard you correctly, “Stay with you……?”
You rapidly shake your head yes because you aren’t too confident your mouth could say much more. He pushes his tongue against his mouth, obviously lost in thought, and you briefly look at the movement. You must’ve turned into a huge pervert in the span of 4 hours because just the sight of that is enough to make your heart race.
“I normally don’t sleep with classmates, but I think I can make an acceptation for you.”
You flick him in the chest at his comment, him immediately laughing. And while part of you felt that was the proper response on your behalf, another hated how you knew he was joking. Like he could never even imagine you in that kind of way.
“Alright, let’s go back to the room then.”
This time you lead the way, with Wooyoung immediately stripping once he steps foot into the room. At the removal of his shirt, you spot a gold chain dangling from his neck, which you felt was a good fit for him. He goes all the way down to his boxers, a classic plaid mix with colors, and your eyes widen at how casual he’d just done it. Though, you don’t completely mind.
“Oh yeah, I get hot easily so sometimes I like to prepare. .” Without another second to waste, he hops into his side of the bed, “Don’t let me stop you though, okay Y/N-ah?”
You don’t even respond as hastily you turn around and fiddle with the button of your jeans. It’s now or never. You pull your pants down, around your ass and past your thighs till they pool around your ankle. You step out of them then bend down to retrieve, folding and placing them on a nearby chair.
“Did you wear that underwear just for me?” He’s teasing you, just like always, though this time you don’t have a comeback. You really had worn these just for him.
He picks up on your no-reply and could tell there’s a sense of something in the air that wasn’t there before.
When you turn back around, Wooyoung’s eyes are glued to you, more specifically towards your legs. You don’t get into bed immediately, instead watching him to see his reaction. Is this where everything goes downhill?
He rakes his eyes upwards till they land on your gaze and it appears he’s confirmed something in them, not playing around or joking. That you’re dead serious. Your heart rate accelerates and his lingering stare is starting to make you curdle.
After a beat his body weakens, “Come here.” His finally says. His voice is strained quietly, speaking as if you’d break if he were any louder. And so you do, leisurely, stalling.
You reach the side of the bed and he motions you to continue. You dip a knee into the mattress before placing your other, then again slowly make your way over to him.
Stopping right in front of his face, his arms reactively go up to grab at you but he stops himself midway. You can tell he’s asking for full permission, and attempting to calm your breathing you give a nod of approval.
His hands grip the back of your thigh, sinking into the skin, before making you straddle him. You sit perched up and toying with your fingers, then decidedly to rest them across his bare shoulders.
“You know I was just messing with you?” He starts, forcing you to give him your attention.
“You always do.” You’re tone sounds neutral thank goodness, but your goddamn pouty lips make you look like your frowning. Or to Wooyoung, kissable as fuck.
Chuckling gently, he bites his lip to stop him from smiling too much, “Yeah, that’s true. But this time it didn’t seem like just teasing to you.”
You feel his hands rub against your thighs, not working their way up, just caressing them while he keeps his eyes locked on you.
“I….” You already knew saying it aloud would sound weird, “I wasn’t sure where tonight was gonna take us.”
He continues to knead into your skin while you go to play with his chain, awaiting his response. You never would’ve imagined this is how the two of you would end up, but damnit if there’s not a part that just excites you a little about it all.
“Did you think we were….” He allows the words to hang in the air but you knew too well what he meant. So you shyly respond, affirming his suspicion.
Wooyoung sighs downward, looking like he just a lost a battle. “I told myself I wouldn’t do anything with you, scolded myself even.”
His words definitely are a shock to you, you stopping your fiddling on his chain to give him your full attention again, “What do you mean?”
“You’re just too cute, Y/N-ah, how could I not think about you in those kinds of ways,” his eyes are back on you, large and dark with plead, “But even when we got paired up together, I told myself to not do anything stupid. Because you don’t deserve that.”
The confession makes your head spin while watching him even more intensely.
“Are you sure this is something you want? If we do this, I promise you I’m not gentle and I don’t have any intention on being so.” He waits for your response but your mind is still murky from his previous statements. What does all of this mean? What was he trying to tell you?
You study him further. The softening of his eyes deepening the longer you two sit in silence. How his now dried hair hangs flowy on his forehead. His skin is clear with full lips. An absolutely gorgeous sight to take in. He’s absolutely gorgeous.
So much so in fact, that you don’t spare another second before leaning in to touch his lips with your own. And he’s quick to react, reciprocating the action in an instant.
It feels as if any previous doubts in your mind just fade out, leaving you with the blissful feeling of Wooyoung. He kisses you like he’s starved. Not sloppy, but uniformed. Almost like he’s been waiting for this and doesn’t want to mess up.
Your mouth moves perfectly with his, and you start tilting your head to either side. He copies your action and the two of you begin to get completely absorbed in the make out.
The hands on your legs work their way up, snaking behind you to cup your ass. He’s had literal dreams of this, and how your ass would feel in his hands. But those don’t compare, can’t compare, to how euphoric he feels in the moment.
When Wooyoung slips his tongue in your mouth, ever so slightly, the minor action causes you to whine a bit, his own groan buzzing into you. You feel some growth in his lap, soon a hardness pressing in your inner thigh.
Your breathing becomes irregular as random sounds emit from you, loving the way your core reacts accordingly to the pleasure. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on so quickly. Without even realizing you start to feel friction build from underneath you, now catching onto your hips rolling against his lap.
He starts to take charge though, grabbing and moving your ass to further grind into him. You break away first at the new sensation, huffing and hipping lightly while you struggle to keep your eyes open. Wooyoung takes notice in the way your expression looks so overwhelmed and just so damn cute.
“You like grinding on my cock?” The words tumble out as he flops his head against the headboard, “We haven’t even done anything and you look like you’re already gonna cum.”
His words are ammo to you, fueling you to gyrate faster while your hands go up above his head. He bites his lip, hard, to stop a loud groan from escaping
“You can’t cum just yet, Y/N-ah.” The sentence is more airy, like he’s struggling himself with the pleasure. You still continue though, too caught up in your satisfaction to notice him hoist an arm around your back and flip you face up onto the bed.
He lands between you, throwing in more clothed thrusts while holding in a smile at your reaction, a mix between lust and anger.
“What-” He bucks particularly hard into it your core that you thought you were going to orgasm right there, “Nrgh! What was that for?”
Wooyoung dips his head down to your cheeks, kissing them tenderly before scooting towards your ear. He eases up on the thrusts too until the two of you work at an equal, tiny pace, “I couldn’t have you cumming, not when I finally get to enjoy this.”
He wiggles down a bit till he reaches your stomach, taking the fabric of your shirt between his fingers and lifting it up towards your mouth. You gladly accept it, him shoving the tee until your mouth was full.
When he glances back down, your top now fully in view, his eyes almost bulge out of his head.
"Holy..." He drags his fingers up the curve of your waist to your outer breasts, which are practically spilling out of the tight shirt, "You wore this for me?"
He smirks up at you and your eyebrows furrow at the bad joke. He's lucky your mouth's being occupied at the moment.
Wooyoung goes back to admiring you, craning his neck up to place open kisses on the soft flesh that pokes out before working his way to in between your cleavage.
Your heavy breathing, though muffled, is still audible enough for him to hear, lifting his head up quickly to speak to you, "I think those are gonna be my favorite noises."
You dismiss him, grabbing the back of his head to push him back into you. Wooyoung laughs at your neediness and eagerly goes into your tits again.
The feeling starts to build again in your heat, with you gradually increasing your movements against him. He responds to you by rolling himself further between your legs in a rhythm, the sloppy sounds of him kissing and sucking at you still filling your ears.
You've always been a quick pleaser, not typically lasting more than 15 minutes when pleasuring yourself.
If Wooyoung hadn't changed positions earlier, you most likely would've finished like that, which for the record you were perfectly contempt with.
But now everything feels like so much. So much happening at once that the desperation to spill over comes clawing out.
Wooyoung doesn't let that happen though, letting up once he felt you grinding even harder into him. A single string of spit still connecting to your breasts hangs past his mouth, another all-knowing grin plastered on.
"Someone's a little quick on the trigger." Throwing caution to the wind, he sticks a hand against the middle of your underwear, making you squirm on the spot, "Oh, I can see why. You're fucking soaked."
You mumble out a reply but he pretends he doesn't understand, which to be fair he probably doesn't.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Say it again for me." This time he pulls your shirt out, your own little spit string dropping down to your chin.
You gasp harshly, "You're so mean, Wooyoung."
He peers back to your face, staring intently at you when his fingers below push rather deep into your underwear, the action causing you to hike up and grimace, “Hmmm….yeah, I guess I can be.”
In no time his mouth is back between your cleavage as his fingers work your clothed core. You think your hearts gonna explode from overstimulation. You wiggle yourself against his hand, twitching when he starts to move your fabric to the side.
The bare touch he has brings such a feeling you’ve never experienced, making you shiver. The way he would cup your pussy momentarily before releasing, rubbing at your clit again then repeating it all once more. Honestly you thought you were game over.
Till Wooyoung takes his hand away from you fully and sits up. Your face drops at the absence of his touch.
“Hey, what’d I say?” He fakes an angry expression before cracking out into a playful one, “You can’t cum just yet, I haven’t even fucked you.”
He notices the greediness in your eyes, the way you’ve only been concerned on getting yourself off and not him. And he’s not even mad at you for it, finding it rather enticing the desperation you have. Actually, it’s turning him on so fucking much.
“Look at this.”
His voice is authoritative, and when you don’t look exactly where he wants you to, he roughly grabs your hand to palm him through his boxers, “I’m leaking right now and I haven’t even taken my cock out.”
The wetness permeates to your fingertips and you quiver, a sudden sensation taking over. Like you want him inside of you right now.
“I’m gonna pound you until you’re shaking from me,” He wraps his arms underneath you to hoist you up, twisting you around till you’re on all 4’s, “So no orgasming. At least until I say so.”
You go to speak when a hand pushes your head down into a pillow, automatically arching your back with your ass poking out. Your underwear spreads across your cheeks which causes Wooyoung to sigh happily, “I could look at your sexy ass forever.”
“Wooyoung-ah,” You heave, already waiting too long for him, “Hurry up.”
Your voice again was never rude, but it did come off as whiny. He goes to make your wish come true but before that, he lands a harsh smack against your plush skin.
“Fuck, it even jiggles. Y/N-ah, you’re gonna make me cum on myself.” His words make your eyes flutter, swearing that if he kept talking you’d be done for, again.
“Need you in me…..please.” Your last attempt at pleading does the trick for you, with him bringing your underwear down to your knees. He positions himself behind you as he goes to pull down his boxer shorts.
“No more stalling starting right now.” A stroke of dick sends tingles down his spin, then, of course, he toys with your entrance.
Sliding just barely his damp head into you before swiftly pulling it out, rubbing his full length on your pussy lips. He taunts you in a manner that you couldn’t even verbally protest cause it still felt so good.
“I….” Your voice trails off from his continued teasing but that does stop him from being curious.
“Mmm, what’s that?” There’s no edge to his tone this time. If anything, he presents himself softer and more genuine.
You choke on your breath, “I’ve never wanted someone so bad before.” Wooyoung hears the possessiveness in your voice and just like that, his facade comes crumbling down, reaching his breaking point.
If only you’d understand how true those words are for himself.
“Okay,” he pause himself to readjust, “I’m actually gonna fuck you into the sheets now.”
Before he does, his reaches a hand to grab your hair, twisting it to pull you back, “Just let me know when to stop.”
You nod as your consent, which then Wooyoung throws your head back down and brings your waist further up.
He gives no warning when he thrusts himself fully deep into your core, the motion causing your head to almost drive into the headboard.
“Oh my….you’re so damn tight.” His own eyes practically roll back at the feeling of your walls around him, and he almost doesn’t wanna move.
But then you wiggle your hips in need of some friction, and soon he begins to pound into you, just like he said he would.
It starts off slow, him letting the action run through you as your slickness spreads across his cock. You even have the strength to rock with him though you weren’t sure how much longer that would last.
He’s holding onto your waist for support, but then switches one of them to the headboard above, sort of mimicking your earlier position.
His head becomes dizzy with your soft, tiny groans and the slapping sound of his skin against yours as a background.
“S-Shit, think you’re gonna make me…..” Wooyoung becomes too enveloped in the sensation, the intensity from you both, to even finish the sentence.
He gets faster while you grow more limp. Your own pleasure starts to consume you and soon you don’t have the willpower to move. He looks down briefly to your ass, taking the hand from your waist to slap your cheeks.
“Ah!” You gulp in for air, “shit….”
“Oh you like that?” Another one lands on you, though this had some sting behind it. But you love it, “Told you, you needa spankin.”
He doesn’t stop there. Grasping at your tits in front, he forcefully tugs your tank top downwards till they fall out, “Need both.”
Then, he unleashes a smack onto your breasts, this round making you cry aloud, “Wooyoung!”
“You’re so cute, Y/N-ah.” He roughly grabs your mounds of flesh and shakes them, “I love your body so damn much, could fuck you all the time.”
He goes back to fucking you, but your mind wanders. You want to ask if he truly means that, but when a particularly hard thrusts sends you soaring out of your stars, you’re quick to forget.
There’s a build up approaching and your cunt feels extra sensitive from the previous activities. You’ve surprised yourself by lasting this long, but you know your end is near.
“Woo, can I-” The words get caught in your throat and instead you croak them out.
He knows exactly what you want though, and how to give it to you. He folds himself over to completely engulf you, him wrapping both arms around your stomach. He’s still pumping in and out yet his pace has increased significantly, “Yeah, yeah you can cum now. You’ve been such a good girl.”
With his permission you let go, allowing yourself to succumb to the intoxicating heat spreading all around. Wooyoung’s breathing is present behind you as he struggles to find his own regular pattern.
He’s whining, though quietly, into your shoulder, muttering small praises, “Fuck, you’re so good. So damn good. You’ll never let anyone else have you, right?”
He drives his hips continuously as you utter incoherent nonsense, “Promise me no one else will ever see you like this. Can you do that for me?”
You can hardly muster a reply but after a few more gasps it come out, “I promise.”
Your eyes begin to flutter while Wooyoung peppers small kisses down your spine, “You’re mine now.”
And just like that, your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, just a massive explosion causing you to shake. The feeling of your walls contracting around his cock causes Wooyoung to finish too, the two of you cumming in sync. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, and you whimper loudly.
You’ve never had one hit you so intense before, and even Wooyoung’s load is more than usual as he fills you up, your cunt milking his dick in pulses.
You try to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible, taking a mental note of the whole night until slowly you come down from your high.
Wooyoung finishes as well, his hips growing slow until he finally stops. Instead of removing himself immediately however, he takes in the feeling of him still buried in you, loving how warm you feel. You both breathe heavy and you feel him clench his arms around you.
After regaining your composure, you flop down onto his bed, Wooyoung following close behind you. He lands on top of you and sighs, “You’re probably the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
You giggle lightly, “Is that so?”
“Oh yeah,” He plants another kiss this time on your inner neck, “And I’m definitely your last.”
At that, you crane your neck to him, leisurely turning over as he scoots back slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His hair is now slightly wet from sweat, showing just how much effort he put in, “Cause, you’re never getting cock from anyone else again. If you want it, you have me.”
The smile that spreads afterwards is shit-eating and mischievous. You’re amused by this but don’t oppose it, and Wooyoung senses your acceptance at his declaration.
He drops down to your lips, kissing you in such a passion that felt had a little more to it than he’s willing to show and maybe you don’t want him to. At least, not right now.
Just as you start to get into it, he breaks away, “Wait, I remembered something.”
“What is it?” Your cock your head to the side a bit in confusion, an act that briefly makes him put his guard down. But he quickly regains it, and scoots down towards the end of the bed.
He takes ahold of your back thighs and pushes them towards you, your legs reactively parting slightly. He then moves your knees apart and creates an open view for himself to your pussy.
There's an audible groan, "Oh fuck, I need to burn this image in my head.”
His cum leaking out of you combined with your puffy cunt practically makes him hard again. He continues praising you and gloats about how fuckable your cunt is.
Your face burns as you can’t help but cower from the attention, but apart of you knows you’ll be getting more of this in the future.
Better start getting used to it now.
- Bonus -
When you wake up again, it’s to your phone violently ringing off in the distance. You feel a heavy arm slung over you and it takes you a minute to realize Wooyoung is nestling between your neck with a leg on top of yours, out like a light.
Still groggy, you sit up, some surprise coursing through you as you notice your lack of clothing. But that didn’t matter as of right now. All you want is to find this phone and shut it the hell up.
You aimlessly search through the comforter, then bending over to reach the ground when you see a light being covered by your jeans pocket.
Now you have to get up and actually go retrieve the device, something you do then your back onto the bed.
The photo ID is of you and your roommate 2 years ago when you guys first met in high school. A memory you’d rather forget from when she took you fishing for the first time with her family. Your eyes also dart up to the time which reads 2:43 AM.
Oh gosh.
You press the answer button, “Hello-”
“What the hell is wrong with you?! I’ve been texting and calling you for the past 2 hours and I was getting worried!”
You wince at her shouting, holding the phone a way from your ear slightly, “Sorry, sorry. The storm got really bad so Wooyoung offered to let me sleep here. I should’ve told you that-”
“Damn straight you should’ve! Had me thinking the fucker kidnapped you or something, you’re so reckless.”
Your eyebrows furrow, minor irritation pricking at you for her earlier stunt, “Okay, I get where you’re coming from, but you’re the one who knew it was gonna rain. Why would you let me wear grey-!”
“Oh come on, you are not bringing that up right no-”
Your phone gets plucked out of your grasp and soon you hear the end-call noise. You look over at Wooyoung who’s resting up on his forearms, your phone in a hand with your call gone from the screen.
“She’s really loud, woke me up from our nap time.” He mutters then goes searching through your phone before he appears to type out something.
“Wooyoung!” Your shock subsides as the realization of what he’d just done dawns on you, “You can’t hang up on her, she’s my roommate.”
He just shrugs his shoulders, your scolding rolling off of him, “I just did though, plus shouldn’t she be asleep right now? It’s too late for you girls to be up.”
You scowl at him when he glances up at you, shooting you a tiny smile. Then he hands out your phone and you take it skeptically, “What’d you do?”
“Relax, I just told your roommate you’d talk to her in the morning. She needs to take a chill pill, texting you 47 times, holy shit.”
You graze through the messages and see all of the texts she’d sent asking about your whereabouts and then you see the one Wooyoung sent merely seconds ago.
“Hey, come back to bed, you need sleep.” He attempts to pull you back to him and you allow him to, falling down into his chest.
And that’s how you spend the rest of the night, safe in Wooyoung’s arms.
#ateez#ateez wooyoung#wooyoung x reader#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez seonghwa#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#jung wooyoung#k pop smut#wooyoung#Wooyoung x reader smut#wooyoung smut#ateez oneshot#teeskz#ateez imagines#wooyoung x reader smut#kpop imagines
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬
Satoru Gojo
[Chapter 14] Long-Awaited
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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
You become busier and busier as the charity event comes up, and you’re extremely nervous once the day hits. If everything goes to shit, the blame won’t fall on you because this is Satoru’s event– He could berate you for… something, but you aren’t getting fired. You’ve seen him go back to his old shell, whenever you look at him you start to see glimpses of his eighteen-year-old self, and it takes everything in you to put up a cold front.
The night finally arrives, and you’re getting yourself ready for the exciting event. You’re wearing a simple long black dress, and you’re finishing up the effortless makeup that you told yourself you wouldn’t spend too much time on. Yet, you find yourself wiping away the most minor mistake and redoing the step all over again.
“Ren’s got a tummy ache and doesn’t want you to go.” Your mom leans on the doorframe of the bathroom, and you sigh before you stick out your bottom lip. Your baby boy has been as clingy as ever, and as much as you wish to spend the rest of your evening with him, you have to leave. You still have to work.
“Ren, come here, baby!” You yell, and your mother moves out of the way so the boy can pass to the bathroom. It’s taking longer than usual for him to pop up. You crouch down when he’s in front of you, and you kiss his cheek, leaving a stain of red lipstick on his skin. You would laugh at the sight, but worry consumes you when your lips touch his skin and you feel it warm. The back of your hand touches his forehead, and you look up at your mother, “He does have a slight fever. Nothing worrying though.”
“I’ll keep a close eye on my favorite grandson.” Your mother says, making you chuckle. Ren is her only grandson, of course he’s going to be her favorite. You doubt she’ll be getting more in the future. She grabs your son’s hand to take him out of the bathroom so you can finish getting ready without your clingy baby by your side. “You want some ice cream, honey? We can do whatever you want when your mom leaves.”
You’re almost going to tell your mom to not allow the child to do whatever he wants when you’re gone, but surprisingly enough, you hear him reject the offer. It makes your brows furrow, but you try to put yourself in his shoes. When you have a cold the only thing you want is to lay in bed, snuggled up in a blanket so you understand. You try to focus on doing your makeup since you have to get going soon, after all, you have to show up early to help set up the event. You’re not invited, you’re responsible for helping set up. In other words, this is part of your job.
Ren doesn’t want you to leave when he sees you walk toward the door, but you assure him that you’ll be back soon. Tomorrow you’d do whatever he wants to do but you have to leave for the night. He reluctantly agrees, and you leave him behind to begin your work night.
The moment you get to the hall, you dread all the work you have to do. At first you’re worried, thinking about Ren, but ensuring that everything turns out as desired is what takes over your mind. You’re the one that’s making sure everything turns out as perfect as possible, which should be Satoru’s duty, yet he’s nowhere to be found. But you’re sure he’s worried since it’s his first big event, so you give him the benefit of the doubt.
Ten minutes before guests are expected to arrive, your boss finally appears. Satoru looks as handsome as ever, wearing a black tuxedo, his hair slicked back. You try not to admire how good he looks, but you’re sure he notices. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it.
“Sayo took forever to get ready.” He puffs out a breath, and you peek your head to find the woman, but you don’t see her. “She’s in the car… Apparently her makeup still wasn’t ready.”
“Oh…” You respond, and you try to tell him that everything is set. Decorations are set. Drinks are ready, food as well. We’re just waiting on guests.” You inform him, and you can tell by the way that he looks you up and down, he isn’t listening to you. You feel yourself get more and more nervous with every passing second. “Mr. Gojo?”
“You look stunning.” He compliments you, and your face gets warm. You don’t respond though, you change the topic back to the event that’s about to happen, although Satoru doesn’t want to listen to it. The place looks perfect– Plus, he can’t do much now. He grabs two glasses from a tray that sits idle on a table, and he hands one to you. “To a great event.”
“Too early to cheer, is it not? No one has gotten here yet.” You respond. You almost feel bad for responding to him like that, so you assure him, “I think it’ll be fine though.”
He clinks his glass with yours, and you watch him bring the glass up to his lips and take a sip. You follow his lead, and you put it down immediately after. You feel your heart flutter as you look at him, and you force your eyes to avert.
“Will you need me the rest of the night, Mr. Gojo? My cat is sick and I want to leave early to take care of him.” You share, and his brows perk up. He ends up nodding his head, not wanting you to leave early for a stupid cat. “What exactly do you need? I thought you and your wife handled everything else.”
“Just need you around… You represent the company.” He says, and your brows furrow.
“I thought you did since you’re the president.” You tell him.
“And you’re my assistant, therefore, you also represent the company.” He argues. You look at the entrance of the hall, and you watch how Sayo walks in, wearing a stunning red dress. She always manages to make you look inferior, simply by walking inside a room. You understand why Satoru chose her over you, if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t hesitate.
You look back at him, expecting him to watch her with his mouth agape, but he’s staring at you. You sheepishly smile at him, bowing down your head before walking away. At the very least, you’ll have Shoko and Suguru with you. In the end, you’ll manage to sneak out to go back to being with your son.
Hours go by, and the event progresses smoothly, Satoru makes a beautiful speech that leaves you surprised– Something that reminds you of his old self. It’s refreshing to see that he has the ability to be the man that he once was, even if it’s for a split second. You’re seated with Suguru and Shoko, and you converse to kill time.
“How is Ren, by the way?” Suguru asks, and you smile at the mention of your son. You’ve gotten no calls, so you can assume that he’s doing better.
“Poor baby is sick. I just want to leave to be by his side.” You respond, and it catches Shoko’s attention.
“Sick? What does he have?” She questions.
“A cold, didn’t seem anything bad when I left.” You answer. After you answer, her mind drifts elsewhere, and for the first time in the night, you follow her eyes. Her gaze is set on the woman that’s next to Satoru. She spends around a minute staring at Sayo, before she feels your eyes on her. She rolls her eyes before standing up and walking away from the table. It’s a weird reaction, so your response is to follow after her to ask about it.
You stand up to follow after her, but just as you rise from the chair, Satoru approaches your table. “I hope you’re not thinking of leaving.”
