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radiosteve · 4 months

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Casual

Summary: When did being friends with benefits with Steve Harrington get so complicated? Probably when your "no strings attached" relationship suddenly had strings.

Note: Loosely based on the song Casual by Chappell Roan. I slowly wrote this over the past month or so which is why it took so long. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, No use of y/n, language, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), angst, jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 11.3k+

Knee deep in the passenger seat

The buzz of the evening air filled the car, prickling your skin with each passing second. Or maybe that was the A/C that Steve had on full blast, cooling the cramped car to an uncomfortable degree. Without a second thought, you reached forward, fingers finding the dial that would alleviate the shivers raking your body. But Steve’s hand shot out, swatting away your futile attempts to not freeze to death in the passenger seat.

“What the hell, Steve?” you shot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest and unknowingly pushing up your breasts in the process, drawing Steve’s not-so-subtle gaze. In all honesty, Steve was cold too. Sure, it was summer in Hawkins and the sweltering heat and humidity bogged down the heavy air, but his car was a cool 66°F.

“I’m sweating over here, sweetheart,” Steve shrugged, placing his hand back on the steering wheel. He was lying of course, but he couldn’t tell you that he wanted the A/C on so he could continue to catch glimpses of your pebbled nipples poking against the thin fabric of your tank top. He especially couldn’t say that because Eddie and Robin were in the backseat, a fact he had entirely forgotten until their muffled conversation rose dramatically in volume.

“And then they found that old guy’s fucking bones,” Eddie practically shouted with excitement, and your brow furrowed. Robin echoed Eddie’s statement, sharing the same elation regarding their conversation topic, which only confused you more. You turned in your seat, curious to know what the hell you had missed between them during your battle with Steve and the air conditioner. But then the car jerked to the left entering Forest Hills trailer park, and you knew you’d never find out.

The car halted in front of Eddie’s trailer, causing your body to jerk forward at the sudden stop. You let out a groan in response and were met with Steve’s cruel cackle. Meanwhile, Eddie tumbled out of the backseat into his front lawn and Robin followed suit on the other side.

“Wait, Rob,” you called, quickly rolling your window down so she could actually hear you. “I thought we were dropping you off?”

“Change of plans. I promised Max that we’d go through her comic collection so I’m just gonna crash at her place tonight,” Robin pointed over her shoulder and you spotted the mess of fiery red hair watching from the window. You nodded and exchanged a quick goodbye as Robin strolled over to Max’s front door. You watched her retreating figure, but it was soon blocked by Eddie ripping the passenger door open and hastily grabbing your cheek before placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Dude,” you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, trying to rid yourself of any trace of Eddie’s saliva. Eddie’s eyes flickered over your shoulder to land on Steve. He watched the fire ignite in Steve’s eyes, the flames encasing his pupils at the stretch of Eddie’s smirk.

“C’mon, princess. You know you want me,” Eddie winked at you and you pushed him away from the car with a laugh. He stumbled back a few steps, regaining his balance as you pulled the car door shut.

“In your dreams, Munson,” you shot him a smile as Steve began driving off, leaving Eddie to watch as the car pulled away. He stood content, knowing he’d accomplished his mission to rile Steve up. You rolled up the window and turned to Steve, expecting his expression to reflect the amusement you felt as a result of Eddie’s antics.

But Steve, ever so unpredictable, had never been one to conform to your expectations before. His face appeared hardened, like it was set in stone as his white knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly. He kept his gaze on the road as if he was incapable of looking elsewhere, particularly at you.

The silence grew heavy within the car, only elevating the tension that blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. Steve was driving too fast and you wanted to tell him to slow down but he spoke before you could.

“You like it when Munson kisses you?” his tone was harsh and cold like you were his worst enemy rather than his friend of many years. But you’d known Steve long enough to understand where this was coming from. He was jealous, though he’d never ever admit it, not to himself and most certainly not to you. Despite his insistence to keep things casual between you and him, he was quite good at blurring the line.