“I have to talk to Shoko.” You say, and you walk away from the table to go after her. Satoru’s brows furrow and he takes a seat beside Suguru, asking,
“What’s up with them?”
“Wish I knew.” Suguru answers. “Shoko’s been out of it.”
Satoru then mentions your name, “How’s your relationship progressing? Do you see something more in the future with her?”
“Satoru, focus on your event.” Suguru shuts it down immediately. “Everything is going well, don’t ruin your night by finding out about something you don’t want to hear.”
“It’s just a question, geez.” Satoru rolls his eyes before standing up. He’s about to leave the table, approach another one and ask how everything is going so far. He mutters, “I’m allowed to ask, aren’t we friends?”
“That’s the one part of my life that you aren’t allowed to ask. Not after what you did.” Suguru responds, making Satoru scoff before walking away.
While they sort their problems out, you look for Shoko, finding her in the bathroom. She fixes her makeup, and you clear your throat before asking, “Everything okay?”
“Mind your business.” She sounds hostile, and you don’t want to push her boundaries. But she’s your friend, and you’re wildly curious to know why she’s been so focused on Sayo. She stops fixing her makeup and glares at you. “If you aren’t going to fix your makeup or pee, then leave.”
“Do you like her?” You ask, since it’s the only possible explanation. Of course, she could also like Satoru, but you doubt that she does. Shoko has never really been interested in men.
“I told you to mind your business.” She repeats. You decide not to push it further. You decide to take a short break, taking your phone out of your purse to check if you’ve missed anything. It hasn’t ringed once so you’re not too worried. You realize that you accidentally silenced your phone, and when you check, you feel your heart drop.
Shoko looks at you through the mirror, watching as you turn a color that’s not your own, your eyes widening. She forgets that she’s mad at you and worriedly asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Ren’s in the hospital, I have to go.” And she watches as you run out of the bathroom, and she stands dumbfounded.
When you get to the emergency room, Ren has already been moved to a private room. He’s laying in the hospital bed, not in as much pain as before since he got his medicine. You look at your mother, who sits beside her grandson, giving all her attention to him.
“What is it?” You ask, worry translating in your voice.
“An appendicitis. He has surgery very early in the morning.” Your mother answers. She watches the tears that have accumulated in your eyes stream down your face as you look at your son. You should’ve listened to him and stayed when he told you he was sick. “I contacted Mrs. Gojo before coming to the hospital and she arranged for everything to be quick. She’s stopping once the event finishes.”
“Thank the lord for the power of her money.” You answer, going to Ren’s side. He fights back his sleep, his lids heavy and closing on their own. You kiss the top of his head, and grab his little hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier, honey.”
“It’s okay.” He says, although he could’ve used you by his side when he was getting injected.
“I promise that after this, we’re going to spend a lot more time together.” You respond, and you’d be worried about making an empty promise, but you’re done. You’re quitting. Your job is consuming you, and you need to pay more attention to the little boy that’s in front of you. He’s your everything, and time goes by fast. You then look at your mother, “You can go, mom. I’ll keep you updated.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving.” She tells you, and a chuckle leaves your lips. Nerves were eating her alive when the doctors took him to run some tests on him, she can’t sleep soundly tonight if she isn’t close to Ren. Her stomach growls and she says, “I might get some food. But I’ll be back.”
“Of course, mom. I’ll be here.” You try to smile at him. You take a seat in her old seat, and you keep your eyes on Ren. His eyes keep closing on their own, and you lay your head on the empty space of the bed, about to fall asleep just like him.
Ren has been your entire world for the time that he’s been alive, you have no idea what you’d do if something would happen to him. You still can’t wrap your head around the fact that when he took his first breath, he automatically became your first priority. You’d die for him.
You slowly drift off, and you hear Ren mutter ‘daddy’, and you feel your heart swell. He’s probably thinking about his dad again, and you begin to wonder how he imagines his father. Does Ren think they look alike? Because they certainly do, they’re practically twins.
Until you hear it again, and you lift up your head to look at your son. Yet, Ren’s eyes are wide open, and you’re paralyzed. You can’t move your head to look at the direction Ren looks.
Your eyes follow his gaze, and you nearly puke at the sight. Wide blue eyes are staring at the both of you. He takes deep heavy breaths, completely baffled at the sight that’s in front of him.
You murmur, “Satoru…”
So Ren isn’t a cat.
#[changes]#gojo saturo#satoru gojo#gojou satoru x you#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk gojo#gojo angst#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#gojo x reader#gojo fanfic
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Leon Kennedy - Eating Headcannons (SFW + NSFW)
Dream and I were having a drinks sesh cause the weather is good with us atm, and we ended up having a full discussion about Leon and eating. We were discussing the criteria to qualify as what we have coined a “neo fem-boy”, and how Leon has a lilll bit of squish to him despite the muscle - cause baby boy likes to EAT (both figuratively and metaphorically). Leon canonically put on 40 lbs of pure muscle between RE 2 and RE 4, yet he still somehow looks a lil bit soft and squishy soooooo we had to write this shit down.
Basically we just wanna eat up soft Leon, enjoy~
SFW
It's established canon that this man wants dinner all the time (see Leon in Infinite Darkness and Damnation)
This boy is hobbit-coded - baby boy needs at least three square meals a day - we’re talking full fry up in the morning, actual lunch and a spread for dinner. Might even squeeze in brunch and supper while he’s at it.
Snack, snacks, snacks - always snacking on something.
Having low blood sugar and being in a relationship with Leon is a match made in Heaven.
Lil baby has a sweet tooth
His jacket and coat pockets will always have some form of sweet in them - gum, lollipops, hard boiled sweets, Tiic Tacs, jawbreakers,
Any time you’re in the car together or watching a film, you can hear the hard sugar shell clacking against his teeth.
Will hide food, and eat in bed - you get into bed after a long day and when your head hits the pillow, you’ll hear a plastic rustle. Reaching under you’ll find a half-eaten packet of cookies or biscuits he’d been snacking on earlier that he had shoved under your pillow.
Will finish your food for you
Birthdays are his fav - any excuse to have cake this boy will use it - will eat any kind, but boy is a slut for vanilla cake and strawberry jam filling - you will often have to wipe the cream and jam from the corners of his mouth.
Will fuck up a strawberry sundae especially in the summer time.
Speaking of summer, it’s one of his favourite seasons
Loves to eat outside in the sunshine when it’s hot and balmy
Perfect weather for ice cream or milkshakes – and he won’t waste a single drop. If he notices some trickling down the cool glass in his hands, he’ll lick it up, completely oblivious to how the small action makes you blush.
You’ll often catch him eating his cereal standing up, watching TV or nosying at the neighbours having an argument in the streets below, still in his pyjama bottoms.
Loves milkshake straws - has a collection of different flavours - though, when he doesn’t use a straw, he is always oblivious to the cute lil milkstache.
Will squirt cream straight into his mouth in front of the fridge.
Weddings, and other events are the worst for him, as whilst he loves desserts, they rarely serve his favourites.
“I fucking hate pavlova” he grumbles, proceeding to eat it anyway, just to get his sugar fix.
Loves fruit - will eat raspberries one by one off the tips of his fingers.
You’ll catch him eating ice cream sitting on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge in the middle of the night, sucking on his spoon and looking at you like a deer in headlights when he sees you standing there watching him.
Will get cranky if he doesn’t get to eat - hangry vibes
If he wakes up late, he will refuse to leave without breakfast - this boy will run out the door with a piece of toast in his mouth like an anime school girl.
His RPD uniform has lots of “fancy pockets” and what are they good for? Emergency snack storage - nuts, sweets, biscuits, dried fruit.
For his birthday, you buy him candy bracelets - heart eyes for days - and he sits and absent-mindedly sucks on them at his desk at work, thinking of you.
NSFW
As a birthday present, you wear a candy necklace during sex and Leon attacks your neck, sucking and biting at it whilst he fucks you.
Due to his habits, he always tastes sweet - all of him tastes sweet if you catch our drift (ya, his cum)
Whilst he’s squirting cream into his mouth, if you happen to be walking past and notice some of it lingering on the corners of his mouth and decide to lick it off, baby boy will forget everything he’s doing and fuck you over the kitchen table.
Speaking of cream - will use it on you when he fucks you, kitten-licking the sweet dollops off your warm skin (tits, collarbones, stomach - he's gonna eat you up)
If you’re curious about something he’s eating and want to taste some, he’ll kiss you in lieu of sharing (Leon is only possessive over two things - you and food).
Big into gum sharing - will use it as an excuse to start making out with you.
If things get a little messy when you’re eating cake, he will lick your hands clean if he’s in the mood.
Leon is a munch in more ways than one.
This boy will eat you out of house and home, including your pussy.
Could eat three square meals a day and will still go down on you like he’s starving.
Kitchen? Bedroom? Sofa? Standing up? Doesn’t matter - man’s is ready to munch anytime anywhere.
Whilst he’s eating you out, he’ll rut his hips against the bed - the sugar rush means he is always full of energy and ready to go at all times.
Will suck on your clit like it's a gobstopper.
Gets bratty when he hasn’t had a snack - but, it just so happens that he considers you to be the sweetest one.
Be prepared to be fucked within an inch of your life when he gets like this - or for him to eat you out until you can’t walk (will bring you a snack afterwards ofc).
This man gained 40lbs of muscle— but like we said, baby boy is still soft
Leon puts you in a headlock whilst he fucks you and his biceps have a nice lil bit of squish which you relish in when he chokes you.
His ass jiggles - when he’s lying stomach down on bed, you love slapping it when you walk past and watching it jiggle like jelly - this action without fail will make him blush and whine “Stop!” every time.
You like to bite him
He’s too cute and squishy to resist honestly
Playfully nibbling his plump lil cheek
Biting his thick arms
When you’re riding him and can’t resist playfully kneading his tits like a kitten, and it makes him grab your wrists and fuck into you harder - he’ll later claim that him turning red from his cheeks to his chest was from exertion and not embarrassment.
He is the comfiest place to lie on when you’re fucked out and riding the waves of post-orgasmic bliss.
If you made it this far, comment “Bingo!”
Thank you for reading!
Love,
Ichigo and Dream xoxo
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Hiii, I love your work! What do you think the turtles would think/feel/react if they notized, after years of relationship with a human (and everything is still going really well) , the lair is full of things for taking care of one, for example lotions, creams, hairbrushes, makeup, etc. Kind of like a realization😂
I don't really mind if it's with poly or separated.
Thank you so much for your amazing writings
Hello! I'm glad you're enjoying my stories so far!
I touched on this a bit in the ask How the Turtles Handle Romance, in Mikey's section, but you certainly don't have to twist my arm too much to get me to write more oblivious light bulb moments for these sweet turtles! I went with each turtle having a separate realization, though you are more than welcome to imagine it's a poly relationship and they're just having private epiphanies. (though I will admit that is a lot of hairbrushes to just leave lying around)
Bayverse TMNT x GNreader (kinda Fem? Idk everyone has hairbrushes, right?), SFW, turtles are 24-25
tag list: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou @justalotoffanfiction ..... if i left you out I'm sorry burnt out kinda threw my tag list outa wack so just let me know if you wanna be tagged in general or if it was just that story in particular
Raphael
Another week gone by, and once again Raph set aside the time to clean up his room. He put all the clothes in the hamper, pulled the sheets off the bed and stretched fresh ones over the plush mattress. He straitened up all the knicknacks along his shelves and made sure his mini fridge was stocked with the sodas you both favored and the little ice creams you liked to eat at night.
He did laundry, grumbling at the monotony of the task. He folded his clothes neatly though, setting aside your smaller shorts and underthings whenever he found them. He added another large shirt to your pile, knowing that even if it started off as his you'd be eyeing it as a sleep shirt the moment you opened his drawer tomorrow night...
He eyed the pile, before clearing out one of the top drawers in his long dresser and setting them inside. When he scooped up your hair brush and lotion bottle, he added them to the drawer, but the three books that he found tucked under the edge of his bed went in a neat stack on top of the dresser next to his comics.
He paused, folding the blanket you liked to cuddle with, before dropping it to rest on top of the knitted red one at the foot of his bed. Picked up your fuzzy socks and tucked them next to his in the box by the door where you'd see them.
Finally done, Raph surveyed the space, eyeing the way your items had their proper place in his room, before a soft smile broke out across his face. He'd have to ask, but knowing you, you'd probably only giggle and say "about time, Red." but- he'd ask, and that was the most important part.
Leonardo
Leo sat his hamper on the end of his bed, slowly gathering the pre-folded items inside, tucking each in their rightful place, until he was left with the significantly smaller articles at the bottom that you had left in his space over the course of the last couple of months.
He gave a soft little smile, an idea sparking, and he went to his dresser, adding the brush and hair clips you'd left last week to the basket. He snagged the hoodie that swamped you next, something he hadn't been able to work over his shell the last couple of years but you'd savored the softened fabric as a barrier against the chill when sleeping over, and folded it carefully to hide your underthings underneath.
He nodded, satisfied, turning and straightening the little bits in his room that had gotten moved over the course of the day. He found another pair of your socks under his bed, and, after a careful sniff, he tucked them into each other and tossed them into the basket. At the bookshelf he eyed the couple of books he needed to return to you, and wondered if he could get you to lend him the current book you were reading when you were done. He wound the cords you both used to charge your phones up into neat little circles, pausing once more when his knuckle brushed the book he had just been thinking about where it sat innocently on his bedside table.
Leo tilted his head, looked over his shoulder at the basket, and after a bare moment's hesitation he moved to look down at all the little items stacked and folded neatly inside.
He'd have to talk to you, properly, but for now he returned the books to the dresser and set your hair brush and clips carefully on top of his dresser where you could easily find them. Your clothes, he cleared out what used to be his secret snack drawer, mentally thinking he'd have to ask Donnie to order a mini fridge for himself as he tucked your clothes neatly inside, silently happy that your belongings had found space so easily in his room.
Donatello
Donnie flopped on his bed, finally, burrowing into the latent warmth you'd left in his sheets and sighing dreamily. He'd clean later, maybe, but now he just wanted to crash for a few hours so he'd be functioning when you came to visit in the evening.
Though, trying to drift off, something poked him uncomfortably in the shin. With a grumble he contorted, pushing the item up with his knee and grabbing it. Fingers running along the edge, he realized it was a hair brush, and brought it up to quint at before he realized it was yours. With a shrug, he set it on his cramped bedside table, almost knocking over your lotion and the little lamp you had added to have a little more reading light last month. He caught the object at the last minute, setting it on the floor to avoid an accident before winding his long arms underneath the extra pillows you'd decorated his bed with over the months.
It was so soft, now with all the extra blankets and small comforts, smelling of you and it caused a small churr to float from his chest. Donnie knew he'd be curled up in your arms tonight, but right now, surrounded by your scent, he could almost imagine your body pressed up against his side. It was a feeling he never took for granted, tallied in a mental calendar exactly how often he got to indulge in the sensation. Tonight, for sure, and at least three times next week....
His eyes opened slowly, squinting, calculating. He... could change that, if he really wanted. Surely enough time had past in the relationship. He set his chin on top of his fist still buried underneath the pillow, eyes glancing over to fixate on the small bundle of comfy clothes you left on top of his dresser. Mentally, he calculated his timetable, moving virtual chess pieces around until the plan started to line up to his satisfaction.
Smiling, just a touch, he closed his eyes once more, pulling the pillow closer to his beak and inhaling deeply. Tonight, he'd broach the subject, and if he was lucky he'd wake up with you against him every morning.
Michelangelo
Mikey often just assumed you knew where everything you left at the Lair ended up. When you came in, usually asking after a certain hairband or a particular sketchbook, he'd just smile and give you the same answer every time, a variation of: "it's in my room, sweetness, in it's spot."
He took pride in the fact that your belongings melded with his. He loved leaving little doodles slipped in between the pages of your books before setting them next to the stacks of comics he kept on his shelves. Never failed to wind your hair bobs back onto the handle of your brush whenever he came across them in the bathroom or in the living room before tucking it into the drawer he'd set aside for your use the first time he managed to invite you over to spend the night.
And on the rare days Mikey woke up alone, with only a pillow to cuddle and whisper good morning too, he would remind himself that he really needed to talk to you about making things permanent. Making things with him permanent. He had no doubt you'd say yes, but the nerves of actually asking never failed to send butterflies tickling the inside of his plastron.
He could do this though, he could ask you this simple question. He pepped talked himself through folding laundry, moving on autopilot to toss your folded clothes in the correct drawers next to his own. He gave himself a strict talking to about staying on point while fishing out loose pillows from underneath his bed and making sure all blankets were accounted for if not perfectly folded. He even straightened up the game area, dusted off the cases you'd gotten him over time and the game console you'd gifted him for his 'mutation day'...
He paused, giddy, holding one of the custom orange controllers, laughing at himself as he set the device back on its charging station. He was being silly, he knew. Of course you'd say yes.
#my writing requests#tmnt bayverse#bayverse leonardo#bayverse raphael#bayverse donatello#bayverse michelangelo#bayverse leo x reader#bayverse raph x reader#bayverse mikey x reader#bayverse donnie x reader
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If you’re in the mood to write a drabble what about "oh stop pouting, i'm coming.” (feat. Rooster) 💌
apparently, i was in the mood for some soft rooster ♡
warnings: minimal swearing, a smidge suggestive, short and sweet, not proofread. bradley x fem!reader.
You and Bradley are a good couple. A great one even.
You attend cooking classes and go out on dates to nice restaurants (the kind that require reservations weeks in advance and your fanciest heels) and spend almost every waking moment together.
You hadn’t been in your own apartment for six days now, spending the whole week cuddled up on his couch with his arms around you and riding shotgun with the orange blossom summer breeze warm on your skin.
You made a decision to go back to your apartment after dinner and spend the night there instead.
He gives you a long and thorough good night kiss that makes you want to drop your overnight bag and your leggings and crawl into that gorgeous California King bed with him.
You hold your ground. Get in your car, a little weak in the knees, a little dazed.
He waves from the porch, grin crooked.
A text notification chimes from your phone.
You check it at the first red light.
Miss you already.
You smile and drive.
It seemed like a good idea. Theoretically.
San Diego is too damn expensive for you to shell out half your paycheck every month for an apartment that isn’t being used. You still like your apartment. All of your favorite books and secondhand coffee mugs and clothes are here – or upon further inspection, your second favorites.
All of your favorites are at Bradley’s.
You wanted to be able to roll out of the soft sheets and come back to bed with a well-worn paperback and pour coffee from the French press into your usual mug – lovingly chipped from years of use. What is so wrong with that? Is that such a crime?
It seemed like a good idea.
Except Bradley is the one who kept your favorite ice cream sandwiches stocked in the freezer – the good kind that cost a little extra with the good chocolate – and made sure the AC was on at least 30 minutes before bedtime so the room would be cool enough for you to sleep under the comforter in the warmer months.
Everything smells sterile and wrong and not at all like Bradley
You press your cheek into the linen pillow, searching for the warm smells of coconut and salt air and him, and can’t find anything but the flowery smell of your detergent.
Sleep doesn’t come.
You call him, and Bradley answers between the first and second rings.
“Can’t sleep either?”
He chuckles into the speaker, a low and rasping sound that makes you warm from head to toe. “I miss you, darling. Don’t know how I ever slept in such a big bed without you. You caught me before I could end up on the San Diego Humane Society website.”
You laugh. “Right on time, then.”
You think Bradley would be a good Dog Dad.
You can picture him with an older rescue – an older dog from the streets who was overlooked by the families who wanted an energetic golden retriever for their children, who needed a good home and some love. They’d have the same eyes.
“Can you come over? I miss you."
He’d been in the middle of a one-sided conversation, telling you about the microwave dinner and reality show kind of night that Bradley was subjected to without you there.
He laughs again. A warm sound, not a mean one.
“You’re the one who wanted to go home, darling. You’re an independent woman and all that."
You miss him too much to defend your own reputation, to stand your ground.
You’d do anything to have him here.
“Please…”
“Don’t pout, darling. I’m coming.”
Less than 15 minutes later, Bradley slides into bed with you, wrapping his big arms around your middle and tugging you back against his chest, enveloping you in his warmth. You melt against him, comfortable for the first time all damn night.
He mumbles the question against your nape.
“When does your lease end?”
You hum. “Three months from now. I haven’t gotten the re-sign paperwork in the mail.”
“Good. Don’t re-sign.”
#birthday 🤠 drabbles#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster bradshaw x you#laracrofted writes#fic: bradley bradshaw
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Polaroids
Bucky Barnes: You find out your boyfriend’s into photography. 18+!
content warnings here!
You had dated Bucky for a few weeks now, but you had never been to his place.
“Bucky?” you call as you rap your knuckles against the wood, pressing your ear to the door to hear for his approaching footsteps, but after a few moments, they don’t sound. You try your luck at pushing down on the door handle, to find it’s unlocked.
“Bucky?” you call again, peeping your head into his home. The lights are on, and he said he would be home around this time—he would’ve called you if he changed things—so you guess he’s just busy with something else.
You call his name again as you close the door behind you and take a few steps in. The front door opens right into the living room, where some pictures are scattered on the far wall. You tilt your head at them as you drop your bag, taking slow steps to study the art.
You gasp at what you see; dozens of photos of you, that you have no idea how he got. Polaroids of you leaving work, buying groceries, having lunch, cleaning your home, even sleeping cover the wall in such density you can hardly see the white paint that lies beneath it. Everyday activities you can think of you do unconsciously, he has got to have at least five of them, all on different days.
You take a step back and squeal as your back hits something, but a cold, metal hand is over your mouth before you can scream and an arm is snaked around your waist before you can run. Holding you tight against him, Bucky kisses your temple, and then leans down to press his lips to the shell of your ear.
“You’re captivating,” he says, voice low and words spoken slowly and deliberately, falling as near-whispers to your ears, “But I can’t help but feel like you get a little shy around me, sometimes, and I don’t like that, when you act coy. So I do this,” he moves his hand from your mouth and gestures to his collage in front of you, “So I can learn about you.”
That’s how he knew all those things. Bucky had bought you a stack of novels, four of which you had been eyeing and one of which you hadn’t but had ended up adoring, but you’d never told him the kinds of books you liked, in fact, you couldn’t remember ever discussing reading with him, or ever reading in front of him, not once could you recall even holding a book in his presence. You were drawn to Bucky because he’s a great listener, but how could he know what to look out for if you’d never said it? You brushed it off, guessed that maybe the shows you watched together hinted at your taste in literature, maybe he had seen some books when he had been over to your place, or maybe just the way you spoke about life taught him what you’d look for, but still, four out of five? It seemed way too much to just be organic.
Other ways were more subtle, how he’d know just the right question to ask to get you to continue your story, how he had noted when you walked on the right side of the stairs, you tended to trip because they were slightly uneven (something you had never taken note of despite years of living in your flat), how, whenever you ate ice cream at your place, he knew exactly which spoon to give you, among others, all little things you didn’t think much of—he’s a good listener, that or he just got lucky—but, no, it was too good to be true.
“I’ve seen it all, but the one thing I’ve never seen…”
He holds you tighter still against him as his left hand reaches into his pocket. He raises it back and you hear the skint of a knife as a cold blade floats just a hair away from your throat.
“… is you bleed.”
You take in a sharp breath of air as you clutch his wrists, your right hand circling his hold around your waist and your left grasping at his vibranium hand to try to pull it away, but it doesn’t even seem he feels your efforts, let alone is affected by them.
He presses the tip of the knife against your chin, just enough to make you raise it so he can plant a soft kiss to your neck. He twists the knife and traces the flat of it along your jaw, then down the side of your neck, across your shoulder. He turns the blade to slice through the thin strap of your top, letting the string fall aside. He flips the knife closed and tucks it back into his pocket.
Slowly, he turns you to face him, your terrified gaze meeting his curious blue eyes. He studies you for a moment, then plants a kiss to your forehead and reaches to the coffee table to grab a camera. He takes a few steps back and raises it to his eye, squinting as he points the lens your way. You’re paralysed in the moment, just as you’re frozen in all the photographs behind you.
There’s a flash and a slip slides out of the slot at the front. He pulls it out and holds it between two fingers, shaking it a few times to reveal the picture. He smiles lovingly at it, like adoring the sweetest art, before flipping it to show you. Your petrified stare looks back at you, paralysed in time as you are, a few tears staining your cheeks that you hadn’t even realised had spilt.
He sets the equipment and polaroid aside before taking a step towards you; you take a step back and he stops moving, holding his hands up, palms exposed, to shoulder-level, like trying to appear friendly to a wild animal.
“Calm down,” he coos, taking very slow and small step towards you as you begin to tremble slightly. Despite his careful movements, he’s near right up against you before you realise it. He places his hands on your shoulders and moves to stand behind you, and you can do nothing but let him steer you to an armchair, your body in shock and refusing to respond.
He kneels down in front of you and smiles, brilliant white teeth nearly setting you at ease before he once again pulls out his knife and spreads your legs slightly.
He ghosts the blade over your exposed thigh, never touching, but so close you can feel the coolness radiating onto your increasingly warm skin. You grip the armrests, body growing rigid as you strain to feel for when he’ll cut you. When he does, the knife is so sharp it doesn’t even hurt as he draws a line from the middle of your inner thigh to just before your knee. You watch in horror as crimson drips and runs down to the leather of the chair, running slowly but enough to form a very small pool.
“You know you’re soaked right now,” he murmurs, maybe more to himself to you, and you snap your head away from your blood to him, but he’s focused on your crotch. He slowly turns the knife to run the handle down your slit, and you writhe and whimper at the single motion. Everything you’ve done since you’ve arrived—first your inaction and now your unconscious response to him—proves, your body could never deny him.
“Bucky…” you breathe, his name nearly coming out as a whine, maybe a plea, but for what, you aren’t sure. Bucky, though, doesn’t seem to have that problem.
He leans down and presses a kiss to your bleeding thigh before looking up at you with red lips, “I can help you out, alright?” he promises, dipping his head to leave another kiss as he slowly runs the handle of his knife up and down over your slit, still above your shorts, and you grind against it, needing more, “Just let me take some pictures…”
✪
[taglist; @cjand10]
#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#dark!bucky x reader#dark bucky x reader#dark!bucky barnes x reader#dark bucky barnes x reader#soft!dark!bucky#soft dark bucky#dark!bucky x you#dark bucky x you#dark!bucky barnes x you#dark bucky barnes x you#dark!bucky smut#dark bucky smut#dark!bucky barnes x y/n#dark bucky#dark bucky barnes x y/n#dark!avengers#dark avengers#yandere bucky barnes#marvel yandere
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TOMORROW AT ONE
SUMMARY — after spending the day with natasha, you’re not ready to let her go, but she reminds you how quickly tomorrow will come
WARNINGS — omegaverse, soulmates, mentions of panic attacks and the aftermath of panic attacks, natasha showing off some dominance
heart masterlist, previous chapter, strawberry peanut butter sandwich
You had come out of your shell significantly since your conversation with Natasha and being released from the infirmary. A once stuttering omega, you’d found your voice again, this time not so uneasy and on edge. She brought a calm over you, like waves crashing on the shore. The newfound exuberance in your being left Natasha feeling light on her feet, following just a step behind you as you led her through the city. You’d spent the last few hours talking, getting caught up in yourselves and the stupid jokes that to anyone else probably would have fallen short.
“You don’t have to walk me home, Natasha.” You whisper, stopping to look fully at the red haired assassin that's followed you protectively since leaving the convention center. Your cheeks are flush a color like her hair, and Natasha smirks playfully.
“Who said anything about taking you home?” Natasha teased. She really hadn’t intended on bringing you home so soon. It was only after seven, and although she told the boys that she would be home from the convention by three at the latest, she was sure they’d have no objections to her lateness after she told them about today's events. Natasha watched you slowly begin to tense again, making a mental note that surprises aren’t something you enjoy. At least not yet anyways. Natasha could understand. After the anxiety attack you suffered earlier, and albeit being soulmates, she was still just a stranger. She’d take her time getting to know you. Sweet and slow was how she liked it anyways. “I hope you like ice cream.”
At the prospect of at least knowing where Natasha planned to take you, your shoulders began to loosen and the rosy color of your cheeks faded, although not entirely. An innocent blush, almost childlike, somewhat whimsical, was permanently etched across your skin. You nodded, dropping your eyes from her face to her hands, noticing how they were empty, and how soft they looked. Having a million things she could’ve said to you, Natasha opted for staying quiet, and making the move for you. When her hand found yours, it was like fireworks exploded in the pit of your belly and sent sparklers down your arms and legs. Everything felt warm, but despite what you’d thought, the palms of Natashas hands were calloused.
“You let me lead the way for twenty minutes.” You spoke softly. Natasha loved how soft your voice stayed, even when you were comfortable and content. It was a stark contrast to how deep and stone Steve and Bucky were. And unlike Tony, who had a sarcastic quip for everything, You were honest and didn’t evade her point or emotions. “Why?”
“Wanted to see where you’d take me.” Natasha shrugged, “Although, I’m a bit disappointed you thought I’d let you go so early in the evening. New York's beautiful just after nine.”
“I like it at four. The sun hasn’t come up yet, but it’s starting to break apart the darkness. That’s when it’s quietest too. It’s never empty, but between four and five is when it’s the least busy. My apartment is pretty high up, I can see the stars for almost twenty minutes before everything turns orange and pink.” You blush when you realize that you’ve gotten lost on a tangent at Natasha’s simple revelation, but despite it, you think the night fits her perfectly. Just as she thinks the early mornings of New York City perfectly fit you.
“You’ll have to let me see it sometime.” Natasha smiles honestly, meaning her words fully. To spend an early morning in her soulmate's bed, watching the stars melt into sunshine sounds like the perfect way to fall in love. Especially if it’s accompanied by cuddlings and kissing, but she’ll work you up to that level.
“You’d want to?” You wondered beautifully, shocked that Natasha hadn’t made a comment about your romanticized storytelling. Most people did. Most people that you’d shared that beautiful description with had laughed in your face and told you they’d rather be asleep. They stomped on your heart without a care in the world.
“Sweetheart, I’ll watch every sunrise with you.” Natasha smiles, “And you have four other mates waiting to meet you that I know would do the same.” Your cheeks burn for a few moments before your heart sinks and you completely freeze at Natasha’s side. In seconds you revert back to the anxious girl you were at the convention center.
“Oh god! I’m so sorry! I’ve completely taken you away from them all day! I’m so sorry! You should go! Really! I didn’t mean to hold you up for so long!” You fret, avoiding Natasha’s eye. You didn’t want to see the look on your Alpha’s face now that you realized that you’d been nothing but selfish since being released from the infirmary. Guilt began to gnaw at your belly, and that familiar fuzzy feeling pulled at the clarity in your head. Most Omegas didn’t do well with guilt, it almost always caused an unexpected drop, but with your anxiety and fear of disappointing people, it presented ten times worse in you. Natasha could recognize the signs and cursed her sweet hearted Omega for being so hard on herself always.
“Y/N, sweetheart, I want to spend my time with you. I promise, the boys will understand. We’ve been so excited for when we finally got to meet our Omega. The only complaint they’ll have about me being out so late with you is that they didn’t get to steal your time themselves.” Natasha promised, hoping she’d save you from the guilt and the drop. She really didn’t want to rush into the intimacy of your relationship, and handling a drop would force her to. She wanted you to come around on her own terms. “Would it make you feel better if I text them?”
You nodded before she softly added, “Ask them if it’s okay.”
“Sweetheart, I’m second in command, I don’t need to ask anybody how I spend my time.” Natasha informed teasingly, but the persistent pout on your blush color lips was unwavering. You were worried for the feelings of her other mates, and who was Natasha to deny you the satisfied feeling of knowing they didn’t mind.
[ Natasha ] Without too much information, I’ve met our Omega. She’s incredibly worried that I’ve taken away from our time together and is hoping it’s okay with you all that I take her for ice cream before I come home.
[ Tony ] YOU MET OUR OMEGA ?!
[ Steve ] I believe an ice cream date for our Omega is the only acceptable way to spend your time
[ Tony ] STILL NOT ANSWERING MY QUESTION NAT
Natasha smiled down at the messages coming through on her phone, pulling you into her side so that you could see the messages for yourself, Natasha having a sinking suspicion that you wouldn’t have believed her if you didn't read them herself anyway. Your skin was on fire with the remnants of a persistent blush, and it only got hotter as you read what Tony and Steve had to say. You subconsciously dug your face into Natasha’s neck, letting out a sweet embarrassed whine.
[ Bucky ] Doll deserves an ice cream date, but only if we get to hear all the details not a second after you return home
You whined again, your hot breath tickling Natasha’s skin. If your mates had this effect on you when they were miles away and not even really talking to you, you knew that you were screwed to ever live another day without blushing. Natasha laughed, looping her arm tighter around your waist.
[ Natasha ] Said Omega is reading these over my shoulder. You’ve made our girl a blushing mess, FYI
Natasha’s chest trembles with laughter, feeling you huff against her neck, attempting to be mad as you dig the tips of your fingers into Natasha’s side, but all your teasingly bratty actions do is make Natasha feel like her heart is about to burst with love and admiration. For the very first time, Natasha feels completely complete and content.
“I have to be back in the area tomorrow for a meeting. I don’t want to rush into anything, but would you be up for meeting another one of our mates? Just one, we’d never want to overwhelm your pretty little head.” Natasha enlightens, tucking her phone away for the time being. She hadn’t planned on asking you until after she’d bought you ice cream and brought you home, but Natasha had a feeling you wouldn't mind.
“R-Really? I can see you again tomorrow?” The girl was in shock at Natasha’s invitation. Every nerve in your body was on fire and the skin of your soulmarks burned beautifully. Your soft hand instinctively fell down onto where the ballet slipper soulmark lay, which subsequently made Natasha’s breath hitched. God was she falling fast.
“You can see me whenever you want, dorogoy.” Natasha promised, cupping your jaw. The both of you were so close that they could feel the other exhale, and Natasha almost melted at the scent radiating off of you. She smelled sweet, like vanilla and strawberries, but a hint of rain on a spring morning was added as well. Natasha was easily addicted. All she wanted was to dig her nose into the Omega’s scent gland and memorize it; mark it. “But, I need an answer. Would you like to do that tomorrow, sweetheart?”
You nodded, your brown eyes glazing over in a beautiful submissive trance. Natasha hummed, raising an eyebrow at the blissed out Omega becoming putty in her hands. “Words, Y/N.”
“What?” You frowned before realizing what Natasha was asking, and the tips of your ears burned a dangerous shade of red. God would Tony have fun taunting you if you were always this responsive. “O-Oh, right. I would like to see you tomorrow, Natasha.” You didn’t want to see the look on Natasha’s face, your belly burning with anxiety and embarrassment at being so vulnerable despite Natasha initiating the situation, so your eyes danced along the surroundings around you.
Natasha giggled, dropping her hands from your face and again grabbing your hand. She didn’t want to lose her already floaty headed Omega in the sea of people rushing home from office jobs. You didn’t seem to mind either, taking the hand that Natasha held in her empty one and playing with her rings. Natasha’s heart was sure to burst if you kept making her stumble over her breaths with your cuteness. God, her mates really did have it out for her most days.
When they got to the small shop just around the corner from your apartment, and after Natasha opened the door for you, you melted into the superheroes side timidly. Every instinct in Natasha’s body (romantic, Alpha, dominant, maternal) burned horribly, screaming at her to protect the Omega in her arms at any and all costs. God you proving to be the sweetest girl she’d ever come across. She’d have heart problems by fifty if you kept it up like this.
“Sorry.” You whimpered, pulling away from Natasha’s side when you realized just how close to the older women you had gotten. You didn’t have to apologize, but you didn’t give Natasha any chance to tell you that before you was nervously rambling. “A-After an attack I get overstimulated a-and it’s loud in here.” You blushed profusely, wishing that you could take your words back when Natasha’s expression melted into one of regret. “It’s not your fault, I’m sorry. It’s stupid. I’m okay.”
“Honey, you never have to apologize for something out of your control. Do you hear me?” You nodded, fiddling with the clasp on Natasha’s thin chain bracelet, trying to distract yourself from the burning feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Good. You can drop your walls, sweetheart. Nothing you do could ever push me away. I know you can’t trust that just yet, but I hope I can prove it to you soon, okay? We’re going to go at your pace, dorogoy.”
“My pace?” You whispered, meeting Natasha’s eye for the first time since the infirmary. You melted at the comforting expression in her green eyes, not a trace of annoyance or judgment in her stare.
“Your pace.” Natasha confirmed, beginning to lead You towards the counter where an array of ice cream flavors was displayed. Natasha knows what she wants, and it isn’t served in those white plastic containers, but she doesn’t want to sway your decision. She has an inkling that your easily persuaded. “What’s your favorite, sweetheart?”
You look at the flavors. In truth, you aren’t crazy about ice cream, you much prefer a tropical fruit smoothie, but they’re expensive and her favorite little hole-in-the-wall cafe relocated farther into Times Square and truthfully, you couldn’t be bothered to make the trip as often anymore. That was probably good for your bank account, but not so much for your late night cravings.
“Strawberry.” You contemplated telling her the rest of your typical order. When you were younger, your siblings had tormented the hell out of you for liking what you did, and you weren’t fond of being made fun of, but Natasha had promised so many times not to do that. Natasha had promised so many times that she would be different, so you continued. “With peanut butter sauce and hot fudge.”
Natasha quirked an eyebrow, and for a second you thought that she was going to quip back at you about the disgusting combination of peanut butter and strawberries, but instead she smiled fondly. “Bucky likes peanut butter and strawberries. He’ll sneak out of bed sometimes if he can’t fall back to sleep and make peanut butter and strawberry sandwiches.”
“My mom used to make them for me. Not a sandwich, but when I was having a hard day, she would just up strawberries with some peanut butter. My brothers made fun of it more than they didn’t.” You enlightened, your eyes shining as she looked up at Natasha. God, all the assassin wanted to do was squeeze you until you popped.
“Well, I think Bucky would enjoy your company with his strawberry sandwiches. Don’t tell him I told you, but I know he gets lonely watching the sunrise alone with his snack.”
Natasha ordered for you at the counter, not even giving you a chance to worry about if you were going to have to do it yourself or not, which effectively made your knees weak, and you had squeezed Natasha’s hand in thanks. Your blush doubled when Natasha ordered a double scoop of ice cream, adding a soft whisper of praise in your ear after the employee had turned away, which hadn’t gone unnoticed. The whispered praise had been along the lines of how you’d been nothing but a good girl all day for Natasha, and you deserve the reward.
You ended up back at your apartment entirely too soon, and the pout written across your lips told Natasha that you thought as much.
“It’s just until tomorrow, sweetheart.” Natasha giggled, enjoying the sight of her pouty Omega in the dim hallway lighting. It made your eyes glow a color similar to gold. She’d never seen a shade of brown like the color of your eyes.
“Tomorrow is a far ways away.” You reminded, pulling at the hem of your soft colored shirt visibly upset. You didn’t want to seem clingy, but you’d been waiting so long to finally meet your pack, and as overwhelming as it had been and still was, Natasha was already so well versed at helping you feel safe and loved. You didn’t want to lose that for so many hours.
Natasha smiled fondly, wishing she could stay the night but she knew she couldn’t. They had just met. You were overwhelmed and overtired, and she was sure that come the morning you would be glad that you were alone in the safety and private space to understand and come to terms with all that’s happened today. “Y/N, sweetheart. I promise, first thing tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be out here waiting. Okay? No later than 1 o’clock. Go inside, get ready for bed, and think about today, okay? I want that pretty little head of yours asleep as soon as possible, you’ve had a long day.” The gentle instruction made you want to melt into the floor, your body itching to follow Natasha’s instruction and make her proud.
“You’ll sleep soon too?” You fret, and Natasha couldn’t help herself from audibly cooing at the well-intended innocent worry from her Omega.
“As soon as I tell the boys, I’ll be asleep, dorogoy.” Natasha didn’t need to tell you that she probably wouldn’t head to bed until some time after midnight, but the worried little Omega didn’t need to worry her head off about that all night, so she left it out. “Tomorrow at 1.”
“Tomorrow at 1.” You repeated, stepping into her apartment and closing the door when Natasha nodded at her one last time. Your heart was fluttering in your belly as you did as she told you to do and got ready for bed. You were asleep and dreaming about tomorrow afternoon before Natasha had even gotten home to the tower.
#natasha romanoff#tony stark#bucky barnes#steve rogers#avengers#natasha romanoff fluff#tony stark fluff#bucky barnes fluff#steve rogers fluff#avengers fluff#natasha romanoff x reader#tony stark x reader#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader#avengers x reader#natasha romanoff x omega!reader#natasha romanoff angst#tony stark angst#bucky barnes angst#steve rogers angst#omegaverse#soulmate au
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Summer time! May I ask what the axis (Prussia and Romano) have planned for the beach with their s/o versus the reality of the trip? 😂
Oh, to make this more fun I want this to be a group trip.
Happy Summer! ☀️
hetalia axis on a group beach trip with their s/o
1.1k words ~ gender neutral headcanons
tw: they think ur hot. lol. thats it.
a/n: since this is my last weekend of summer its a perfect time to do this :sobsobsob: sorry anon
Italy
Expectation
There'll be plenty of pretty girls for him to flirt with! And more importantly, one VERY pretty person that he's gonna flirt with the most.
Hopefully, this time, he won't put one foot in the water and immediately shriek about how freezing it is.
He'll spend as much time with you as he does with his friends! Plus, now you can be closer to them! Hooray!
Maybe he'll get a little bit of a workout. He's not a big swimmer, but he'll try his hardest, just to impress you.
Reality
He'll spend a little too much time trying to get Kiku to get out of his shell. If you suggest that maybe he just doesn't want... Feliciano is taking it as a personal challenge.
He doesn't get a lot of swimming done. Just enough to balance out the ice cream he got for the two of you.
He ends up teasing Ludwig a lot about how girls are staring at him-
He usually only gets hit by Romano twice! (To be fair, he was totally asking for it.)
He'll drool over you for an... uncomfortable amount of time. Luckily, he knows how to be subtle. His words are absolutely NOT subtle though!
If no one knew you were dating him before, they will now.
He cannot stop kissing you.
He can't help it, ok? You're just too cute in that swimsuit!
Germany
Expectation
Everyone will enjoy his homecooked snacks and NOT spend money unnecessarily on some overpriced trash-
He'll only have to remind you and everyone else to put on sunscreen once, and will actually do so when he tells them to.
Feliciano will not hit his head on the bottom of the pool diving again, and if he does, Ludwig will not be the one who has to drive him to the doctor. Again.
Nothing will go wrong. Okay, something will go wrong, but it'll be something minor... please...
Reality
All of his friends constantly interrupt the two of you and drag you off to do something stupid
He was so careful! But... he still got sunburned on his back.
Halfway through the trip, he's done swimming because he's tired of Romano splashing him in the face when he's trying to get some ACTUAL EXCERCISE-
One of the lifeguards is a stupid teenager and of course, Ludwig is the one who ends up saving some poor kid. (He did not have to volunteer! But you know, “If I didn't, who would?”)
Everyone stares because god lord that man is shredded to hell and back.
( Someone tries hitting on him and he's so uncomfortable he pretends he doesn't speak English and runs away)
He still has a lovely time, because you're around, and that's all he needs to be happy.
Japan
Expectation
No one will talk to him. No one will look at him. It will not be too hot and he won't have to swim. Please. Please do not make him swim.
Actually, you can talk to and look at him. Maybe Ludwig can. But only that.
Hopefully, he won't be forced to eat terrible beach food. He packed a sandwich. That's enough, right?
All he wants is to sit in the shade with you and read quietly, away from all the noise and heat of the beachfront.
Reality
Feliciano is gonna drag him in the water, and he'll trip. And fall. Into the water. And he'll be all wet for the rest of the day. And he'll hate it. So much.
Barely gets to read his book for multiple reasons.
Halfway through the trip, he's completely wiped out from the heat. You'll probably have to help with sunscreen, too.
Anytime any of you bring him down to the water, he tries to bring up a bunch of random facts to get you to stop.
(”Don't you know there's jellyfish in this country? I do not want to get stung!“ ”THIS IS A LAKE!“)
Kiku is much more suited for an arcade than a beach. He's too much of an old man for it. He's glad you're having fun, though.
Romano
Expectation
You'll pass out from how hot he is
He WON'T give in and eat any of the disgusting, insulting beach food.
He'll be able to completely ignore everyone but you, including the stupid, loud Germans!
The heat won't bother him. He's a Mediterranean country for god's sake, he's used to it being hot!
Hopefully, and he really prayed for this, he'll get a nice tan and not more sunburnt.
Feliciano won't interrupt his peace and relaxation. And if he does, he won't run away as Romano tries to smack him with a rolled-up magazine.
Reality
He ends up getting super insecure about his body in comparison to everyone else (Cough, cough, Ludwig and Gilbert,) and you'll have to coax him to not constantly wear his towel.
Any time not spent bothering others is spent with you while relaxing in a pool floatie.
He's so unused to exercise that he gets hungry and tired almost immediately.
He tries his best to ignore the other beachgoers in favour of you, but he can't stop getting annoyed by everyone else OR subtly flirting with others.
(He's just in a bad mood, he doesn't mean any of it.)
As soon as he sees you, he can't help staring. He just thinks you're so stunning when you're wearing so little...
Prussia
Expectation
He's gonna get so sunburnt that he's in pain for weeks.
You and him are gonna race in the water, and he's gonna WIN!
He'll finally get to show off his rockin' bod without being seen as a douchebag.
Plus, he'll get to see your body too. Even better.
(I'm telling you now, if your stomach spills out of your swimsuit, he's gonna get so attracted to you, he'll get dizzy and have to sit down.)
When (If) girls stare at him for being so hot, he'll get to show off that he's dating YOU, which in his opinion, you're even hotter than him. Then they'll get jealous and stop looking at him! (Not how that works, but whatever.)
Reality
He's gonna get so sunburnt that he's in pain for weeks. This is inevitable.
Gilbert will quickly become pretty bored just swimming, so you and him will build a nice big sand castle (He insists on making one replicating a castle he used to live in.)
He'll sneak up behind Ludwig and grab his ankles, swimming away before he can see him. Just for fun.
He's gonna ask you if you're drowning. Regardless of what you say, he's picking you up bridal style and carrying you out of the water. Just because he thinks it'd be hot. (”I'm saving you, Liebling! I take kisses in payment-“)
Romano will hate it, but Gilbert definitely will try to force him down a slide if there are any.
#heta tag#hetalia x reader#hetalia imagines#feliciano tag#ludwig tag#kiku tag#gilbert tag#romano tag#aph prussia x reader#hws germany x reader#hws japan x reader#aph japan x reader#hws prussia x reader#aph germany x reader#aph italy x reader#hws italy x reader#aph romano x reader#hws romano x reader#romano vargas x reader
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For @firefly-party mine beloved wifi, who asked for steddie, and rain against a window.
There is much to be said about living in a trailer, but Eddie always loved laying in his bed and listen to the rain as it was beating against the roof with fierce determination.
Might be a bit cliché, but look, it's cliché for a reason. right?
Knowing that it's shitty and cold outside, knowing you are comfortable and warm inside, preferably wrapped up in as many blankets as you own, there is just something universal about that.
It's different after the upside down. It doesn't feel as safe, because some nights during a thunderstorm, he is not sure what is beating the roof, not sure what is reaching for him.
It's also different, because instead of the trailer, he is in a shitty apartment now. Walls stained with time and smoke and cheap landlord's poor taste in wallpaper, windows permanently sealed shut for the same reasons.
And because he is not alone.
Maybe that is the biggest part, actually. The best part, too.
The bed is probably a little too narrow for two people, but they make do by tangling themselves so close together it's hard to say where Eddie begins and where Stevie ends.
The duvet is bunched down by their waists, Steve's leg hooked around Eddie's calf, Eddie's arm across Steve's back, Steve's breath against Eddie's collarbones.
Eddie was never particularly hairy himself, despite his huge mop of hair, and that just allows him to feel the smattering of chest hair pressed against him, and the trail leading from Steve's belly button down his boxers.
The air is stale with sleep and sweat, the morning grey through their too short curtains.
Eddie is enjoying the sensation between sleep and wakefulness, where you are aware enough to feel, but asleep enough to drift.
The fog clears only when Steve stirs, shifting closer and nuzzling into the crook of Eddie's neck.
The rain outside has yet to give up its fierceness, true to the season, but without the roof of the trailer, without the thin layer of metal making out the husk of his previous home, it feels different.
Instead of hiding underneath a leaf, he feels like he finally found a burrow, a home.
Not a very good one, objectively, but his nonetheless. His and Steve's.
Jesus, Eddie finds it hard to believe sometimes.
Steve shifts again and makes a sound, something that sounds like half a snore, half a word, and Eddie finds himself smiling. That famous hair is a right mess, sticking up in every direction, exposing Steve's forehead.
Rain makes him soft, Eddie thinks, as he leans down the few inches it takes to press his lips to that perfectly kissable forehead.
On the floor above them, Eddie can make out the sounds of their neighbors waking up, but he isn't ready for that yet.
It's warm, cozy, safe.
Steve gives a content sigh and his arm tightens around Eddie, before it travels up, his hand reaching Eddie's neck, under his hair, his thumb just touching the shell of Eddie's ear.
"We should probably get up," Steve mutters, eyes still closed, lips pouty in the way they are when his cheek is pressed against the pillow.
"Probably," Eddie agrees, lips still against Steve's forehead. Pulling away is impossible, this moment feels like it is plucked out of time, a bubble of their own. "But when was I ever known to make good choices?"
"Hmmmmm," Steve supplies, and Eddie takes that as Steve disagrees, that Eddie is full of infinite wisdom. Good man.
Along Steve's back, Eddie can track moles, like a star chart written in Braille, just for him to read.
Maybe Steve will let him draw them out again, the sharpie only stayed visible for a few days.
"Did you buy eggs?" Steve says, keeping his eyes stubbornly closed as he plays with Eddie's ear, making him shudder.
"Yeah. And ice cream. Today is an ice-cream-for-breakfast-day." Eddie declares, leaning backwards to pull Steve half on top of him.
That's it, he realizes. That is what he was missing. The weight, the security of another person, the proof of being loved and trusted in ways he only imagined back in that trailer, with the world closed off, still only a thin metal wall away.
"Nancy will have my head if I'm late," Steve grumbles, but moves to fill the spaces where Eddie is not, covering him as much as he can.
"Can't be late if you don't go in," Eddie says with his infinite wisdom, cradling Steve closer, closer, close is never close enough.
"Can't fault that logic," Steve huffs. "I really don't want to get up."
"So stay," Eddie whispers.
He doesn't realize how much he needed to hear it, how much he needs Steve, until he says it.
"Always," Steve promises, promises always, always, always, whenever Eddie asks.
The rain doesn't let up until lunchtime. Steve is only let go to empty his bladder, and Steve stays, stays, always stays.
Rainy days are the best.
#steddie#fluff#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#rainy day#cuddles#soft bois for the wife#dapanda writes
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much ado about nothing chapter 5 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.
i have successfully kicked my writer's block to the curb and am ready to pick back up on plug!eren!!!! woohoo!! this is the part of the story where it gets really plot heavy and there's a lot of moving parts, so it's been a fun exercise to write and brainstorm. if anything is confusing or u have any theories/questions PLEASE hit my inbox i'm so down bad for plug eren i could talk about him for days.
get ready to meet a new character who is......not the best lol. this is also the first chapter written in eren's pov :o things are about to get interesting!
still haven't caught up? series masterlist HERE <3
specific cws: mentions of smut but nothing outright, alcohol use, swearing, u know the drill
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“If music be the food of love, play on. / Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, / The appetite may sicken and so die.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)
Eren is, admittedly, a romantic person, especially given his occupation. Not romantic in the cheesy, buying-flowers and kissing-in-the-rain sense, but he appreciates the little details of life. He loves autumn, when the leaves catch on fire with the changing of the season. He loves the little crook of a woman’s neck, that slope where it goes from tendon to shoulder to collarbone. He can appreciate a good bourbon; after years of raiding his dad’s stash, he developed a palate for it early on. Eren’s romantic nature leads him to believe in signs. When the universe tells him something, he listens.
The text still sat in his inbox unopened, marinating in its own bizarre, heartbreaking nature.
> heyyyy lover boy! i’m back from austria! missed u, let’s catch up ;)
Eren knows that Breeze knows him, knows him well enough to understand that his three-week radio silence isn’t a no, it’s a maybe. He hates himself for not immediately texting her back and telling her to fuck off, but after his conversation with you, he thinks it might be the universe telling him it’s safe this time, that he won’t end up a shell of himself. Maybe.
You had been firm in your assertion that you and Eren were better off as friends, and as much as he wanted to fight it, Eren respects women. As much as he can when he’s prone to wrenching their jaws open and spitting in their mouths while he’s balls deep inside them, at least. He’s disappointed, but he respects it, and if he’s honest, he likes you.
He likes your sharp humor, likes the way you tend to keep your hair up off of your neck, likes the way your eyes light up when someone gives you an excuse to talk about your studies. He hasn’t been “just friends” with a woman in a long time, but it’s refreshing, an excuse to go grab a coffee and shoot the shit like a normal person instead of lurking in the corner of a frat party handing out pills like a perverse ice cream truck.
The last three weeks of “friends” have been the best Eren’s had in a long time. You’re easy, that’s what he likes about you. He can drop the cold mask he wears so often, giggle over a stupid meme, listen intently as you prattle on about some long-dead 18th-century author that was “so ahead of her time!”, smirk when you chastise him for doodling little hearts and flowers all over your coursework.
Sure, he still steals a glance down your shirt when he can, and he’d never admit it, but he thinks about you late at night. He thinks about you when he’s in the shower, when he’s got himself in his hand, panting and swearing under his breath, but he manages to feel enough guilt over it to still consider you a friend. You’re caring and considerate and easy, wholesome fun, unlike someone that’s made a sudden reappearance into his life.
After that first night, just when he was starting to entertain the thought of promoting you from one night stand to official fuck buddy, the closest thing to commitment Eren allows himself to maintain these days, Breeze swept back into his life, and you hit the brakes on him. While it may not have been the sign he wanted to receive, Eren’s a romantic, and he listens to the universe, especially when it goes so far out of its way to tell him something.
He’s decided to let Breeze stew for a little while longer. Campus will be clearing out for Thanksgiving break soon, along with most of his business, and he’s going to wait until his hands are empty of work and you before answering her. Plus, she had flitted off to Europe after college like their entire relationship had been nothing more than a passing phase; Eren’s owed at least a little bit of pettiness, right?
> paradise ath 1130! see uthere ;)
Eren snorts at your text. Being as uptight as you are about grammar (you’re constantly hounding him about his texting style, and he’s been making them even more incorrect just to hear you berate him), he knows you’re not just texting quickly, you’re drunk.
“Yo, ‘min!” Eren calls into the kitchen, an excited flutter already rising in his chest beneath his hoodie.
“Yeah?” Armin’s head pops around the doorframe, a dab of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.
“Wanna go to Paradise later?”
“The club?” Armin’s nose wrinkles. Connie’s head appears right beside Armin, a wide grin splitting his face.
“Oh, hell yeah,” Connie answers for both of them before Armin has the chance to shoot the idea down, “who’s going?”
“Like you don’t know the answer to that,” Armin scoffs, ducking back into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.
“I never took her for a ‘club’ type of girl,” Connie adds air-quotes to emphasize his confusion.
Eren mulls that over for a moment; he doesn’t really take you for a club type of girl either, but from the sound of it, Historia and Sasha have already done the job of getting you good and drunk and talking you into a night on the town. Eren’s always wanted to see what you’re like when you’re well and truly fucked up; every time you indulge him with a story from college, he ends up laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach and gasping for breath.
Supposedly, when you go all out, you drop the mom-friend act and become a little less tame; is this Eren’s opportunity to get an eyeful for himself? He’s not waiting around to find out.
Eren shrugs. “Come help me make these runs and we’ll go. Armin, you’re driving.”
The drop-offs are uneventful, and as soon as Eren steps foot inside the club, his nose scrunches with distaste. Ironically, he’s never been into the partying scene, much preferring a quiet beer at Scout’s or a blunt on the couch to a club. The music’s horribly loud, bass thudding through the fabric of his hoodie and beating against his chest, and as he looks for you, he can barely see through the mass of bodies and the fog machines. You’re here? It’s difficult for Eren to imagine you, in your favorite flannel and those cute little Vans he likes, tucked against the bar throwing back your signature craft beer. As Connie urges him and Armin in the direction of the bar, calling for green tea shots, Eren nearly regrets his decision, until fingernails dig into his shoulder, spinning him on his heels.
“Hey, you.”
Eren blinks stupidly as you grin up at him through thick, black lashes. He’s never even dared to imagine you like you are now, piercing eyes gazing up at him through a heavy dusting of makeup and the shortest, tightest dress Eren’s ever seen hugging every inch of your curves. You look sinful in a way he’s never seen you before, not even when he was holding you tight to him and wrenching out orgasm after orgasm from your body. He gulps.
“Holy shit– hey,” he lets you pull him in for an overexcited hug, bites down on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the bulge already swelling in his pants.
“I missed you!” You pinch his cheeks, much to Eren’s dismay.
“Just saw you yesterday– quit pinchin’ me. What are you even doing here? Didn’t think this was your scene.” Eren has to actively keep his eyes trained on your face; there’s a little bead of sweat traveling down the expanse of skin between your breasts that’s making his mouth water. Friends, he scoffs in his mind. Are you trying to kill him?
“Well, it’s not, but Sasha says I need to be more fun, and Stor says I need to find a boyfriend.” You gesture around like it’s obvious. Eren cocks an eyebrow, ignoring the inappropriate envy that twists in his stomach at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’.
Boyfriends never like the guy friends, it’s practically a law of nature. If you’re dating around, it’s only a matter of time before some square in a button-down steals you away from your coffee dates and movie nights with Eren, but he can’t get too caught up in that now, not when you’re looking up at him all dizzy and sexy and bursting at the seams.
“Don’t know if this is the place for that.”
“That’s what I said!” Oh, you’re drunk drunk, all of your movements overexaggerated and shaky. It makes him want to laugh seeing you like this; his little book nerd, trashed and mere inches away from having her ass out at a club. Well, either laugh or drag you into the bathroom to bend you over the sink. He can’t be sure.
“Hey mama!” Connie shouts over at you, handing you a shot. Eren has half a mind to snatch it out of his hand after catching the slurring in your voice, but he’s too late; you throw it back without so much as a shudder, grinning all wide and wet and pretty when you swallow.
“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you tell him, pulling him down by his collar so you can speak into his ear. Eren has to bite back a groan at the feel of your hot lips against his ear. Friends, he reminds himself urgently, pushing you back from him but keeping his hands firm on your hips, relishing in the way your flesh gives under his grip.
“You know the rules. You call, I come.”
“That’s what she said,” you snicker, pinching his cheek again.
“Cut that out!”
“Make me.” Oh fuck, Eren’s going to die. He’s going to die if you keep looking at him like that, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and fuck-me eyes on him.
“You’re not being very friendly,” he manages to choke out, trying his hardest to give you a suspicious look through the dizzying wave of images that flash through his brain. You with your mouth full of him. You spread out on his bed, back arched and fingers twisted in his hair. The little “o” your mouth made when you rode him for the first time. Eren wants to smack himself, jump in a cold shower, something. Get a grip, dude.
“Maybe not,” you shrug, eyes darting over to the bar. “Hurry up and grab a drink, I wanna dance.”
“Not much of a dancer,” Eren admits, taking the beer that Connie hands him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work.”
Eren isn’t sure if he likes or loves the sound of that, powerless against that stupid little dress you’ve got on as you drag him behind you to the mass of bodies he had so disdainfully eyed on his way in. He’s greeted by a loud round of shrieking, one more pinch to the cheek by Historia and a slap on the ass from Sasha. You make a show of teasing him for how pink his face gets, but luckily, your friends are instantly distracted by Armin and Connie’s arrival right behind him. You pull him back down, glossy lips pressed right against his ear.
“I really like this song.” You’re barely audible over the pounding music, but even if Eren hadn’t heard what you said, he’d get the gist from the way you grind against his thigh, slow and sensual. Maybe you are actually trying to kill him.
“Yeah?” He’s breathless, irreparably and embarrassingly caught in the little web you’ve woven.
“Yeah.” You’re moving harder against him now, throwing your arms around his neck and grinding your hips into his. Eren’s only thought is to let his hands fly back to your hips, let you use him like a stripper pole to show off.
He can feel eyes on him, not the eyes of friends, but of other men around him, wondering who the lucky asshole is that’s getting the royal treatment from a girl as hot as you. If he were to be truthful, it’s getting him off, how every eye is on you and, by proxy, him, holding you like a lifeline as you let the beat rock through your body.
So this, this is the party girl you claim to have living deep inside you. This seductive, electric creature moving tantalizing against his body, this is the source of the stories Historia tells him that make you blush? How you could ever be embarrassed of this is beyond him; you’re like a little devil, sent straight from hell just to torture him, and Eren’s mouth is watering.
Song after song goes by, and you don’t let up, don’t let him catch his breath for a moment, moving from facing him to pressing your ass into his crotch and then back again, arms above your head or wrapped around his neck. Eren wishes he was mentally sound enough at the moment to feel ashamed that you can absolutely feel how hard he is through his pants right now, but he’s drunk on you, letting you press into him so insistently he has to tug your dress down for you, letting you drive him so crazy that he’s grateful for the loud music now. He’d die if Connie or Armin could hear the way he’s grunting and groaning low under his breath, powerless underneath you.
Suddenly, as if you haven’t just been riling him up for the last half hour, you back away enough to face him, shaking your empty cup and him and mouthing something that Eren’s still too dizzy to make out.
“Huh?”
“Get me another drink!” you shout over the bass, laughing at him.
Eren nods stupidly, darting away from you before he can grab your jaw, pull your lips to his like he so desperately wants to. Finally out of the throng of bodies, he can feel his head clearing, some semblance of sanity crashing over him. What the fuck has gotten into him? It was just one night, and you’ve kept him at arm’s length ever since, only seeing each other under the guise of coffee, or a beer, or Eren insisting you need to continue your education in the wonders of horror films. You’re drunk, that’s the only explanation; drunk and teasing him like you aren’t going to wake up and throw him right back into the friendzone. He rests both elbows on the bar, shaking his head like he’ll be able to knock some sense into himself if he rattles his brain around a little.
Eren orders your vodka soda and a beer and a shot for himself, something to clear his head and keep his blood pressure manageable. Hopefully, at least.
When he turns around, drinks in hand, that plan flies out the door. There you are, center of the dance floor, hands above your head and hips moving like you’re intentionally trying to make him lose his fucking mind. He tilts his head in interest when a man approaches you, grazes his hands over your hips like he means to start grinding against you. Eren can feel his own hands tightening around the bottle and the plastic cup in his hand, but he holds himself back; he’s got no claim on you, and if you’re willing to entertain the man (who, if you ask Eren, is way below your standards), who is Eren to stop you?
You surprise him in the best way: when the man touches you lightly, you whip around, brows furrowed and a little glitter in your eyes so mean that even Eren nearly flinches. He can’t read your lips in the low light, but he snorts to himself anyway as the man puts his hands up and backs away from you, eyes wide. As if nothing had happened, you spin back on your heel, facing a cackling Sasha with a shrug.
Eren feels a wide, proud smile blooming on his face. As much as he feels an unwarranted protectiveness towards you, he likes watching you get your teeth out and stand up for yourself. Before he can make his way back over to tease you, a voice from his left makes his blood run cold.
“Rennie?!”
Two thin arms are tossed around his neck before Eren can even respond, the familiar scent of vanilla and coconut enveloping him.
“Breeze?” Eren chokes out, too shocked to keep his composure. She pulls away from him and grins, a little diamond glittering from her right canine tooth.
“You didn’t text me back, you tease,” she swats at his chest, snags the vodka soda he’d bought for you right out of his hand, taking a sip. Eren takes the opportunity to swallow hard around the lump in his throat, one last tentative glance towards you before he turns his gaze back to Breeze.
She’s cut her hair, something short and choppy that swings around her ears, and fuck, she’s still just as pretty as he remembers, little freckles on her button nose visible in the darkness of the club.
“Didn’t think you wanted to see me,” Eren shrugs, forcing his face to remain schooled into one of cold apathy. She had left him, like he was nothing to her. He hates her, he realizes, god, he hates her so much it burns in his veins. Breeze cocks her head, frowning.
“Why would you think that?”
“You fucking left me, Breeze, don’t be stupid,” Eren makes a move to steal the drink back from her, but she holds it close enough to her chest that he’d have to practically grope her to take it, and his fingers recoil at the realization.
“Are you double-fisting, or did you buy this for someone special?” She teases, brushing right over Eren’s bristly demeanor. When he doesn’t answer, she raises her eyebrows. “It’s for someone. Well, point her out! Is she cute?”
Breeze turns on her heel, standing on her tiptoes to glance through the crowd. Before he can stop himself, Eren’s grabbing her upper arm, spinning her back to face him with anger blazing in his eyes. When he meets her gaze, her baby blues are alight with mischief, and he knows that no matter which direction he moves, he’s losing whatever little game she has him trapped in. That was the thing about Breeze; Eren was always losing her games.
“Fuck, just…just stop it, Breeze. What are you even doing here?”
“I’m back in town, didn’t you see my text?” Breeze shrugs innocently, sipping your drink.
“Okay, well, welcome back,” Eren deadpans, leaving her question hanging in the air between them. He turns back to the bar to order another cocktail for you, having given up hope of getting the first one back from Breeze, but she’s relentless, has always been that way. She slides up to the bar beside him, smiling demurely up at him.
“I missed you, you know.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. Breeze flinches, but Eren knows her better than that. It’s all an act, it always is.
“I never realized how much I hurt you,” her fingers grazing over his cheek nearly burn with how cold they are in contrast to the heavy, thick air around them, “‘m sorry, Rennie.”
“It’s fine.” Eren hates the way he twitches and nearly leans into her touch when she swipes her fingers over him. How many times has he thought about this, seeing her again after all these years? Everything he’s planned out, everything he’s ever wanted to say is lodged in his throat, a jumble of letters and words so squished out of order that they no longer hold meaning. He doesn’t love her, not anymore, but his body reacts before his brain can stop it, a conditioned response.
“Can we talk about it soon? Maybe over coffee?” Blue eyes blinking up at him earnestly.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Breeze,” Eren rolls his eyes, swallowing thick around the knot in his throat.
“There is,” she insists, “I brought this amazing espresso blend back with me from Florence, and–”
“If I say yes, will you leave me alone for tonight?” Eren can feel the exasperation in his tone, can feel the weight of his mistake weighing on his shoulders. It’s fine, he tells himself, he’ll make up some excuse and get out of it. A long conversation with Breeze about their breakup is the last thing he needs.
“Maybe,” Breeze tucks her lip in between her teeth, a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “unless you change your mind.”
“We can talk or whatever another time, but I’m going back to my friends, okay? Go find yours.”
“You’re my friend,” Breeze purrs, one hand stroking over Eren’s bicep, “and I haven’ seen you int–”
“Don’t push it,” Eren nearly growls, scowling down at her. He knows half of the hatred buzzing through his veins is reserved for himself, but he’ll unpack that at home with a blunt, not in the middle of the club with you waiting for him on the dance floor and Breeze staring up at him hungrily.
“Always wound so tight,” Breeze hums, reaching a hand up to squish his cheeks, “but fine. I’ll see you soon.”
She miraculously leaves him there with nothing but a wink, taking your vodka soda with her; Eren’s shoulders slump in relief. Knowing Breeze, it was a wonder she hadn’t tackled him right there. When he turns around for the second time, two drinks in hand, you’re already staring at him. Shit.
You don’t look mad– and why would you be? You’re friends, Eren reminds himself. There’s no reason for you to know who Breeze is; he’s never told you about her, and he never planned on doing so. Eren knows Historia, though, well enough to believe that she told you everything from the godforsaken moment he walked into your apartment that day.
He doesn’t like that look you’ve got, though; again, not mad, but he can see the gears turning behind your eyes. Eren has to practically force himself to walk towards you. Your head’s cocked in confusion, something watery and hesitant glimmering in your eyes through the low lighting. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you almost look hurt, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? You didn’t want him, you had made that abundantly clear.
“Sorry it took me a while. Long line.” Eren hands you your drink, nearly wincing at how naturally the clearly false statement rolls off his tongue.
“Mhm,” you nod, downing nearly half of your drink in one long slurp. Your movements aren’t fluid and dynamic anymore; you’re stiff as a board, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet along to the beat of the song. “I…I actually have to pee, do you mind holding this?”
“Now?” Eren blinks, confused. “I just got your drink.”
You offer him a tight smile. “I wanted to wait ‘til you were back, so you could watch my drink. And so you didn’t think I ran off on you or something.”
“Oh, yeah, go ahead.”
He watches you slink away into the crowd, watches the dozens of eyes follow you, surely wondering what happened to the little firecracker in the middle of the dance floor. Eren knows you get like this sometimes, suddenly pensive and nostalgic, knows that per your own admission, you like to handle it yourself. He hadn’t done this to you, had he?
A firm pinch to his cheek distracts him, pulls him down a foot below his normal standing height. Could everyone just stop pinching his fucking face? “Shit, ow!”
“Was that Breeze?” Historia yells directly into his ear. Eren, six-foot-something of hell on wheels, blushes furiously.
“Dude, was that fucking Breeze, or am I too fucked up?” Connie echoes Historia’s sentiment from over her shoulder, eyes comically wide. Armin’s peering around him, eyes flitting back and forth between Eren, Connie, and Historia as he tries to understand what’s happened.
“Who cares?” Eren snaps at Connie. Historia’s grip on his face loosens, releases entirely. If Eren didn’t like the look that you had given him, he hates the look Historia’s shooting at him right now. All daggers and disappointment. She turns on her heel without another word, making a beeline for the bathroom and dragging Sasha along behind her. Eren doesn’t miss Armin’s eyes either; stripping him to the bone without saying a word.
“Quit looking at me like that,” Eren scoffs, waves a hand in Armin’s direction.
“When did Breeze get back into town?” Armin shouts over the music.
“A few weeks ago,” Eren admits, avoiding Armin’s eyes and looking for a spot at the bar where he can escape the heavy gazes of his friends, run away to drown this conversation in a shot of whiskey.
“Did you–”
“I don’t know, man, you know how she is. She just showed up.” Eren knows he’s being unnecessarily gruff, but in his defense, the last hour or so has been a whirlwind of memory and emotion and lust that he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.
Armin nods simply, takes a sip of his beer. Eren’s known Armin since they were kids, and he knows Armin can read him like a book. If he had a little less pride, Eren would pull Armin to the side and ask if he can make any sense of what’s going through Eren’s head right now because Eren sure as hell can’t. There’s you, with your skimpy dress and your flirty eyes, grinding on him like you’re going to take him home and fuck him stupid again, like you hadn’t demanded an honest-to-god friendship that Eren happens to very much enjoy. On the other hand, there’s Breeze, flighty and just as much of a ghost as she is a real person, popping back into his life and batting her blue eyes at him like she’d never left.
You’re his friend, and Breeze is his terrible ex. There shouldn’t be a choice here– there isn’t, it’s just the way things are, but Eren feels stuck at a crossroads for some reason.
He finally gets fed up with the music and the bumping of bodies around him and storms off to the bar again, biting back the urge to snap at Connie and Armin who he knows are hot on his heels. Eren’s just looked up from the shot of whiskey burning its way down his throat, acknowledging the dizziness that’s come with his drinks for the night, when he spots you.
You don’t look angry, that’s a small mercy you unwittingly grant him, but you’re cowering. Historia, even being shorter than you, is practically pinning you to the wall outside of the bathroom, shouting at you with her finger in your face. Sasha doesn’t look all too pleased either, arms crossed and a deep scowl written into her features. Eren gets a glimpse of your phone in Historia’s other hand that she’s waving around erratically, and wonders what the hell happens in women’s bathrooms. He’s not exactly sure what prompts it, but he checks his own phone. Nothing.
“Are they fighting?” Connie asks, nose scrunched as he peeks around Eren’s arm.
“Looks like it,” Armin nods, wincing as you try to make a grab for your phone from Historia, resulting in Sasha saving you at the last second from face-planting as Historia holds it out of your reach.
“Should we, like, do something?”
“Absolutely not,” Armin and Eren echo each other, looking at Connie as if he’d just suggested they all walk into oncoming traffic.
Eren watches as Historia grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the bar, your feeble protests doing nothing to stop her insistent steps. Sasha follows both of you, gently pushing you along by the small of your back and shooting a regretful glance at Connie, mouthing a sorry as you all make your exit. It’s hardly been five minutes before Eren’s phone buzzes.
> had to leave. do you mind paying our tab if i venmo you? it’s under reiss.
Eren bites the inside of his cheek again, not worrying in the slightest about covering the tab, but more so the reason for your abrupt exit.
> yeah i got u everything ok?
> thanks a ton! see u next time.
It’s purposefully avoidant, especially coming from Historia, who never misses a chance to make fun of you good-naturedly. If you had been sick in the bathroom or far too drunk to stay, she would have come out and said it. Eren throws his card down, going to pay the hefty tab you and your friends racked up, but not daring to pay his own. After all of the shit that’s just gone down, he owes himself at least one more drink.
Once he’s signed, he pulls out his phone again, thumb hovering over your text thread, then Breeze’s, then yours again. Mindful of Armin’s prying eye over his shoulder, Eren sighs heftily and shuts his phone off, leaning in to order another shot. The following morning’s approaching quickly, whether he wants it to or not, and he’ll save his fucked-up emotions for the daylight.
#enjoyyyyy#sorry about no smut again but like#we have to get through some PLOT okay#also don't drink and text/call is the lesson from this chapter#trust me it'll make sense#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger series#aot x reader#eren jaeger fanfic#much ado about nothing#much ado universe
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Support System pt. 6
MASTERLIST
CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5
Roy Kent x Reader
Are you ready? Cos we get really very spicy now my friends so.... be warned. Also, good god I think I'm in love with Roy Kent.
Chapter 6
She pushes the phone into your hand so you have no choice but to bring it to your ear, you still watch Roy who's moved to the otherside of the room. Your heart is still pounding and you feel like you've been given an electric shock.
"Yeah?" You ask into the phone.
"Can we talk?"
"Umm, we've just got back from the beach. I'll get Lexie settled and call you back?" You hang up without waiting for any real response.
"I'd better go." He says.
"Thanks for a cool day Roy! Thanks for winning my unicorn teddy and the ice creams and for letting me go on your shoulders and… and… everything!" Lexie says jumping from foot to foot.
"Thank you for the best day Lex. We should go again in the summer."
"Yeaaaaaah! Can we mum?"
"Of course we can bunny. Let's get you ready for bed, huh?" She zooms into the living room to gather up the new toys for her room while you see Roy to the door. "I'll see you soon?" You sound unsure, you've no idea where his head is at after the kiss. No idea where your own head is, really. You still feel a little dizzy from it and the coil in your belly is wound even tighter.
"Yeah, see you soon." His eye catches the sunburn on your shoulders, now joined by beard burn and a little bite mark. He brushes it lightly with his finger and you can't help but lean into him. "Should have put some more cream on." He says quietly before closing the door behind him. You're left in the hallway in a weird limbo of being disappointed that he left and unbelievably turned on. It wasn’t fair, you should be on cloud 9. Instead, you head upstairs and concentrate on real life. You get Lexie into the bath and bed before doing the same yourself. You reluctantly pick up your phone to call Andy back, seeing that Sara has sent some pictures from the day with plenty of sunshine, ice cream and beer emojis on a group message to both you and Roy. There’s the kids playing in the sand, you and the girls looking at the shells you’d collected, one of you pointing and laughing at something out of focus - head thrown back, sunkissed and happy. In the picture, Roy is next to you but he’s not looking at whatever it is that’s got your attention, he’s looking at you. There are others - really great photos, a selfie of the three of you and then one of the five of you. They make your heart flutter. You respond with a heart emoji, not quite able to put into words just how much they all mean to you - and that’s without confronting your growing feelings for Roy. The photos were exactly what you needed for your next task. You press Andy’s contact picture and let it ring.
“Thanks for calling back.” You’re surprised, it’s the most civilised he's been for months.
“Sorry it took a while. We both needed to get half a beach off us.”
“Did you have a good day? Did you go alone?”
“We went with one of Lexie’s friends from school. It was a lovely day.”
“She said you’re changing jobs.”
“Yeah, handed my notice in last week. I’ve got about 6 weeks left.”
“You… don’t need to do that you know. Maybe we could work something out?”
“What do you mean?”
“I miss you.”
“Are you pissed?”
“No! Why?”
“You’ve been an absolute fucking nightmare for months - you’ve punished me and belittled me and shamed me for having a better job than you and what? Now I’m giving it up, you think we can get back together? Are you for real right now?” You’re trying to keep your voice down but you don’t think you’ve felt a rage like this in your life. Not even when you were both fighting constantly.
“I just thought it would be good for Lexie, mum and dad together, making it work?” He mumbled.
“What’s good for Lexie is a happy family life - even if that’s separately. Making it work? Making both of us miserable more like.”
“I wasn’t miserable with you.”
“You had an odd way of showing it Andy. You’ve barely laid a finger on me for years, you criticise everything I do. I’m sorry, I can’t make Lexie happy by destroying myself in the process. I deserve to be really, really loved and you can’t do that. What’s this really about?” You’ve stripped away his arguments, Lexie being his trump card, he has no comeback.
“Lexie keeps talking about your new friends. I just thought… is there anything I can do to change-”
“No Andy, you’ll never change my mind on this. I wish I’d been brave enough to leave you rather than wait for you to leave me to be honest. We won’t talk about this again. Goodnight.” Absolute wanker! You hang up and grab a pillow to scream into. Jealousy, of course. You’d seen it briefly when you’d gone to his flat to pick Lexie up when she’d been poorly but because you’d seen him so rarely recently it hadn’t really registered. You could laugh, it’s only taken him the best part of 8 years for him to actually feel anything for you.
The next couple of days are a blur of Easter holiday club for Lexie and work for you. There’s still no luck on the job front which makes you nervous, and Andy’s done you the decency of not calling you again. You’d naively hoped that he’d woken the next morning with a hangover and had been appalled at his own behaviour, but you also didn’t really care. Sara had taken to using the group message she’d sent the photos on for childcare planning - it made sense but it also meant that you didn’t have any other excuse for solely messaging Roy. When you finally unpacked the bags of junk from the beach day, you found his book rather than yours in the bag. You were picking the girls up that afternoon and taking Phoebe straight to her nans where Sara would pick her up. They came out of school with paint up their arms and in their hair from the craft activities laid on for them. You were looking forward to seeing Roy’s mum again and she welcomed you as she had before, with a huge hug. She was over the moon to finally meet Lexie who took to her immediately. When Sara arrived back from work a little while later, the girls helped her shake off her tiredness with a dance party (Taylor Swift of course) so the five of you - including Roy’s mum - were dancing around with music blasting, singing at the top of your lungs.
“Standing by and waiting at your back door, all this time, how could you not know, baby? You belong with me, you belong with me!” Until Phoebe screeched,
“Uncle Royyyy! I haven’t seen you for ages!”
“You saw me like two days ago you little weirdo.” He said surveying the chaos ahead of him. “Having fun?”
“It’s a dance party! Sara was sleepy so we needed to wake her up.” Lexie told him.
“Sara’s still sleepy but thanks for trying, guys.” She laughs.
“Come on Lexie-loo. Time for us to go.”
“But muuum!”
“No buts, we need to get you ready for dad’s tomorrow.” The two girls looked sombre that they’d be separated for a few days, but Sara grins at you over their heads,
“Freedom!” You get bags and shoes and say goodbye to Roy’s mum. You stop suddenly in the hall, not realising Roy was right behind you and making him bump into you. He puts a hand to your waist so he doesn’t push you over but it brings you flush to his chest. With his hand on your stomach, you know he had to feel the shuddering breath that leaves your body. You reach into your bag and turn to him, “nearly forgot, I ended up with your book.”
“Keep it, I’d finished it. Did you finish yours?”
“Yeah, keep it. I promised it to you.” He watches you with dark eyes. You know nothing is going to happen, of course it’s not - there’s a house full of people, Lexie is behind you by the front door putting her trainers on. He nods once and puts a single kiss to your forehead.
“See you soon.”
“Bye,” you look over his shoulder intending to shout goodbye to Sara and her mum but Sara’s in the doorway, eyebrows raised and wide eyed.
“Bye babe, I’ll text you later.” She says casually with a look which is far from casual.
You have the following day off for a couple of interviews so you’ve arranged to pick Lexie up from holiday club and take her round to Andy’s yourself. You don’t really want to have to see him, but the plans were made before his pleas to try again.
“Here’s your bag, bunny, your coat is inside. Be good, I’ll see you in a few days, ok?” You give her a big hug and kiss and she goes straight into the flat. Andy hovers by the door.
“You look good.”
“Thanks, I’ve had a couple of interviews.”
“Any good?”
“Not sure yet, we’ll see.”
“Ok well… good luck.” You nod, ready to escape but you can see he’s itching to say something else. “I just wanted to say sorry about the other night.”
“It’s ok, forgotten already.”
“Oh, cos I just wanted to check that you’re sure?” You shake your head with a little laugh,
“Yes, Andy. I’m sure. Please, don’t ask again. It’s not going to happen.”
“Right, right. Ok. Have a good week then.”
“Yeah, you too.” You leave his flat feeling lighter. You go back to your car leaving him behind, the clocks have changed so the evenings are light. Your drive takes you past the football club and down Roy’s street. His gate is open and the car is just inside. You turn in before you have a chance to chicken out. You ring the bell and wait. The double take as he answers the door means he didn’t see it was you on the doorbell camera,
“It’s you.” He states,
“Yeah, I was just passing. Is this a bad time, I can go?” You make to leave but he’s quick to stop you.
“No, no, of course it’s fine, come in. I was just cooking. Jesus, you look fucking gorgeous.” You leave your bag by the door and step out of your heels.
“Thank you. I’ve been interviewing today.”
“How did it go, what were the roles?”
“Still Deputy Comms Director. I’m not sure, it’s so hard to say. It’s been ages since I interviewed anywhere.”
“Did they give you any feedback?” Already your conversation with Roy is a complete contrast to Andy’s indifference. You have his undivided attention, he’s curious and interested.
“Not really. I think it’s just a waiting game. It’s so annoying, I only have about 5 weeks left. I’m worried that I was wrong to just resign with nothing to go to next.”
“Bold, not necessarily wrong.” He offers, pouring you a glass of wine.
“I think you’re being too kind there.” You laugh,
“Bollocks. If forced retirement has taught me anything, it’s that you have to accept what’s right for you. Sometimes that means it feels like you’re doing the wrong thing until it becomes the right thing.” You mull on his words while he cooks. The speaker is on quietly in the background while you drink your wine. It feels comfortable.
“Do you regret retiring?”
“Fuck no. My knee thanks me every day for it. I didn’t dare let myself think I’d actually enjoy coaching - I tried to make out like I’d hate it.”
“It felt like the wrong thing to do until it didn’t?”
“Exactly. You’ve got to trust yourself.” He puts a plate of pasta in front of you.
“Oh, thank you.”
“Don’t turn up at my house at dinner time and not expect to get fed.” He takes the seat next to you.
“Tell me about the club. I’ve heard the rumours that Coach Lasso is leaving?”
“Doesn’t know what he fucking wants. He’s in love with the boss.”
“Really?! Does she know?”
“Nah, they’re both being idiots about it. Neither of them will say anything so he thinks the answer is to leave.”
“And it’s not?”
“No, he should tell her. Shouldn’t he?”
“Course he should. What happens if he leaves?”
“Not a clue. Guess I’ll find out if he ever makes a decision.”
“Not long to decide though. Maybe you should give him your ‘being bold’ pep talk.” You continue your meal together and help clean up afterwards. You didn’t have a reason for visiting in the first place, so you certainly didn’t have one to stick around, but he poured another glass of wine anyway. He seemed to be holding back from you a little, engaging in conversation about work and families but he didn’t once acknowledge the evening you’d returned from Brighton. You cleared your throat, “I had to see Andy today when I dropped Lexie off.”
“Oh yeah?” His frown deepened and unlike with Andy, you saw it immediately - jealousy.
“Hmm. He, uhh, reckons we should try again.”
“Oh.” He picks at the label on his beer bottle. “Bet Lexie’s happy?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“How come?”
“Well I didn’t think it was a wise idea to tell my 8 year old that I told her dad to fuck off… so, there’s that.” He looked up sharply,
“You told him to fuck off?”
“Not in so many words. But I made it very clear that he should never ask me again.”
“Good. It’s probably not good for you - or Lexie - to keep dragging shit like that out and-”
“Roy?”
“Yeah?” You leaned up from your stool at the kitchen island and kissed him lightly. When you moved away, you watched him carefully,
“If I’ve got this wrong again, I-” He stepped up to your knees, your tight skirt preventing him from getting much closer, and pulled you to him, kissing you so softly. It was entirely different to the first time he’d kissed you and yet felt just as desperate and wanting. He pulls your blouse out from the waistband of your skirt and leans back just enough to ask the silent question, are you sure? You’re not drunk, there are no kids to interrupt, no phones ringing… you know you’re sure, but you have to know that he is too. He anticipates what you’re about to ask,
“Course I’m fucking sure. You’re not wrong. You weren’t wrong last time. You were drunk, I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.”
“And now?”
“I’d really like to take advantage of you, that ok?” He says with a chuckle.
“Yes, definitely yes.” You laugh, relieved. He kisses you again and though you know you have all the time in the world, you don’t want to waste a single second.
“Fucking gorgeous.” He whispers against your neck, “borderline obscene, actually.” You laugh at his stolen compliment. His deft fingers pull your top up and off and you’re thankful you wore one of your really, really good bras for good luck for your interviews. You both decide at the same time that the other is just not close enough, your damn skirt in the way. He takes your hand to help you down from the stool and circles your waist, “this looks amazing, but it’s in the way.” You guide his hand to the zip at the side while you step up onto your tiptoes to pull his training t-shirt off. The skirt pools at your feet and his hands cover you, trying to explore everything all at once. “Up.” He taps your hip,
“Are you sure?”
“Fuck off.” He laughs, lifting you anyway. He doesn’t take you far, only to the sofa where he drops down with you still in his lap. You sit up on your knees so you can take your weight off his bad knee but he grips your hips, puts you back down and sides you further into his lap. You can feel him hard against you and it’s never been like this before, you’ve never been with someone who has made their need for you so obvious, never made you feel so wanted before. This thought alone helps banish your insecurities to the very back of your mind. He kisses a hot, wet path down your neck to the tops of your breasts, your sunburn faded to golden, but the freckles remain. The sensation of his beard against your skin makes you moan and you can’t help but roll your hips into him. He grips you tighter, holding you against him. You reach down between your bodies to pull at the waistband of his shorts. He takes the hint and lifts you both slightly so he can get rid of them. With the shorts out of the way, he can feel the heat and dampness of you against him, “Fuck me-” he breathes, hands tracing up your back to the clasp of your bra.
“Yes, please, yes.” Your hands are in his hair and you pull him back to your mouth for another searing kiss. You have to let go while he takes the straps of your bra down your arms but you press back up against him as soon as you can, the hair on his chest rough against your skin. You grind your hips down again, desperate to feel him against you. His hand goes between you both and he stops to check in again before touching you. You cup his cheek and nod, a shy smile. His fingers find your centre and brush against you. You breathe his name and your eyes flutter shut. Two fingers slide inside you and you think that’s already enough to send you over the edge. You rock against his hand, your forehead against his.
“Open your eyes,” he rasps, “I want to see you.” The second you open your eyes, he presses his thumb to your clit and you cry out. He doesn’t let up, working you through your orgasm until you're choking back a sob. You catch your breath for a moment, but the need for him is overwhelming.
“Need you now, have you got-”
“I’m clean, constant fucking medicals. You?” You nod and he slips your underwear to one side. You lift up to line him up against you and slide down onto him slowly. The stretch is exquisite, too much and yet absolutely perfect all at the same time. You take him fully and pause for a second to revel in the feeling of having him inside you. He kisses you softly, “you feel incredible. God, you’re so beautiful.” He takes your hips while you set the pace but it doesn’t take long for either of you to reach the edge. You come again with his name on your lips and he’s right there with you, bruising your hips with his grip. You slump against his shoulder, nose against his neck.
“Holy shit,” you manage eventually, feeling him laugh against you.
“Yeah, you’re not fucking wrong.” He pulls a blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it over you as you slip off his lap to sit next to him. Neither of you says anything, his hands run up and down your calves as you sit with your legs in his lap. He reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, “will you stay?”
“If that’s ok?” He gets up and takes your hand, pulling you with him.
“Come on, shower and bed. I’ve got training with Jamie at 4am.”
You wake up briefly to a kiss on the back of your neck.
“Back in a bit, go back to sleep.” He whispers, kissing your earlobe. You sigh happily and snuggle down into the bed, pulling his pillow with you. You hadn’t gotten much sleep, waking every so often to soft caresses and kisses. Your body ached in a way you’d never felt before. You slip back into sleep again, waking a couple of hours later to a cup of tea and warm arms around you.
“How was training?” You ask, voice still full of sleep.
“Painful.” He laughed. You sit up to drink your tea, sitting in between his legs, his back against the headboard and yours against his chest. “Can I ask you something?” He murmurs, a hand drifting over your thigh, you let out a needy moan, it’s almost absurd how he can make you want him so badly. “Remember I had that suit fitting? There’s a gala for work next week. Will you come with me?” You turn to put your tea down and then kiss him.
“I’d love to. Thank you.” You smile.
“I’ve got an hour. What time do you have to go?”
“Same.”
“Good.” He smirks, pulling you back down to him.
#ted lasso fanfiction#ted lasso fic#roy kent#roy kent x reader#roy kent smut#roy kent imagine#roy kent fanfiction#roy kent fluff#roy kent fic
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Townie (S. H x Reader)
**Gif Not Mine**
Pairings: Steve HarringtonX Reader (Enemies to lovers)
Rating: M
Words: 5K
Warnings: SMUT!! Language, lewd conversation, Mean Reader, Mean Steve, Soft!Dom!Steve, Over-stimulation, Oral sex(Female receiving), fingering, sexual content. unprotected sex
Request: OPEN/CLOSED
Summary: The five times you should’ve hated Steve Harrington and the one time you didn’t.
A.N: Named after Townie by Mitski. This is a terrible 5+1 fic. This fic is so shitty, like its not good at all. but it’s over 5K words so I’m not going to not post it. If you like it, please comment and reblog it. it would mean the world to me. No taglist because it’s different than my other stuff. Also if you want to be tagged in my new Steve Harrington “The Bear” AU fic, inbox me. Much love Cia
It was no secret you and Steve did not get along.
You don’t know how it started, neither of you really talked in high school, having run in different circles. Him with the popular crowd and you with the band kids. You knew Steve as the King of Hawkins High, untouchable and frankly, an asshole. Now that your town has essentially turned into a horror movie that you both found yourself sucked into. You learned that Steve was actually pretty down to earth and kinda a dweeb but still an asshole.
Especially to you.
The first time was when Dustin somehow managed to talk you into taking him to the mall. You’d known Dustin since he was a kid, You were his regular babysitter and neighbor so you always found it extremely hard to say no to the kid. When you entered the mall, you fully expected to browse on your own, leaving Dustin to find his friends and meet later. It was only when you got there that you realized Dustin’s ulterior motive was for you to meet his new “friend” he made while you were away at college. You were happy Dustin was coming more out of his shell and meeting new people outside his party, you had been worried about the kid when you left. However, what you were not expecting when you entered the small ice cream shop, was to come face to face with the King of Hawkins, himself, dawned in the most ridiculous sailor suit.
“Dude!” Steve greeted excitedly, when he saw the gap-tooth smile of his friend.
“Dude!” Dustin greeted back. “This is Y/N, my neighbor, I was telling you about.”
“Oh, Y/N..” Steve trails off, pondering for a second. “You look really familiar.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes at the man. Of course, he didn’t remember you. “We went to high school together.” You say.
Steve hums for a second, thinking. “Oh, tuba girl!” Steve says, your face turns beet red as he remembers the single most humiliating moment of your high school career.
“Tuba girl?” Dustin asks, tilting his head in confusion.
“Oh my god, it was so funny! She went the wrong way during a pep rally, ran head first into a tuba.” Steve laughed. Part of you was gracious that Steve left out the part where your skirt also flew up, giving the entire gym a view of the pink underwear you decided to sport that day. But that part of you was already filled with rage. “You know, you kinda disappeared after that.”
“Well, I had all the credits I needed to graduate and early admission, so I didn’t see the point of sticking around while everyone called me Tuba Girl, thanks for that by the way.” You said, rolling your eyes.
Steve scoffs at you. “Oh my god, you really think you’re better than me.”
You look him up and down in his ridiculous work uniform. “What was your first clue?”
You could tell Steve was really starting to get irritated with you now. “What do you have that I don’t have?”
“Well, friends my own age for one.” You snap back. Everyone in the Scoops Ahoy winced, including a brunette girl with shorter hair you recognized as Robin, from band class. You looked guiltily at Dustin. “No offense, Dusty.” You added. The younger boy shrugged.
You watched Steve’s face get red with anger. “Well, maybe you didn’t get made fun of because you fell in a tuba. Maybe it was because you were a bitch who acted like you were better than everyone!” That made everyone wince again and you fight back tears entering your ducts.
You lifted your bag higher on your shoulder. “You know what, I don’t need this.” You turn to Dustin. “I’m going to be at the mall entrance in 4 hours and if you meet me there, I’ll treat you to a movie. Okay, kid?” Dustin nodded and you scruffed his hair but not before throwing another nasty look at the man in front of you.
The second time was after Dustin let you in on his secret life of fighting monsters and secret russian facilities.
You could’ve lived fine without the knowledge to be honest. You didn’t like the idea of Dustin constantly putting his life in danger. Much less, in the hands of that idiot, Steve Harrington, so you decided it was time for you to step in.
You were sneaking around Starcourt mall. You and Dustin were on one side of the hall, Robin and Steve were all the way down the other end of the hall. You waved your hands to the two of them, trying to signal them to go left.
“What?” You hear the crinkly buzz of the walkie talkie exclaim from Steve. You roll your eyes and signal again.
“We don’t understand you, I don’t understand why you insist on using dumb ass signals when we have walkies!”
You flip the bird at Steve down the hall before speaking into the walkie. “Do you understand this signal?! I’m sure you’ve seen this one a lot, dickhead!”
“Guys.” Dustin exasperates. “Can you save the bickering until we’re out of danger?” You nod apologetically before sneaking further down the hall.
The third time was shortly after the explosion of Starcourt. You had found Steve beaten badly, and a little loopy. Despite your own injuries, you’d driven everyone home as yours weren’t as bad. You save Steve for last, stepping out the car to help him into the cold, empty home. You knew about Steve’s parties from high school and how his place was the go-to because his parents were never home. You never realized how lonely that was until you entered the cold living room. You almost felt sad for him.
“Hey big guy.” You said, lugging his weight. “Where’s your bathroom?”
Steve points in a general direction, which you follow. Once you find it, you sit Steve down on the toilet before raiding his medicine cabin in search of something to clean his wounds with. When you find the rubbing alcohol and cotton pads, you turn back to the boy.
“Do you have bandages or something in here?”
“Under the sink.” Steve mumbles. You’re semi-gracious he’s back to speaking, even if you hated everything that came out of his mouth most of the time. Steve winces slightly when you press the cotton to his temple.
“Oh shut up, big baby.” You say. “You know, what you did was incredibly stupid. You could’ve gotten yourself and Robin killed!”
Steve groans. “Do we have to do this right now? I got the shit kicked out of me.”
You step in between his legs to get a closer look at the wounds. You feel his hand circle around your waist to steady himself, you guessed. You ignored the fluttering feeling that entered your stomach. You equated it to not getting laid in a while.
“Seriously, you’re lucky as shit that we found you when you did. You have no idea how close to death’s door you look.”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea, considering how I feel.”
“Why did you do it?” You exclaimed. “I told you to wait for me.”
“We didn’t have that kind of time, okay!” Steve snaps back. “I couldn’t let them find you.”
You blink at that. “I’m capable of handling myself, Harrington.”
“I know, I know. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you–you guys.” He adds. You feel the grip on your waist get tighter, you guess it was subconscious. “I figured it was better me than you… any of you, I mean.”
You decide to ignore the freudian slip and continue to work on his wounds.
The fourth time was after you moved back to Hawkins full time and took a job at the Family Video with Steve and Robin. Though it was much to the chagrin of your parents (they didn’t know Hawkins had turned into a literal Hellscape) you decided to move back and work part time while taking classes at the local university.
Your relationship with Steve now was… weird. Not good but not necessarily bad. Ever since that night you dressed his wounds in the bathroom, the two of you developed a sort of tolerance for each other. You still bickered often, but not enough for Robin to want to stab her eyes out, which was ideal for everyone.
You and Robin were discussing a magazine while Steve stocked shelves when Dustin came running into the Family Video.
“Dude, watch my tapes!” Steve yelped as the smaller boy almost went careening into a stack of tapes.
“Sorry!” Dustin said, getting upright.
“What’s up, Dusty?” You asked once you saw the commotion.
“I need advice.” He said. “Girl advice.”
“What happened?” You and Steve said at the same time. Looking at each other annoyed, thinking you were the one the boy was referring to.
Dustin looks nervously between the two of you. “Well, Suze mentioned it being our 7 month anniversary next week when I was talking to her on the phone. And I think she’s expecting a gift? But I have no idea what to get her.”
Steve laughs. “Oh that’s easy, nothing.”
“Wait a second, Dust.” You cut Steve off. “If she mentioned it, that means she remembered and is probably expecting something. It doesn’t have to be big but you should get something to show you at least care about it.”
“Dude, I’m telling you. If you get this girl a gift, you’re just giving her an excuse to walk all over you. Save it for the major ones.”
“Dustin, are you really going to listen to someone who’s been chronically single for the past two years?”
Dustin opens his mouth to say something, probably in defense of Steve, but was immediately cut off by Steve. “I don’t see anyone banging down your door, at least I can get a date.”
“That’s because I don’t want to date any of these guys in Hawkins.” You rebuttal. “Trust me, if I wanted to date any of these losers, I could.”
It’s at that moment, you notice who just entered one of Steve’s former teammates enter the store. Nick Nakumara, affectionately called Nick-Nak by his team, greets Steve with a clap on the back. Nick was fairly attractive and thankfully not one of the participants that made High School rough for you. You raise an eyebrow at Steve, letting him know the challenge he’s just placed before you. Steve shakes his head, but you ignore it as Nick approaches the counter.
“Top Gun…” You say. “Good choice.”
Nick beams for a second. “Yea, I saw it in theaters. So good!”
You smile back and quickly write your number on the back of his receipt. “Well, If you want someone to watch it with. Call me.” You smile.
Nick falters for a second, looking confused between you and Steve. “Aren’t you and Harrington��” He says, pointing in between the two of you. The two of you seem to realize what he’s saying at the same time. You throw a nasty look to Robin and Dustin who are now giggling in the corner.
“What, No!” You say at the same time as Steve’s “Gross, no.” Which you try very hard not to get offended by.
“It’s just you guys are always hanging out…”
Which was true, between the two of you being the main transport for the kids there were a lot of times where you and Steve were together alone while waiting for the kids to finish whatever they were doing. Which resulted in the two of you often having dinner at the local diner or catching a movie. You could understand the confusion, but it didn't mean you had to like it.
“So you gonna call me or…” You say, deciding that the change of subject was needed.
Nick smiles at you again. “I’ll call you.”
You smile as the man walks out with his tape and your number in tow. You turn back to Steve with a smug look.
“Don’t go out with Nick.” He says.
“Why not?”
“Because I know the type of guy he is!” Steve snaps. “He’s just going to try and fu–” Steve cuts himself off, remembering Dustin is still in the store. “He’s just after one thing.”
“You know, I know what fuck means, right?” Dustin adds.
“Don’t you have a gift to be looking for?” Steve says to the boy.
“But you said–”
“Just go get your girlfriend a gift, Alright kid?” Steve says, effectively dismissing Dustin, who shrugs and leaves the store to do just that. “Seriously, just don’t go out with him.”
“You don’t know if that’s all he wants.” You say.
“Are you kidding? I do know that. You don’t know what he was like in high school. And then you just invite yourself over to his place to watch a movie? You might as well have tattooed ‘please fuck me’ on your forehead.”
“You know, I don’t see how this is any of your business, Steve.” You snap back.
“You’re right it’s not.” Steve says, almost venomously. “But don’t come crying to me if you don’t want to hear ‘I told you so’.” He says before marching into the break room.
The fifth time… you actually don’t remember how the fifth time started. But you knew it ended with you marching into Steve’s house after he tried to slam the door on you.
“You’re such a goddamn asshole all the time!” You yell as you enter the house. Steve rolls his eyes.
“And you never know how to fucking listen!”
“Why would I listen to you?!”
“I don’t know, maybe because I’m always right!” You scoff at that which makes Steve’s blood boil more. “No I am, I was right back at Starcourt. I was right about Nick–”
You wince slightly. “You said, we wouldn’t talk about that.”
You hated to think about that night you decided to go out with Nick Nakumara. Steve had been absolutely right about Nick. He picked you up and brought you back to his place. He was sweet, he brought you snacks you had mentioned in your earlier conversations on the phone but not even 10 minutes into the movie he was trying to put his hand up your skirt. You had been vocal and said that wasn’t what you wanted and he all but kicked you out of his house on the other side of town. You’d walked to the nearest gas station and used the payphone to call the only person you knew with a car, Steve.
He pulled up next to the stoop you had been sitting on for the past 30 minutes, leaning out the window.
“What happened?” He asked you, concern on his face.
“Shut up.” You say, getting into the car and crossing your legs. He looks over at you, with a still concerned look on his face. “You were right, is that what you want?”
Steve says nothing, just places a heavy hand on your leg. You try to ignore the shocks that go straight to your heart. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He says, lowly. Steve has never called you anything endearing so when you hear that it puts butterflies in your stomach. “You didn’t deserve that.”
Though you’ve never said it to anyone, you watched Steve that whole drive, seeing him in an entire new light. He annoyed you to no end, sure. But Steve was… sweet. He cared about you, even when you were nothing but rude to him most of the time.
You wanted him.
Badly.
“Doesn’t make me less right.” Steve says, immediately pulling you back into the conversation at hand. Right, arguing with Steve, you thought, Not thinking about the freckles that dotted his nose or how his arms filled out the polo he was wearing. “You have to be right, all the fucking time that you make idiotic decisions that get me beat up or picking you up in the middle of the night. You have to admit that there’s some things I’m just smarter than you about.”
You couldn’t think of a good rebuttal so you went with a classic. “Fuck you, Harrington.”
“Yea, you’d want that. Don’t you, sweetheart?” He fires back just as fast, voice dipping almost dangerously low.
It stops you in your tracks. Steve had only ever called you Sweetheart one other time and that was the car ride away from Nick’s. You thought about how heavy his hand felt on your thigh. How it stayed there the rest of the car ride, dangerously close to your center. How you thought about that night often in the comfort of your dark bedroom, alone at night. Subconsciously, your legs squeeze together. Steve notices this, he always does.
“Oh… Oh!” Steve says, knowingly. A smug look crosses his face. “That’s exactly what you want.”
You sputter for a second. “Shut up!” You exclaim. “I never said that.”
“You kinda didn’t have to, sweetheart, you’re kinda telling on yourself right now.” Steve says, smugly. “Is it me calling you sweetheart? That do it for you?”
Your face wildly flushes. You feel incredibly embarrassed and not to mention, turned on. You sputter for a second before regaining your confidence. “You fucking wish, Harrington.”
“Yea, maybe I do.” He says, stepping incredibly close into your space. You back instinctively but find yourself back into a wall. Steve takes this opportunity to crowd into your space. “What do you want, honey, huh?” He says, almost condescendingly. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches.
“Steve–”
“If you don’t want this, just say that. I’ll let you go and we can forget this ever happened. But what do you want, sweetheart?” Steve almost looks pained. The cockiness in his voice fading into something genuine. As though he, himself, was scared of your answer
“You.” You whisper so quietly that even you have trouble hearing it but it was all Steve needed to pull you into an almost bruising kiss. You gasp at the suddenness of the action before relaxing slightly. You fight for dominance for a while, you not wanting to give him the upper hand on you. That is until you find yourself pressed rather roughly into the wall. The hand that had been cupping your cheek was now wrapping softly around your throat, as if he was testing exactly what you would be comfortable with. He smirked slightly against your lips when he heard the soft moan escape your mouth. Steve began sloppily mouthing around your jaw and neck that produced probably the most embarrassing sounds from you. Steve pressed himself closer to your body and you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his erection pressing against your center.
Suddenly, Steve is pulling away from you. You’re ashamed to admit it but you chase after him a bit, but you’re held back by the hand that was once softly around your neck, now gripping it fully, not enough to hurt but enough to make you very aware that you had lost complete control of the situation.
“Come on.” He says, deeply into the space between you. You let him take you into the downstairs guest room. You assumed that, like yourself, he was too eager to make the long stretch upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, Steve was on you again, kissing you just as intensely as before, this time tugging aggressively at your clothes. You decide to help him by pulling your shirt off. Steve sucks bruises into the newly exposed skin, you whine which makes him groan deep in his throat.
“Take these off.” He says, deep as he pulls apart the button of your jeans. The tone does things to you. Steve was a natural leader, you knew that, but you hadn’t been expecting that authority to follow you in his bed. “I need to taste you.”
Your head is spinning enough that you don’t even realize what’s happening until your back hits the bed. Steve is tugging roughly at the waist of your jeans pulling them down. You lift your legs a bit in assistance. Once your pants are down, Steve is groaning as he parts your legs and leaves biting kisses on the inside of your thighs. You hiss slightly as Steve hand snakes its way up to to rub against your clothed sex.”
“Fuck.” He groans. “How are you already this wet? I’ve barely touched you.” He says, before pulling your underwear to the side and slipping two fingers inside you. You moan loudly, which only spurs Steve on. “All of this? Just for me, sweetheart?”
“O-only you.” You stutter back, losing yourself in the feeling of Steve's rough thumb pad rubbing diligent circles on your clit. Steve leaves hot kisses down your flesh, biting your most sensitive places, your neck, stomach, the dips in your hips. He then tugs your underwear down but remaining eye level with your sex. He looks up at you as if silently asking for permission. You nod, flustered. Steve grips your hips tightly with one hand, the other grabbing the outside of your thigh almost bruisingly. He pulls you sharply towards his waiting mouth.
You moan embarrassingly loud as you feel the sharp quick lick to your clit. Your head thrashes back against the pillows. You started squirming away from the assault, your head swimming from the intensity of it. Steve just holds you in an iron grip, moaning slightly against your sex, which causes you to moan again. You brave a look down at him and realize you shouldn’t have. The man was beautiful. His hair had fallen sweatily in front of his face, his caramel eyes blown almost completely black. You see his hips moving slightly against the mattress as if searching for any type of friction. The idea of him enjoying this just as much as you pulled you dangerously close to the brink.
“S-Steve.” You moaned, the man looked up at you as his finger pushed into your center. You feel tears entering the corners of your duct as he brushes the spongy spot inside you. You were teetering closer and closer to the edge. “I’m– I’m gonna–” You tried to get the word out but the feeling was too intense.
Thankfully, Steve didn’t need many words. “Go ahead and cum for me, honey. Come on.” He says, low as his fingers continue their assault. That was all you needed to let yourself fall over the edge, Steve licking into you greedily. He crawls back up your body leaving kisses up your torso before landing inevitably at your mouth. You moan at the taste of yourself on him. You tug at his shirt to take it off which he helps you with before bringing him back down to kiss you. He presses more into your center before looking up at you.
“How are you feeling?” He asks. You melt a little at the tenderness in his voice.
“I’m fine.” You whisper back. “Why?”
“It’s just, I’ve never seen you this silent.” He laughs. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut you up. I would’ve done it years ago.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up and take your pants off, Harrington.”
“There she is.” Steve smiles, reaching for the button of his pants. You watch as he pulls his pants and underwear down in one go. The sight widens your eyes a bit. Steve notices this. “What’s wrong?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“N-Nothing.” You stutter. “It’s just–I mean, I heard the rumors at school but I thought you know, you had spread them yourself.”
Steve laughs at that before cupping your cheek. “We can stop if you want, honey.”
“No, I want to. Please, fuck me.” You whisper.
Steve groans. “God, you’re killing me here, sweetheart.” Steve reaches down to grab the base of his, in your opinion, surprisingly well-endowed member. He looks to you one more time for permission, which you silently grant him, before sliding into you slowly.
The two of you groan as he bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face, for any signs of discomfort, which you have, he was bigger than you had been expecting.
“You okay, honey?” He asks, trying to be as still as possible. It was hard, you were unbelievably tight around him.
Steve was going to kill you with all these pet names. You had never known he could be this sweet. It was then you had a very scary thought. That you wanted this, for as long as you could have it. Forever.
“Please… just move.” You whisper. Steve grips your hips tightly, one hand braced above you on the headboard above you before delivering slow, deliberate strokes into you. He was so deep inside you, brushing into your cervix. You moan loudly before moving your forearm to your mouth to stop yourself from embarrassing yourself further. Steve instantly grips the offending hand, pinning it to the mattress below you before fucking into you harder.
“Don’t ever do that.” He says, gripping your hand tighter. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”
“Steve–” You keen, loudly. Steve is now pistoning inside you, moving your legs higher up his torso so now he’s impossibly deep inside you, hitting that spot on almost every other thrust. You felt yourself nearing the edge again.
“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” Steve moans. “So perfect. God, this pussy was made for me, huh?”
“I’m-I’m gonna cum” You breathe in between moans.
“Should’ve known you’d be this greedy.” He smiles. “Go ahead, cum on my dick, let me feel you.” Your eyes shut, as you hit your peak. Steve slows a bit as he fucks you through your orgasm.
Steve kisses under your jaw, still fucking into you. “Think you can give me one more?”
“Huh?” You say, dazed.
Steve looks up at you. “Do you want me to stop or can I get you off again?”
“I don’t–I don’t even think I can again, Steve.” You say. And you believed it, your body felt floaty and spent. You hadn’t been expecting this, to feel like this. You honestly, just hoped it’d be mediocre so you could get it out of your system and have it be over with. Now that you knew, Steve could make you feel like this, you didn’t know if you could ever go back.
Steve made shallow thrusts inside you, pulling that train of thought. “I know, I can get you there again.” He says, smugly against your ear. “Let me make you feel good, please.”
You nod weakly as he folds your legs higher up your torso, fucking harder into you. You gasp at the feeling, eyes rolling back slightly as he fucks deeper into you, finding the spot in you again, almost instantly.
“God, sweetheart, you feel so good around me.” Steve says, in between your moans. He feels you tighten impossibly around him as he drifts a thumb down to draw circles around your clit. You’re seeing stars behind your eyes at this point. “Fuck, are you close?” You nod, stuttering his name like a mantra as you near your edge for the 3rd time that afternoon. “Come on, baby. I need you to feel you cum on my dick again. Please, honey.”
That was all you needed to break the dam inside you as you felt yourself shatter around Steve. Through your haze, you heard him moan, his thrust getting more erratic as you felt him emptying inside you.
The two of you stayed like that for a minute. Him, laying his full weight on you before pulling out and laying in the space next to you. The two of you don’t say anything, neither of you really know what to say. What do you say in that situation? Hey, I know we’ve been assholes to each other since we met but thanks for the best bang of my natural-born life. You look over to Steve who’s already looking back at you.
“How do you feel?” He asks, shyly. Suddenly this was not the man who just took you to bed but Steve again, caring but unsure of himself.
“Sore.” You answer.
Steve chuckles a bit. “I did kind of take it too far. I can run you a bath if you want.”
You shake your head. “I just want to lay here, if that’s okay.” Steve nods.
“Y-Yea, okay.” Steve says, starting to move. “Let me just get my clothes and I’ll be out of your way.”
“Steve.” You call. Steve looks at you inquisitive. “Stay… please.” You don’t realize how much of a plea it was until it left your mouth.
“You hate me…” Steve says, slowly.
You look at him confused. “Steve, I don’t hate you.”
“But you–”
You sit up to look at the man fully. “Steve I– I’ve never been good at this kind of thing. When shit gets complicated, I run. You know that. But I don’t hate you , I’ve never hated you. Do I give you shit sometimes? Yea. But that’s only because I didn’t want to think about the alternative that…” You drift off for a second.
“What?” Steve asks, now looking you deeply in your eyes.
“That I mess with you because that’s what gets you to pay attention to me.” You say, as the boulder weight goes crashing off your shoulders. “That I like who I am around you. That I really really like you.” You look away from Steve when you realize that he’s not saying anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
“I’ve liked you since you walked into Scoops Ahoy.” He says, almost too quiet that you almost miss it. “And you’ve never had to do anything to get my attention, you’ve always had it. In fact, you can always have it, for as long as you want.”
“How’s forever sound?” You joke.
Steve presses a kiss to your lips. It’s different from the hungry desperate kisses from before. This one was sweet and held something in them. A promise.
“Sounds perfect to me.”
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The Ghost of Family Video
The first chapter of one of my fanfics on ao3 just to give a little sneak peak.
Summary in the shortest amount of words: Steve died after the events of Starcourt, and Eddie is a psychic who can see ghosts. I think you can guess what the fic is about ;)
Chapter 1: Steve Harrington is Dead
Robin Buckley started working at Scoops Ahoy for the same reason every other teen gets a job; she wanted money. Her parents were never the type to ask her to help with the bills, nor did they ever ask her to get a job, but she enjoyed having money stored up for college and emergencies. It was cushioning for both her and her parents if they ever needed it, and, with her brother at college, they needed all the help they could get. She had a job before–started working the ticket stand at Hawkins old theater when she was 15. She was 17, however, when she started working at Scoops Ahoy—working with Steve Harrington.
Robin never had a job that didn’t include a coworker, but Steve was an entirely different concept. He didn’t feel like a coworker, even if they did work together. He felt like an entity more elusive than Bigfoot. She hated Steve, but she didn’t hate him in a normal sense. She hated him because he made her heart grow heavy with comfort, despite the fact that he was a homophobic, dick-bag of a jock. At least, that’s what Robin assumed when they started working together. Steve proved her assumptions wrong within the first week of working together. He brought back coffee whenever he went on his break. He offered his extra breaks to Robin if she looked tired. He insisted on taking in all the heavy stock, and he never let Robin pay for her own dinner or lunch if she forgot to pack one. Even then, she hated him.
She hated him like the ocean hates the beach. They were stuck in a constant battle of one metaphorically crashing into the other, but, in a strange way, it worked. Each crash of a wave chipped at the other person’s sandy shore, letting out pieces of shells and hidden creatures in the tide pools. Each wave was a new discovery about who the other person really was. They were the ocean against the beach. Waves in the sand. Forever connected. Steve and Robin.
That feeling within their “friendship” was even before all hell broke loose and before Robin knew Russian spies hid beneath the mall and monsters worse than the ones under her bed were real. Even with their mutual teasing and stormy beaches, no one could deny that Steve and Robin were connected. No one could deny that they were, at least, friends. Robin tried to deny it. If anyone asked, she’d tell them that Steve was just another schmuck she was stuck slinging ice cream with. A rich kid who was forced into a job by his snooty parents. He was nothing to her, but she was only lying when she said that. Steve wasn’t nothing. He wasn’t nothing at all.
Steve was a walking puzzle missing half the pieces and the guiding picture, yet Robin tried her hardest to figure him out. It was impossible. He was a mystery confusing enough to stump Sherlock. He flinched at flickering lights and dissociated in the cold freezer where they stored ice cream. He kept a baseball bat in the trunk of his car that Robin had only ever seen the handle of, which had a small brown stain on it—one that looked suspiciously like blood. In an expected fashion, he teased Robin about still being in high school, calling her “Freshman” with every other sentence despite the fact that she was on her way to her senior year. Strangest of all, he refused to let Robin ride her bike home after the closing shift; she rode with him nearly every day with her bike in the backseat of his car. Eventually, he started picking her up to be taken to work too. It wasn’t even a conversation between them; he just showed up while Robin was dragging her bike down her driveway. She didn’t try to argue, seeing the dark bags under his eyes and the silent begging within them—a look built more of fear than desperation. She couldn’t have said no even if she tried. Besides, who was she to turn down a free ride?
Steve also had a pack of kids who followed him like ducklings to their imprinted mother. “I babysit them.” He always used it as an excuse, but that never made sense to Robin. To start off, she knew for a fact that Scoops was Steve’s first job. He never mentioned being a babysitter until they started showing up. She also knew that most of the kids have older siblings. Growing up with an older brother, Robin knew that older siblings are usually stuck with the babysitting job. Max Mayfield, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler–they all had older siblings. Why would their parents waste the money in hiring Steve? Moreso, why, out of all the high school students in Hawkins, would they choose Steve to babysit? He was a jock known for getting drunk at parties and flirting with everything with boobs. He didn’t exactly scream babysitting material.
Outside of his role as “Mama Duck”, Steve was also friends with Jonathan Byers, even though the man was known around school for stealing ‘King Steve’s’ girlfriend. In fact, Steve’s face lit up like a Christmas tree the few times Jon came into shop, even when the boy was there without his younger brother or any of the other children.
Despite her initial shock, Robin could handle these discoveries and odd traits. She could handle Steve being friends with a few kids and with Jonathan Byers, but there was a fact about Steve Harrington that stood out above the rest. The most surprising thing about Steve was that he wasn’t, at all, what Robin thought he’d be. He wasn’t a douchebag. He wasn’t a ‘womanizer’, like her friend, Kate, would always call him. Sure, Steve flirted with everything and anyone that breathed, but he was always respectful. He made eye contact and complemented their hair or their smile. He was even nicer with the customers without boobs, complimenting them even if he wasn’t trying to get laid. Steve Harrington wasn’t Steve Harrington. He was just… Steve. Her coworker. Her friend. Her puzzle that she spent the first half of that summer trying to figure out.
It wasn’t until she saw a monster bigger than her house that she discovered all the missing pieces of Steve. Why he flinched at flickering lights and why the cold always bothered him. She figured why he prefers cats and smaller dogs to bigger ones. She figured out he was smarter than he let on, having intelligence in things besides books and school. She figured out he was selfless. He threw himself headfirst into danger to try and save a couple of kids, one of whom she was pretty sure he hated because Erica Sinclair was an asshole of a child, but he saved them. He tried to save Robin too, but Scoop's captains stick together, right? She wasn’t gonna leave him alone, and that idea scared her more than anything. Just one traumatic experience together and she was already codependent of a man whose head was more hairspray than brains.
She doesn’t know how long they were in the bunker for. All she knew was that Steve was nice to talk to. He listened, and he asked questions. She would try and urge him to talk, and he would, but she could tell he was holding back. Sure, she had all the pieces to the puzzle of Steve, but she still needed the bigger picture.
“You think they’d buy it if I pretended I could only speak French?” Robin asked when they were left alone. The guard's voices were muffled just outside the door, so she talked to drown out the few Russian words she understood– “The boy… blue… spies… bleed.”
“What?” Steve asked a few seconds after her statement.
Robin shrugged, her shoulders brushing against Steve’s, “I don’t know; it could work. I am fluent in French!” she sighed dejectedly, “I’m sorry. I’m just talking to not freak myself out. I’ll shut up.” she cleared her throat and looked to the ground, deciding that it probably wasn’t the best time to make jokes.
“Talk.” Steve suddenly urged. She looked at him. This was before they were tied back-to-back, so she could still look at him. “You don’t have to talk about them. Talk about anything… you’re gonna be a senior, right?” Robin nodded. “You want to go to college?”
Robin tilted her head. This wasn’t the first time they had talked about college, but it was the first time the focus was on Robin. In past conversations, talks about school was usually Steve making fun of Robin being in high school and Robin making fun about Steve for not going to college. “I want to go to Chicago.” Robin answered.
“The university?” Robin nodded.
“I always wanted to live in a big city; Chicago is at the top of my list.” In all honesty, ever since Robin was young, she dreamed about living in a city, but she dreamed about going west to California–Hollywood. She wanted to be a director or a writer, but Chicago seemed like an easier option. A steppingstone to get to her dream. “Honestly, I don’t want to go to college, but I think a degree would be nice to fall back on.”
“What do you want to do?”
Robin smiled, “I want to write.”
“Books? Articles?”
“Movies.” she corrected. Steve went on to ask about what kind of movies, and she talked about a few ideas she had for a romantic period piece (leaving out the sapphic details) until the door burst open. Robin had almost forgotten she was in a nightmare. She was grateful for his distraction.
When they got separated, it was like time stood still. It could’ve been hours–days–weeks–minutes–seconds, and all Robin experienced was an empty mind and a racing heart. There were no clocks and no windows. Just her tied to a chair, and Steve… Steve being tortured. Robin heard Steve’s screams from all the way down the hall. She tried humming Blondie or Queen to drown them out but each one was louder than the last. Robin liked horror movies, sure. She watched thrillers with friends and would challenge herself to not chicken out, but the actors in those films never even came close to the screams Steve was making. They were blood curdling and garbling, as he begged for his life. For a break from the pain. Robin wished she could rip her ears off. Worst of all, she felt useless! Robin heard punches and Russian voices shouting at her friend, and all she could do was listen and hope that he was still breathing. Her parents never really forced any specific religion growing up. She wasn’t sure how prayers were supposed to work, but she tried her best: Please, God, let Steve be alive. I know I don’t believe in you. You probably hate me right now, but please let this scream not be his last. Please bring him back.
Steve came back bruised and bloodied and unconscious, and Robin tried to feel for a pulse, screaming at the guards for answers. What happened? Fuck… She couldn’t find his heartbeat. Robin always sucked in anatomy class—got too grossed out by the dissections, but she knew it was somewhere on his neck… maybe the wrist? She just had to loosen her binds enough to feel for his heartbeat. She tried to reassure herself that she just had to keep looking, but she couldn’t find it! She couldn’t find his pulse and the guards were watching them, and she knew that she would be next in their sadistic crusade. They tied them back-to-back all while Robin was still panicking. When Steve took a gasp of air, she nearly added her own punch into the mix for scaring her, but the Russian guards were already moving on to the next form of torture. But, hey, Steve was alive. She wasn’t alone.
Later, they sat beside a once-empty toilet. The stench and taste of vomit lingered in Robin’s nose and throat. The Starcourt bathroom tiles were sticky and covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust. The custodians must’ve not cleaned yet, as the theater was still open and, thus, the mall was open. Her heart stopped when she heard silence coming from Steve’s stall, but he was only thinking and resting. They’d been awake for nearly 48 hours now, and Robin was just waiting for the right moment to pass out.
Coming out to Steve was almost as terrifying as the entirety of the Russian base. He had just told her he found someone for himself (implied it was her), and she told him she liked girls. It was the truth, but you can’t just tell people that! Sure, Steve was miraculously not a douchebag, but straight guys don’t always take rejection well, and people, in general, don’t always take queer people well. But she was high and scared, and she wanted someone to know before she died. Robin should’ve learned by that point to not underestimate Steve Harrington. She should’ve figured out that Steve was as far from a bad person as someone could be. Steve Harrington wasn’t a bad person at all, though his Kermit impression was kind of shit.
“I’m like you.” He told her when they had another chance alone. It was when they were driving back to the mall to help their friends, leaving Dustin and Erica on the hill.
“What?” she asked.
“When I said I found someone better for me—better than Nancy; I was talking about…” he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I was talking about a guy. His name’s Eddie.”
Robin smiled, “Oh…”
Steve’s face regained its color, and he laughed. “Yeah,” he snorted, “oh…”
Yeah, Steve wasn’t a bad person in the slightest…
He held her hand when they were hiding from the guards. He reached his arm out to hold her when he crashed into Billy Hargrove, so she wouldn’t hit the dashboard. He gave her his last firework to throw at the Flayer. He gave her a stick of gum he found hiding in his pocket when she complained about still tasting vomit. He gave her his shock blanket when she was still shaking beneath hers. He denied medical treatment and insisted they check on Robin and Dustin first. He snuck a few Band-Aids and an ice pack from the ambulance to take care of himself; Robin saw him do it, but she just assumed he had already been checked and was just grabbing extra supplies. Afterall, he told everyone that he was already checked on, “Go help someone else; I’m fine.” he insisted anytime a paramedic asked him. Ever the selfless hero… Steve.
After they were all debriefed and lightly threatened by the US government to keep their mouths shut and sign NDAs, Steve asked Jonathan if he’d be willing to drive them. “My head just hurts.” and Jonathan said sure. On the drive home, Steve was fighting off sleep in the backseat, leaning his head against Robin’s. No one could even fathom resting. Their bodies were still in fight or flight mode, ready to fight a monster that was already dead or guards that were buried beneath tons of dirt, ash, and debris. No one really questioned Steve’s exhaustion, though. They didn’t know the full story, but they knew Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Erica were trapped in that bunker for nearly days. No food. No water. No rest. Dustin and Erica passed out, afterall. Steve wasn’t the odd one out. If anything, Robin was, but she didn’t want to sleep. She just let Steve use her as a pillow.
Perhaps, she should’ve known something was wrong by him fighting off sleep so much. Robin’s not an idiot; she knows the signs of head trauma, but she was so tired. Perhaps, if she had been stronger and fought harder against the guards, she wouldn’t have gotten drugged. She would have had the mental clarity to notice one of Steve’s pupils was bigger than the other. She would’ve noticed him squinting and flinching at every light, flickering or not, and limping. Would’ve noticed he had to lean against the wall at every other step. Granted, she didn’t know if any of those things happened, but there must have been something she could’ve noticed! Something Robin could’ve seen, so she would know Steve needed help, but the man’s stubbornness was bigger than his hair, so, of course, she didn’t know.
Steve died not long after they left the mall. They had all gone to his house afterwards. No one wanted to be alone, and he had the most available space for everyone in the party. He also had a stockpile of extra clothes, blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags. Apparently, Steve really was a babysitter, or, at the very least, the kids’ honorary mother. After helping everyone find some supplies to go to sleep and some PJ’s, he went to bed early, saying he had a headache and was just going to take some Tylenol. Robin tried to go with him, but he insisted she stay and hang out with everyone. They were watching The Fox and the Hound because it was the only animated ("comforting") movie Steve had. “I know it’s for kids, but it’s one of my favorites.” He explained with a shrug, leaning against the railing for support.
“Are you sure you’re, okay?” Robin asked. “Did the paramedics give you all clear?”
Steve only laughed, “Yeah, Rob. I’ll be fine. Go watch the movie. I’ll see you in the morning.” He insisted, waving a dismissive hand.
Steve’s voice broke when he said that sentence and, after watching him hopelessly lie to impress girls, Robin knew Steve’s voice broke when he lied. Yet, she didn’t say anything. She just assumed it was because he was tired. Surely, Steve wouldn’t turn down medical help. Surely, he wasn’t that careless about himself. Robin wished she knew this would be their last conversation, so she could think of something better to say.
“Okay. Love you, dingus.” She would’ve said, if she knew he wouldn’t actually see her in the morning.
Steve would’ve rolled his eyes. “Love you too, freshman.” She would punch his arm, making him wince and call her an ass. That’s how she likes to imagine their last conversation, but that’s not at all what they said. He still dismissed her and lied about his own health, but she didn’t tell him she loved him like she wishes she did. No, instead she said, “I’m surprised they could hurt your head so much beneath all that hairspray.” She stuck her tongue out between her teeth teasingly, “It’s like your own helmet, Harrington.”
“Ha, ha.” Steve blanched while rolling his eyes. “You’re just jealous that I came prepared with protection.” he ran a hand through his hair for emphasis, making the sweat coated streaks fall around his forehead. Robin laughed and sent him off to bed with a promise that they’d spend all of tomorrow together, just to talk and heal.
Nobody knows the exact time of death, as everyone was asleep, but the doctors believe it was shortly after their conversation—a bit past midnight. As it turns out, Steve went to sleep with one of those head injuries you’re not supposed to sleep with. Something got hit too hard beneath all that hair, and Steve simply stopped breathing. “It can happen in patients who have suffered from concussions or untreated head traumas. It’s common in those who have experienced a hemorrhage or aneurysm of some kind.” Nancy had explained, but, truly, there were a number of other variables that could’ve caused that. A bad reaction to that Russian drug, his concussion, a hole in his lung, internal bleeding, or even a really bad fever. In any case, Robin should’ve never let him go to bed alone.
Another thing she wishes she could change is something she’ll forever be guilty for. Robin wishes more than anything that it was her who found the body. She wishes she wasn’t dealing with a hangover from that weird drug Steve and her were given and that coffee wasn’t the most important thing in the world. Coffee wasn’t the most important thing, but, at that moment, Robin would’ve traded her soul for a mug. Ms. Byers had made breakfast for everyone, and Steve was thought to be sleeping in, even though he was the first one to go to sleep. “I’ll get him.” Dustin volunteered, rolling his eyes and groaning like it was a chore.
The boy walked up the stairs and went to Steve’s bedroom. The door was open a bit, so Dustin didn’t feel the need to knock before he walked in. The first thing he noticed was that Steve’s bed sheets were messy, like he had moved around a lot in his sleep. The next thing he noticed was a Tylenol bottle on the floor; the cap was off, and the contents were spilled across the carpet. Dustin figured Steve had a nightmare and knocked the bottle and his sheets over, knowing nightmares were common for everyone in the party. Hell, there were quite a few nightmares during that night. Dustin had one. It was about Steve not making it back from the bunker. It was about Steve dead on a concrete floor.
At least, a bed is more comfortable than concrete.
“Hey, Steve, wake up.” Dustin nudged Steve’s foot, which was covered by his blanket. He was still wearing his Scoops uniform, being too tired to take it off, Robin supposed, or he passed out. “Steve, come on.” Dustin spoke louder and nudged him harder.
Dustin moved forward and clapped his hands above Steve’s body. “Steve!” He nearly shouted. He reached forward to grab Steve’s arm with a roll of his eyes, and gasped when he felt how cold it was. His heart jumped to his throat and choked him like a noose. “S-Steve…?” his voice was shaking. Steve’s house always had great air conditioning. He was just cold from the AC; that was what Dustin told himself. It was cold in the house, and all of Steve's blankets fell off of him in the night, so he was cold. “Steve, this isn’t funny!” Dustin grabbed Steve’s arm and shook it. Steve felt stiff, like he was a mannequin and not a person. “Steve!” Dustin screamed this time. His voice echoed out into the hallway and downstairs, alerting the others. “Steve! Please, you gotta wake up!” He grabbed both shoulders, shaking him vigorously. “Steve!”
Robin was the first person up the stairs despite her headache and poor coordination. The blinds were closed, and the room was gray, so she flicked on the overheads to find a man just as gray as before the lights were turned on. He was pale and his eyes were shut. His lips looked blue, and his veins were prominent beneath ghostly skin. “Steve…?” Robin didn’t scream like Dustin, but her voice cracked. She didn’t run to his side or shake him. She merely stepped out of the way as Joyce and Jonathan ran into the room. “Steve…” she couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Dreaming or having a nightmare. Awake or asleep. Dead or alive. In that moment, there was no difference.
“Steve—get off of me!” Dustin elbowed at Jonathan, as the boy tried to pry Dustin away from his friend. “Steve! Wake up!” Robin felt tears streaming down her face, but she was confused why they were flowing. She wasn’t there. Her mind was still at Scoops. She was still watching Steve being a dingus and badly flirting with girls. She was in the backroom with him listening to a Russian code. She was tied to his back, and they were laying on the ground talking about where they would be if they became friends earlier. Steve would be in college, and Robin wouldn’t be in a Russian bunker. She was in the mall bathroom talking with him about Tammy Thompson’s bad singing voice. They were in the “Todd-father” discussing the possibilities of going to gay bars in Indianapolis. They were standing on the stairs wishing each other goodnight. They weren’t… he wasn’t… This couldn’t be happening! Steve… Steve was just here.
Dustin screamed and kicked when Murray entered the scene and picked the boy up from beneath his arms. “Let go of me! — Steve!” Dustin screamed. It was the kind of scream that vibrated the walls and shook Robin to her core. A kind of scream she’s only ever heard come out of movies. The boy was pushing at Murray’s arms, trying his best to escape and return to his friend’s side. Tears were streaming down Dustin’s face, and Robin glanced into the hallway at the sound of a thud. Max had reached the top of the stairs, having had to fight her way through a now sobbing Lucas. She was sitting on her knees with her hands covering her mouth. Robin could tell she was screaming, based on her stretched jaw and narrowed eyes, but she couldn’t hear it. Everything was suddenly muffled. Her headache from that hangover switched into a stabbing pain, and the ringing in her ears drowned everything out. “Steve!” Dustin shouted—barely heard. Murray set the boy down besides Max and blocked them both from the room. Max threw herself into Lucas’s arms. Robin looked on as Jonathan started doing chest compressions. She glanced over the balcony to see Mike with his hands cradling the back of his head, covering his ears. His hands were clenched so tightly, that Robin was sure his nails were digging into his scalp. Will was hugging Jane, who was sobbing and clinging to him, shaking her head in denial.
Joyce suddenly walked out of the room. She was gasping and choking on her own tears. “Ms. Byers…?” Robin didn’t know what she was going to say or ask. She just needed confirmation that this wasn’t real. That this was just a Russian drug-induced dream. That this was all some sick nightmare or cruel joke from the universe, and she was gonna wake up to Steve sitting at the kitchen counter with an ice pack to his swollen eye and a coffee mug in hand. “’Bout time you woke up, Buckley.” He’d say with a smile despite the split in his lip, because Steve had the best smile, and he loved to show it. He smiled in the Russian bunker and smiled through tears. He smiled in every picture no matter the context, and Robin used to say he was too happy. He’d just shrug and say, “Better than being miserable.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Joyce whispered instead of disproving reality. She wrapped her arms around Robin’s shoulders. It was then that the younger girl felt her knees buckle, like she was made of broken glass and poorly glued back together, and all it took was Ms. Byer’s touch to make her break once more. A scream wrenched its way from her throat, loud and painful. It vibrated the walls and left her vocal cords burning. Joyce caught her as she fell, but Robin collapsed to the ground anyway. Joyce came with her, never releasing Robin from her arms.
Downstairs, Nancy had called 911. In Steve’s room, Jonathan was still desperately doing CPR, singing Bee Gees beneath his breath and looking at his friend through a teary, blurred vision. Jonathan didn’t tell anyone what happened until after the autopsy had shown that Steve had a broken sternum and broken ribs. Jonathan explained that he heard and felt the man’s chest crack and cave, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He couldn’t let Steve die. “I can’t get Stayin’ Alive out of my head…” he joked with a wet laugh, but everyone knew it wasn’t a joke. Everyone knew he now hated that song more than anything else.
It was Joyce that had read them the autopsy report. She was friends with the doctor who ran them. It was her that read from the doctor’s note that it was strange Steve died. It was that doctor who predicted that Steve had lied and hadn’t seen any of the paramedics, because even a first-day trainee would’ve seen the obvious head trauma from a mile away.
“That’s ridiculous!” Mike had scoffed, “Why would anyone refuse help from paramedics?”
“Because he didn’t want any.” Max answered. The way they talked about Steve’s death changed after that. No longer was it talking of a friend who died. They were talking about a friend who committed suicide. At least, that’s how Robin interpreted it—the change in everyone’s tone and the anger shown at the funeral. If a friend dies, they get mourned. If a friend kills themselves, especially one as important and relied upon as Steve, they get yelled at.
They had Chief Hopper’s funeral on Tuesday, Billy Hargrove’s was on Thursday, and Steve’s was on Monday. They tried to postpone Steve’s funeral until August for when his parents would be back, but, when Joyce called the Harringtons, they forwarded money and told her to go on with the funeral without them. Joyce ended up breaking that phone after giving Steve’s mother a piece of her mind, which mostly contained curse words and heavy insults. The plastic shattered in her hands after she slammed the phone on the hook repeatedly, cursing Steve’s parents and sobbing about a son that wasn’t really hers.
At Hopper’s funeral, nearly the whole town showed up. There were a lot of funerals the following weeks for a lot of Hawkins citizens, but Hopper was the chief and considered the hero of the fire, so it made sense that he had the biggest crowd to show up. It was so crowded that Robin was forced to stay in the outskirts of the pack with Erica and Lucas beside her. She ended up leaving early. She didn’t know the man that well, anyway.
Billy’s funeral wasn’t as crowded, but a few people from school showed up, including some from the old basketball and swim team. Billy’s dad left early, muttering something about “a waste.” Mrs. Wheeler was there, and she was crying, which Robin found strange. Sure, the woman could’ve been there because Nancy and Mike were, but that didn’t excuse her crying. Max was standing by the lowering casket with her arms crossed, refusing to cry, but she did. Her jaw clenched and her hands turned to fists, as if she was angry at herself for tearing up. Robin was just observant enough to notice these things, and she placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. Max leaned into her touch without a word. In fact, they didn’t speak at all that day. Robin wonders if she should’ve said something—anything—to comfort the girl more than a touch could, but Steve’s funeral was coming up. Robin couldn’t be bothered to comfort anyone past a touch. How could she when she, herself, was ripping at the seams?
Steve’s funeral had the least amount of people to show up. Tommy and Carol showed up to the ceremony, but they left before the burial. There was exactly 13 in attendance at the burial once the preacher and the graveyard men left. There was Robin, Dustin, his mom, Lucas and Erica, Mrs. Sinclair, Mike and Nancy, the Byers, Jane, and Max, who caught a ride from Lucas’s mom because her mom was working that day.
Steve’s gravestone was tall but simple, with little flowers carved into the border and floral vases at the sides. Everyone pitched in to add to the stone what Steve’s parents weren’t willing to pay for.
Steve Harrington
April 12th, 1967 — July 5th, 1985
Beloved Friend, Hero, Babysitter
“Anyone want to say a few words?” Joyce asked once the dirt was place over their friend. The woman’s face was red, and tissues were clenched in her fists. Thinking back, Robin realized that Joyce hadn’t cried at a single funeral, not really. At Hopper’s, she teared up, but she was so busy comforting Jane that she didn’t allow herself the breakdown she probably needed. At Billy’s, she comforted Max, taking over for Robin when the older girl had to leave early. At Steve’s funeral, Joyce Byers didn’t cry, because she had to be there for the kids, but it proved difficult. The tissues in her hand had little splotches of blood from her nails digging into her palms. It took Robin a long time to figure out why Ms. Byers was torturing herself, but the answer hit her like a train. Joyce is a mom; moms can’t cry. Never in front of the kids. They keep themselves together and cry when the lights in the house are off and the work for the day is finally finished. They let their tears build up inside of them until they explode. Robin wonders if any dishes were broken in the Byers’ household that week. No one, not even Joyce Byers, could survive that long with that many bottled tears without breaking some glass.
Robin liked Joyce, but she was too busy staring down at the patch of dirt that was once her friend to really hear Ms. Byer’s question. The small crowd stayed silent when it was asked, save for a few sobs, sniffs, and gasps for air. Max stepped forward, staring down at Steve’s grave with a red face and swollen lips. “Fuck you.” She gasped through a sob. Robin was surprised she didn’t bite her bottom lip clean off when she used it as a method to stop her tears.
Max then leaned down to drop a bracelet on the grave. It’s one of those braided ones, made with string, beads, and yarn. “El and I made you this at our sleepover. We were gonna give it to you, but I didn’t have it with me at Starcourt. I-I guess it’s useless now. What kind of friend are you? Y-you fucking asshole.” She spoke only after her sobs were subsided into small cries. She wiped her eyes and looked at the rest of her friends before walking off. She went and sat at her brother’s grave, and everyone knew it wasn’t because she loved Billy more. It was because she hated people seeing her cry, so they looked away once her shoulders began to shake, and her hand flew to her mouth to deafen the sobs and gasps. Her hair was pulled over her as a curtain to hide her own disgust—her emotions. Robin leaned over to look at the bracelet. “#1 Babysitter” it read in those little lettered beads. The string was blue and yellow–Steve’s favorite colors. The colors were recently poisoned for Robin.
Mike went up next. “I, uh, still think you’re a dumb jock, but you’re a good person. Y-you saved our lives more times than I can count. You saved my life more times than I can count. Thank you…” Mike stepped back and stared at the sky, anywhere but the ground. “I wish you were still here, so you could tell Dustin to stop being an asshole. You were always the one to keep his ego in check.” Mike laughed wetly, “He’s gonna be awful to deal with now that you’re… now that you’re gone…” Mike took another step back, like Steve’s grave was suddenly a demodog ready to pounce instead of a mound of dirt and stone. “Why’d you have to leave us, man? You were supposed to lead us—teach us about surviving high school and dealing with other dumb jocks. You—you’re a fucking jerk, you know that!?” Nancy grabbed his arm before he could storm forward. Mike leaned against his sister and turned his eyes away from Steve’s grave completely. Perhaps, he believed that, as long as he didn’t see the newly dug dirt, it wouldn’t be real. Nancy wrapped her arms around her brother, as he hid his crying face in her black dress. To Robin’s surprise, the girl owned three, and she wore a different one to each funeral. This dress was Robin’s personal favorite, as it was mostly tool with a tight waistline and a small shawl, like a 50’s prom dress. Steve would’ve liked it.
“He was supposed to teach me basketball.” Lucas spoke so quietly that Robin was sure only she heard it, as she was the only one to look his way. “We were supposed to practice all Summer, man. You still haven’t taught me how to properly do a lay-up.” He laughed until he cried, and then he laughed some more, “I promise you; I’ll get on the team. Hell, I’ll make it to varsity—the big leagues, the NBA. I don’t care if they don’t let freshmen on V; I’ll find a way. I’ll practice every day, and I’m getting your old jersey number, okay? You better come to my games. I’ll be looking out for you, got it?” he was smiling through his tears, and Robin had to look away. Lucas was always the type to put on a brave face, but Robin saw the way his smile cracked his façade. It was too forced; it was disturbing to watch. She could hear the slow transition of his laugh turning into painful sobs. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard a noise other than a sob.
Lucas dropped something on Steve’s grave, and she looked down to see his old jersey folded and placed neatly on the dirt. Lucas wiped at his eyes and glanced around at his friends. He clenched his jaw and tried to stop the tears from falling, but they wouldn’t stop. “I-I’m sorry.” he walked away to join Max, stopping at his mom to grab tissues from her purse. The mothers, besides Joyce, were sitting far away on a bench to give everyone space to say goodbye. Robin realized as she watched Lucas walk over to them, that, technically speaking, only 11 people attended Steve Harrington’s burial. They were just bystanders.
Lucas approached Max like a wild animal, but she merely patted the ground beside her. It made sense. They had matching wounds. Both lost a brother, and Robin is not including Billy in that statement.
“You saved us.” Erica spoke next. “I was so scared, and you protected us, like a knight. You’re an idiot for doing it, but you did it. And now you…” Erica furrowed her brow before reaching into her skirt’s pocket. She pulled out a My Little Pony figurine. Robin didn’t know which one it was, but it must’ve meant a lot to Erica. The girl sobbed as she placed it beside Max’s bracelet. “You better not lose this. It’s my favorite, okay?” she pointed to the grave like she was giving Steve a lecture. Robin couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.
“What pony is that?” It was Will who asked, talking for the first time since they lowered Steve's casket.
“Twilight Sparkle.” Erica answered quietly, embarrassingly. It wouldn’t be for another three months that Erica would explain why she chose Twilight Sparkle. It was when the girl had wandered into Family Video to rent The Last Unicorn. Robin asked why she chose that character, and she told the older teen that it was because Twilight was a leader who valued friendship and loyalty. Robin sobbed after Erica left the store. She sobbed so hard that she nearly threw up her lunch and had to go home early. She doesn’t know why she cried so hard. Steve talked about being forced to watch My Little Pony with Erica, so she knew that Steve knew who Twilight Sparkle is. She laughs at the thought, because he would surely insist, he was a different character, but Erica’s right. Steve was a leader. He loved his friends, and he was as loyal as a dog to its owner.
Erica and Lucas left after that, bringing Max along because she didn’t want to stay, even if she was supposed to ride home with Nancy. Nancy dropped a teddy bear and a rose off at Steve’s grave. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” She sobbed through a tight mouth. Steve used to say that Nancy would call him an idiot the same way Robin calls him a dingus. “It’s affectionate.” he said, but Nancy’s tone was dripping with venom. The girl walked away, shaking her head and clenching her fists. Mike and she left, and she peeled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Anger fueled the vehicle more than gasoline, in that instance.
“When it rains, this will be destroyed, but you’re a real barbarian, Steve. Even if you don’t know what that is.” Will placed a drawing of Steve in a suit of leather armor that looked suspiciously like a Scoops Ahoy uniform. His weapon was a spiked bat, and he was smiling and looking at the sun. The next day, Robin stole that drawing to make a copy at the library’s printer. She returned the drawing the same day, but she had the copy hanging up in her room next to a polaroid Jonathan took of the ‘Scoops Troop’, as Dustin called them: Steve’s bloody yet smiling face, Erica’s tired eyes, Dustin’s bright smile, and Robin in her vomit and blood-stained uniform.
“I forgive you, Steve.” Jonathan said next. “I know I told you that a long time ago, but I don’t think you ever stopped blaming yourself for what you did. You’re not a bad person. You never were. I don’t hate you. I would never hate you. You’re… you’re my best friend.” His voice was shaking with his hands. He had nothing to give but a small photo of him, Steve, and Nancy on the Byers’ couch. Steve’s face was bloody and bruised (not from the Russians—apparently Jonathan throws a powerful punch), but he was smiling the brightest. Always the optimist, Robin supposed.
Joyce didn’t say anything. She was too busy comforting Jane, who kept trying to speak but came up short every time. The Byers and Jane left, leaving Dustin and Robin.
“I thought he was asleep…” Dustin whispered. He removed his ‘Camp Knowhere’ cap and placed it on the corner of Steve’s grave. “Sorry, it’s not Farrah Fawcett, but I don’t think they let hair spray into the afterlife.” Dustin joked. He laughed before he suddenly broke into sobs. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “You…” his voice broke, and he bit his quivering lip. “I hate… I hate you so, so much, Steve.” He shook his head. “Our deal was you die, I die. Not you die, I keep on living without you. What made you think I could do this without you?! Why would you leave me like this?! All you had to do was let them look at you! They were going to get to all of us eventually! They were paramedics Steve. It was their job to help you, and you sent them away! You insisted you were fine, you, fucking asshole. Why was it so hard to let someone else take care of you for once?! Why are you such a “hero” that you couldn’t… you…” his voice cracked, “you may think that was selfless, but this is the worst thing you’ve ever done. You weren’t helping us; you fucking killed yourself, and now I’m alone, Steve! Who’s going to drive me around? Who’s going to teach me how to talk to girls and do my hair? Who–Who’s supposed to be my dad now? Did you hear that? You were my dad, Steve. You weren’t my brother. You weren’t my babysitter or mom, Steve; you were my dad, and now you’ve gone up and left me too. You should’ve—you should’ve let them look at you! How hard was it to get help, you, fucking asshole!” Robin rushed forward to stop Dustin from kicking the dirt, grabbing his arms and yanking him back. “Let go of me!” Dustin shouted, shoving Robin away.
“Dustin, this isn’t what Steve would’ve wanted— “
“Don’t tell me what he wanted!” Dustin snapped. “You knew him, for what? A few months?!” He pushed forward, gesturing to himself. “I’ve known him for years, Buckley. He saved my life more times than I can count. We have been through hell together; you don’t get to tell me what he would or wouldn’t want!” He pointed an accusing finger to Robin, who held her hands up in surrender. “You didn’t even know him.”
“Dustin, I— “
“Just forget it.” He spat. He left before Robin could say another word. She watched him storm past his mom, who offered a comforting hand, but he just ignored her and shoved his way past. He marched to her car and yanked at the door to get in. They drove off with nothing but a sparing, apologetic glance at Robin from Ms. Henderson. She smiled back and waved.
Robin turned back to Steve’s grave and sighed. “Hey, Dingus…” she greeted with an awkward smile, “I hate wearing dresses, you know.” She looked down at the black dress her mom forced her into, as dad’s suit was just on the side of too big. She looked back up at Steve… Steve’s grave. “I tried to convince them to let me write Dingus on your grave, but they weren’t having it. They said something about insulting the dead, but they don’t understand what it means to us.” She licked her lips. “I’m surprised Tammy Thompson didn’t show up. I bet her singing would have woken you right up.” Robin snapped her fingers and began singing a “Kermit'' rendition of ‘Candle in the Wind’. She laughed and snorted, before she frowned and paused. “I should’ve woken you up. I shouldn't have let you sleep. Fuck, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.” She took a shuddering inhale. “I fucking hate The Fox and the Hound, Steve! You call that shit comforting? That movie’s your favorite? It’s depressing as shit, Dingus, and it makes me cry every time I watch it! A-A-And we were both scared. I should’ve forced you to sleep on the couch or-or gone with you. We should’ve been there for each other! I should’ve…” Robin interrupted herself with a gasp, like she was in pain. Then again, she was in pain. The kind of pain where there’s a stab in your chest from a knife that you can’t get out. No matter how much you claw at your skin and rip away your clothing, that knife stays. It’s not heartbreak. It’s not jealousy. It’s not rage. It’s guilt. It starts in your chest, and it spreads to the rest of your body like a slow building wildfire. And similar to a slow wildfire, you don’t notice it until the trees are all burning and there’s more smoke than clouds in the sky. “I should’ve saved you.” she glanced at the word ‘hero’ carved into his stone. “It should’ve been me.”
Robin went home after talking to Steve’s grave for another hour. She talked until the faucets in her eyes went dry and the numbness felt like a lump of burning coal in her throat. “I’m not hungry.” She muttered to her mom on the way to the bathroom. They had one bathroom in the house, but Robin didn’t give a shit. She spent nearly three hours there, staring at the mirror. Staring at her bruises. Staring at the dark circles and large, purple mark on her neck from where they pressed that needle into her skin. Staring at someone living. Someone who didn’t deserve to be.
In movies, it always rains at funerals. It didn’t rain. Of course, it didn’t. Steve hated the rain. “It ruins my hair, and it’s miserable and gray.” Instead, it was a cloudless day and hotter than the fireworks that burned the Mind Flayer. Robin was left sweating in her funeral outfit, so she got into the shower sometime during hour two of crying. She sat down in the tub instead of standing and cried with the water. Turns out, she hadn’t run dry, she just ran out of excuses to cry at Steve’s grave instead of going home where her parents would do nothing but pity her and care for her. She didn’t want pity; she wanted Steve. “I wish you were here, Steve.” She whimpered, calling out to her lost friend.
Her friend, who was sitting outside the bathroom door. Steve, who was still in his Scoops uniform and wishing he changed his clothes before he went to sleep. Steve, who had his elbows resting on either knee as he held his head in his hands. Steve, who was sobbing and crying along with Robin. “I’m right here…” he repeated. He lost how many times he had said the sentiment, but he was sure it was in the thousands by now.
“I’m right here.”
#fanfiction#fanfic writing#ao3 writer#ao3 fanfic#stranger things#steddie#eddie stranger things#steve harrington#steve x eddie#eddie munson#robin buckley#platonic soulmates stobin#platonic stobin#chapter 1#ghost au#one of them is dead#sad stuff#dustin henderson#wayne munson#stranger things fanfiction#archive of our own#alternative universe#steveddie#stranger things au#stranger things s4
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A Beach Day with Akatsuki
Summary: how would each of the Akatsuki members be in the cliche anime beach episode.
Warnings: mentions of deaths and alcoholic beverages. SFW.
Characters: Pein; Konan; Tobi; Zetsu; Itachi; Kisame; Deidara; Sasori; Hidan and Kakuzu (from Naruto).
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Kisame
Kisame liked the idea from the beginning.
As soon as he gets to the beach he goes straight to the water.
Likes to surf.
And it's really good at it.
He doesn't wear sunscreen.
He spends practically all day in the water.
He just goes out to pull someone out to sea with him.
Or to buy some ice cream.
He randomly comes out of the water sometimes and brings a very nice shell or rock and gives it to someone.
He tries to pull Itachi out to sea with him just to provoke him.
Kisame would come out of the water in the afternoon to watch the sun go down.
While drinking something refreshing, like coconut water or a drink.
That man was so comfortable.
It upsets him to have to leave the beach.
The next day he is locked in his room, sunburnt.
He doesn't want to go out for doesn't have to overhear Itachi saying "I told you" for refusing to apply sunscreen.
Still, he really liked his day at the beach and would do it all over again.
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Kakuzu
He didn't want to come.
Like, beach is just a warm place with salt water and sand, what's fun about that? That's what he thinks.
He is really in a bad mood.
He can't even cool off in the sea because he can't swim due to his stitched up body.
He tries to relax sitting in the shade of the parasol while reading a book.
But any noise bothers him.
And a beach with Deidara, Hidan and Tobi is sure to be noisy.
He eventually decides to walk to the edge of the sea away from the group while checking his bingo book.
Was that or kill those three.
In the end, when he is well away from the group he manages to enjoy the beach a little.
He sits near some palm trees.
The waves gently lap at him feet in a relaxing manner.
And finally the silence that he loves so much.
He would only reappear in the group in the evening, when started to cool down.
He is not sad that he has to leave.
And he would never admit that he enjoyed the quiet moments he spent alone.
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Tobi/Obito
Ever since he learned that him be going to the beach he has been extremely anxious.
He is wearing those bathing suits that cover the whole body, like surfers do.
But he doesn't surf.
Yes, he is wearing the mask even on the beach.
Doesn't stop at any moment.
He would go into the sea to jump the waves and end up falling as soon as they took their eyes off him.
Then he would get up as if nothing had happened.
He has been bothering Deidara since they arrived.
"Wow Deidara-senpai, I didn't know your abdomen was so defined" - would be just one of the comments he make to tease the blond.
Tobi is a good boy, so he put sunscreen on the parts that his suit doesn't cover.
Takes too much ice cream and ends up freezing his brain.
He would not want to leave the beach.
Would only do it when it was getting dark.
Definitely a happy child enjoying his day at the beach.
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Hidan
For Akatsuki to be able to go to a beach it would have to be isolated.
And well, I'm saying this because Hidan was responsible for offering Jashin anyone who showed up bothering.
He's a narcissist and made a point of getting a swimsuit that didn't cover too much and value his ass.
At first, he avoids getting into the water because he doesn't want to get his hair wet.
But when he enters the sea it's scary to see how he spends hours underwater since he can't die by drowning.
Enjoys bothering Kakuzu... as usual.
He purposely wets Deidara's hair.
Hidan wasn't worried about sunscreen.
After all, he's immortal, what difference does it make?
What no one knows is that he ended up going through the fear of losing the pale shade he likes so much.
He has who brought the alcohol.
He keeps drinking and bothering others with silly pranks.
Leave the beach at the end of the sunset already drunk.
He found the day at the beach fun.
After all he didn't have to work and spent all day drinking and making fun of the members, why would he complain?
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Zetsu
He likes sunbathe.
Obviously him don't wear sunscreen, because he don't need it.
Would avoid going into the sea because of the salt water.
White Zetsu wants to make a sand castle.
But doesn't work out too well because black Zetsu refuses.
He likes to drink a lot of water.
Zetsu purposely walks away from the group.
He likes to be alone and it is no surprise to anyone.
He finds the sound of the sea very relaxing.
White Zetsu wants to take the little shells he finds home.
Black Zetsu wants to eat the crabs he finds.
At some point he would end up sleeping.
Would only wake up when the sun started to set.
And then finally would return to the group to leave.
White Zetsu really enjoyed the day at the beach and think was relaxing.
Black Zetsu didn't think it was bad, but he wouldn't admit it and would say it was a waste of time.
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Deidara
“Finally a rest day” - that's what he thought, until he saw how Tobi can be even more irritating on the beach.
The beach is a very inspiring place for an artist.
So Deidara is trying not to waste all his explosive clay on Tobi.
He wants to tan, not burn, so he put on sunscreen.
Deidara knows and likes to surf.
And he's annoyed that Kisame is better than him at this.
He was avoiding going into the sea until Hidan wet his hair.
His bathing suit is the prettiest.
This boy has style.
He would retreat at some point to make sand castles without being seen.
Prefer to eat slushies.
Would want to compete with Itachi on something.
And would say he cheated when he lost and walk away from the group.
Collect shells <3
He tries to sunbathe, but Deidara is the kind of person who can't sit still.
So it's useless.
The sunset is art for him, after all it is temporary.
Appears out of nowhere in the group when they are leaving.
At the end of the day he's sulking.
Because the day at the beach was not what he expected.
… But he liked it.
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Itachi
To be honest, he doesn't really like the beach.
Like, he can't deny the place is beautiful, but what is he going to do here?
He ends up sitting in the shade of the parasol watching others have fun.
Most of the shells Kisame brings from the water are for him.
He obviously use sunscreen.
And brought it, in case anyone forgot.
In fact, the bag with everything needed for a day at the beach is his.
He doesn't really like the idea of going into the sea.
The most he'd do is get his feet wet because it's relaxing.
He's the one who bought Kisame's ice cream while he was getting out of the water.
He's not paying attention to Deidara's taunts.
And he made no effort to beat him.
He likes the sound of the sea.
Take the opportunity to rest for a while.
He ends up getting so relaxed and quiet you could swear he's sleeping sitting up.
Itachi finds the sunset a bit melancholy but beautiful.
Is eager to return to the group's hideout.
The next day he know that Kisame doesn't want to leave his room because he's sunburned.
He didn't think the day at the beach was all bad, but he would have preferred to go somewhere else.
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Pein
Honestly, he only accepted all this because of Konan.
Doesn't like warm places, so the beach is not his favorite place.
He came just to make sure that nothing bad would happened.
He refers to Hidan, Deidara and Tobi in the same place for more than 5 minutes.
And he doesn't want anyone to bother Konan either.
Konan who reminded him to wear sunscreen.
Pain likes to eat watermelon when he is at the beach, is refreshing.
He won't go into the sea, don't even try.
Doesn't like ice cream very much.
He doesn't really like sweets in general, they make him thirsty.
He notices when someone moves away.
Being honest, he is just waiting for the day to end.
He understands why they think sunsets are beautiful, him thought too when he saw how Konan admired the sky.
Pein makes sure that everyone is present as they come back.
Tobi tests his patience by refusing to return "so soon".
He understands that a rest is necessary... But for him it was just a wasted day.
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Konan
She was who gave the idea to go to the beach.
Konan likes to sunbathe, even though she's very pale.
Hoped that this day would be at least a little relaxing for Pain.
Konan would read a book in the shade while listening to the sound of the waves.
Likes to drink refreshing drinks, eat scratch cards, eat watermelon, etc.
She is enjoying the moment.
Would go into the sea to cool off a bit, but she would be quick.
Konan is very stylish, so her bikini makes her look radiant.
She really wants to play in the sand for a while.
But as we know she is shy, and ends up being embarrassed.
Didn't approve of the idea that Hidan could kill anyone who came along.
But her understand why Pein thinks it's necessary.
She loves the different shades that appear in the sky as the sun goes down.
Left the beach a little reluctantly.
She who manages to convince Tobi to leave.
Konan liked her day at the beach but wishes she had enjoyed it more.
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Sasori
He wonders why he had to come along.
Like, there's nothing for him to enjoy on the beach.
Not that he can't go into the sea, but he's a puppet, the job he'd take to get the water out of his body.
Not to mention that salt water can wear out his body.
Definitely out of the question.
The only problem is that all that sand and hot sun just reminds him more and more of his old village.
He doesn't have a problem with the heat at all, he actually likes it.
He would try to distract himself by looking for pretty rocks.
Kisame would notice and bring some for him.
He'd be so focused on this that he wouldn't realize he'd ended up walking away from the group.
He ended up getting wet when he picked up a rock too close to the sea and a wave came to meet him.
He returns to the group grumpy after that.
Sasori lies down waiting for the sun to dry him and ends up sleeping.
Hidan and Deidara bury him in the sand.
He hasn't seen the sunset and is just grumpy wanting to go back to hiding.
But he is taking the rocks he found with him.
He doesn't want to repeat the experience.
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Sorry for any typos;
Buy me a coffee?
Masterlist
#akatsuki#akatsuki headcanon#akatsuki cute#akatsuki fluff#akatsuki x you#akatsuki x reader#akatsuki soft#akatsuki fanart#itachi x reader#kisame x reader#kakuzu x reader#hidan x reader#obito x reader#pein x reader#konan x reader#deidara x reader#sasori x reader#zetsu x reader#itachi fanfic#kisame fanfic#kakuzu fanfic#hidan fanfic#deidara fanfic#sasori fanfic#obito fanfic#pein fanfic#konan fanfic#itachi headcanons#kisame headcanons#deidara headcanons
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Hey, Little Songbird
Final Chapter - AO3
Three days after the defeat of Gabriel Agreste and the arrest of Lila Rossi, Felix was invited out for ice cream by his classmates.
A little flustered, he’d agreed without thinking. Rationally, there was little reason to why Lê Chiếninvited him to join, and even less of a reason why Felix accepted. There was still too much to do in the wake of Hawkmoth’s arrest; lawyers to speak to, statements given to police and press alike, entertaining his mother who’d overtaken his home to take custody of Adrien… Frivolities like ice cream socials couldn’t be entertained.
Despite that idea, Felix found himself smiling under the sun, surrounded by classmates as they all took turns at the food cart.
Couffaine and her girlfriend—a few days of diligent study only unearthed a few of his classmates names, not all—stepped out of his way, a sundae to share between the two. He approached the ice cream stall and—“Where is your menu?”
The man, Andre or something similar, smiled merrily. “Ah, so this is your first time at Sweethearts Ice Cream? Allow me to explain.” Picking up his scoop, Andre started to fulfill his order despite Felix having never ordered anything. “Sweethearts Ice Cream has a special ablility; to connect the hearts of two people in love. The harmony of two hearts in love influences the flavors of the ice cream. And there!” With a flourish, Andre offered him his waffle cone ice cream. “Blackberry for her hair, blue bubblegum for her eyes, and black cherry for her secret you keep in your heart.”
“…This is a terrible business model.” Despite his words, Felix paid the man and took his cone. “I don’t even know who this could refer to.”
“Really? You have no idea?”
Nearly dropping his ice cream, Felix whirled around. “M-Marinette!? When did you get here?”
“Just now,” she said, squeezing up beside him at the counter. “Hey, Andre.”
“Marinette! You’re ready to give Sweethearts Ice Cream another chance then?” Andre grinned at them both. “Or… would you two like to try my Couples Sundae? It’s free for new lovers.”
Felix flushed, a protest frozen in his throat. Fortunately, Marinette could still speak. “No, thank you,” she said, voice pitched higher than usual. “Just a regular ice cream, please.”
“Of course, of course.” Changing his scoop for a fresh one, Andre started on a new waffle cone: a base of yellow with dark chocolate, with a scoop of bright blue on top. “Banana for his hair, cotton candy for his eyes, and…” He flipped the cone over and dipped it in chocolate, “…a dark chocolate shell, since you broke through his.”
Blushing, Marinette accepted her ice cream. Felix offered her his arm and escorted Marinette towards a bench separate from the class, who were watching them. Lê Chiến even offered Felix a grin and a thumbs-up, to which he awkwardly returned with a nod.
“How…” She paused to take a bite of her ice cream, dark chocolate snapping between her teeth. “How has everything been? I’m sorry for not being in class the past few days, but it’s been so busy…”
“I can only imagine.” Marinette—or rather, Ladybug—has been in and out of the police station as often as Adrien was, giving her statement. Between that and the press conference Mme. Bustier stopped class to let them watch yesterday, if she’d spent more time as Marinette than Ladybug these last few days, Felix would French-kiss Rossi. “It’s been quiet, especially once Ladybug announced that Gabriel was Hawkmoth. Ms. Bustier tried to make us talk about our feelings, but everyone’s still a bit too shocked to discuss it.” After all, it wasn’t every day when you discovered your classmate’s father was the terrorist who turned you into a supervillain. Reporters had hounded their class from the moment the news dropped.
They were even worse towards his family.
“The school’s talking about shipping in a therapist for us,” Felix explained. “Not only that whole Akuma Class nonsense, but also because we were in direct contact with a terrorist for months on end. So, you have that to look forward to when you get back.” Rossi was allowed unrestricted access to vulnerable minds for over half a year. There was no doubt his class needed therapy… including Marinette.
“At least she’s been expelled from the country,” Marinette said, sighing. “Honestly, that was harder than giving my statement ten times over. The Prime Minister wanted her trial on French soil. I had to argue with the Prime Minister! All for Lila.”
“Why?” Felix would never do anything to help Rossi.
“News of her involvement is going to drop any day now. People are already trying to attack Gabriel in his cell; when the mob of public opinion finds out about her, they’ll start trying to get her too. At least this way she’ll be tried back in her home country, by people who were never directly affected by her actions.”
Felix didn’t like it, but “It’s understandable. People are also trying to get to Adrien, despite his innocence.”
Marinette nodded, half-expected that. “How is Adrien? I haven’t heard from him at all.”
“One of his photographers leaked his phone number, so Mom took his phone away so he wouldn’t have to read all the vile filth people send him. He’s getting a new one soon.”
It wasn’t that Felix didn’t understand why people were so upset. Gabriel turned Paris into a battleground and friends into foes, but… the police had already released a statement denying Adrien’s cooperation regarding Hawkmoth, yet there are still hateful phone calls and texts coming in at every hour from people who wanted someone to blame. At least Mother was keeping a record of who sent the more illegal messages: the threats, the doxing, the… suicide baiting.
Their family lawyer would be well fed in the coming months.
It was hard with Adrien in his house. Awkward. Despite Adrien’s frame-job, he was still family, and Felix was someone who supported his family. But that didn’t mean Adrien was forgiven. Felix didn’t forgive, and he’d never forget.
Surprisingly, the tabloids were kind towards Felix. He made no effort in hiding his involvement in the case, both as the whistle blower for Hawkmoth and as a hero involved in the final take down. Mother had cut out some particularly flattering articles out to hang in their manor parlor, but fortunately the threat of arrest and restraining orders kept most of the rats away.
“How’d Adrien take it?” she asked.
Felix bit his ice cream, so he’d have time to answer. Damn that ice cream man. It was delicious. “He didn’t believe it at first… didn’t want to believe it. He’s seeing a therapist on Friday.”
Marinette wrapped her hands around her ice cream cone. “Poor Adrien…”
“He’ll recover; he’s stronger than you think. He’s already made plans to hang out for the weekend.” He gestured at Alya and DJ Boy, leaning against each other and sharing a sundae. Alya caught his eye and waved. “Everyone’s going to be okay now.”
“Yeah.” Marinette drank in the sight. Not just Alya and her paramour—though they earned a smile for finally making up—but their other classmates as well. Felix had never been invited to a class outing before, but even though they’d broken up into subgroups of couples and friends, everyone looked happy. “We’ll recover.”
The sun shined down on them all, warming skin like a heated blanket. Felix studied the melting treat at hand. “So. Ladybug?”
She flinched.
“I haven’t told anyone,” he reassured. “I understand why it’s a secret. I understand why you didn’t tell me. But…” He sighed. “I’ve been keeping this to myself for days. Can you please just… confirm?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes.” She peeked at him from the corners of her eyes. “This is me, confirming. Yes.”
Okay. A shiver ran through him. Marinette was Ladybug. His best friend was a superhero and trusted him enough to be a superhero too.
He was in love with Ladybug.
As was Chat Noir. And half of Paris. Shit.
“So, what gave me away?” she asked.
“Little things. Nothing anyone else could put together.” Little things that added up into the big picture. The way Ladybug knew he’d worn a hoodie earlier that day, the inherent trust she had in a man she previously punched in the face, the way she looked at him. But most importantly, Felix felt that she’d wanted to get caught, that Marinette had wanted him to know she was Ladybug, and that was what removed the block in his mind preventing him from realizing.
“Small mercies,” she muttered. “Did you really think I was Rena Rogue?”
Felix hid his face in his ice cream. “…It made sense at the time?”
She laughed at him. “Alya’s never going to let you live that down.”
Alya? Why would Alya care—? Oh. He felt his face growing red and it had nothing to do with the weather. “She really won’t, will she?” He asked, sounding faint.
“Yeah, you really dropped the ball on that conclusion. You should have heard her complain! “Your boy is so stupid, how do you even stand him?””
And now Felix was blushing for a different reason. Her boy?
“—I tried to keep her from talking about it in front of the other temporary heroes, but I think Viperion knows. Carapace definitely does.”
“Did she complain in front of Hawkmoth too?” he grumbled, wishing he was wearing a hoodie to better hide his face. “Throw Rossi into the loop while she’s at it? Maybe my mother would like to know all my follies?”
“Oh! Speaking of your mom—” Marinette pulled a chain out from under her shirt. His breath caught in his throat. She’d kept it on her person? “You can finally return this to her.” Threading the wedding ring off her necklace, she placed it his hand, its matching pair resting on his finger.
He squeezed it, the smooth ridges cutting into his palm… and returned it to her. “Keep it. It’s exactly where it needs to be.”
“What? But this is the entire reason you were here!” She tried to give it back again. “It’s your family ring!”
“It’s my family’s wedding ring,” he corrected. “And while most would consider this too forward of an approach, the realization that you’re the most eligible bachelorette in Paris is making me react… strongly. So, I was thinking about a spring wedding? After we graduate Lycée, of course, so it would be a long engagement—”
Marinette covered his mouth, face blush red from the tips of her ears to the neckline of her shirt. “What!?” She asked, voice cracking. “M-M-Marriage!? Felix, we can’t…”
“Well, yes, not right now. That’s why I said after Lycee.” Obviously. “I don’t see what the issue is? My family has had arranged marriages for centuries, and we like each other. Right?” Had he misidentified her feelings? She always acted sweet with him and blushed when he flirted, but what if he was wrong? What if he humiliated himself and ruined their friendship in one swift move—
“Of course I like you, but you haven’t even asked me out on a date yet!” She burst out, causing the rest of the class to glance over. She buried her face in her hands and continued, voice muffled, “Dating comes before marriage; I can’t believe I have to explain this to you!”
Oh. That was the issue. Gently pulling her hands away, he dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I got ahead of myself.” Alya glared at him from over Marinette’s shoulder. Nosy overprotective reporters, getting in everyone else’s business… “I didn’t mean to pressure you. What I mean with the ring is… a promise. I would love to be in a relationship with you, if you’d have me.”
She looked up at him from underneath her lashes. “A promise?”
“To stay by your side and support you in your endeavors.” His family’s marriage vows echoed in his mind, passed down from his grandparents, from his grandfather who was so in love with his grandmother that he couldn’t think of a world where she wasn’t his equal. “As long as you stay by my side and support me in return. To lift you up through the hard times and rejoice with your success. To be equals in all things. That’s what I want to promise you.”
Tears budded in her eyes. “To stay by your side… to be equals… that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Then, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend? And going out on a date with me?”
Her tears ran down her face, but her smile lit up the entirety of Paris with her joy. “Yes. I’d love to, Felix.”
Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice@dur55@kris-pines04@18-fandoms-unite-08@moonlightstar64@bee-a-garbage-shipper@sol-o-shade@kittyotakunoir666@tinyterror333@allieoftheenemy@marichat00@xgxmxtx@two-faced-biatch@feliciakainzofspades@evil-cricket@emilytopaz@spicybelladonna@chocolateherringtacofan@user00000003@wannajointhecrabcult@happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @sxltinette @kittydemon9000 @thetrashypanda423 @unoriginalmessess @toodaloo-kangaroo @troycattribunny@nikipuppeteer
#ml salt#lila rossi's lies are exposed#felinette#fandom felix#lila salt#felix graham de vanily#marinette dupain cheng#alya cesaire#hey little songbird#mlb#miraculous fanfic#salt fanfic#thank you all for reading#your comments meant the world to me#except for the lila anon
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