“Steve, I’d hardly call that a kiss,” you scoffed, already knowing that this was an argument in the making. Steve was silent, knots forming in his tensed shoulders as he continued driving. “And what does it matter? You made out with Stacy Townsend last week. It's not like we're dating, Steve,” you huffed and the car quickly turned off the main road into a shaded grove, away from any prying eyes.

Steve practically threw the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt so quickly you could’ve gotten whiplash. He exited the car, rounding the back and appearing at your door before you could even turn in your seat to track his motion. Steve tore the door open, leaning down and reaching between your legs. Your breath stopped at the feeling of his arm brushing against your thighs, but you quickly realized he was simply adjusting the seat to push it all the way back.

“What are you-” you began but quickly stopped as Steve occupied the space in front of you. His knees rested on the carpeted floor of his car as his back brushed against the glove box. There was enough room for him to comfortably rest between your open legs as he swung the door shut, trapping you in the confines of his presence.

“Is he a good kisser?” Steve asked, the traces of jealousy still ever so present in his tone, but there was something else too. Something deeper and more lustful that almost helped to outweigh the annoyance you felt in the moments prior. You knew to play along, follow Steve’s prompts, and adapt to the scenario.

“He’s pretty good, Stevie. Might want to kiss him again,” you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and you watched Steve’s gaze trace over you. He once again found the outline of your peaked nipples, teasing him in the car’s cool atmosphere. Steve couldn’t help himself, letting his fingers trail up your chest, tracing over your nipples once he finally reached them.

“Is he better than me?” Steve asked, relishing in the soft sign that escaped you at the brush of his fingers over your clothed skin. He knew your body like the back of his hand at this point, giving him some control over you.

“He might be,” you refused to give in, knowing Steve would give you what you want regardless. But Steve understood you in the same way that you did him, and he expected that you’d play hard to get, which only made it more fun for him. One of his hands dropped, reaching for the hem of your tank top and pulling it up above your breasts, leaving them on display for him.

Steve resumed his teasing to your left nipple, gently circling it with his thumb. He leaned in slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours as his lips met your breast, placing slow open-mouthed kisses on your soft flesh. After leaving a few marks he brought his mouth to your nipple, gently pecking it with his soft lips before placing a bruising kiss on it in a way that made you gasp in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned as Steve’s teeth grazed your sensitive skin. His eyes never left yours, drinking in the sight of you slowly unraveling at the feel of his lips. Steve trailed his kisses lower, expanding over your torso and down to the waistband of your skirt.

His hands caressed your thighs, parting them even wider than before while he hiked your skirt up your hips. The lace of your panties now sat exposed to Steve as his hungry eyes roamed over the fabric.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve spoke with a smirk, his breath fanning over your lap, warming your cunt in a way that made you squirm. “Just leave that for Munson since he’s such a better kisser,” confidence and cockiness dripped from Steve’s voice like honey. He moved to pull your skirt back down, anticipating your pleas to continue. Luckily for him, you conceded.

“No, Steve. Please,” you begged, hand shooting out to stop him. And that was all he needed before he was pulling your panties from your legs and tossing them somewhere in the backseat. You were sure you’d never see them again. Steve placed a gentle kiss on your clit before licking your entrance to make you squirm. As if it were pure instinct, your hand shot out, gripping the soft locks of Steve’s hair.

That motivated him to really dive in, being more purposeful in the swipe of his tongue through your folds. Steve relished in the sound of your moans, the way your hips slid against the seat to meet his mouth, and how you threw your head back when his nose nudged your clit. Quite frankly, Steve had never been a big fan of eating girls out until he started hooking up with you. There was something about the way you reacted to the flick of his tongue that ended in him cumming in his pants on more than one occasion.

“So close, Stevie,” the breathy tone of your voice encouraged Steve further as he abandoned your entrance. His lips attached firmly to your clit, letting his teeth graze your sensitive bud as he sucked on it. Your chest was heaving at that point, tits jiggling with each heaving breath, and the sight had Steve palming himself through his jean shorts. And suddenly it was all too much for you as Steve’s tongue flicked wildly over your clit.

Your thighs shook around Steve’s head while your fingers dug deep into his scalp and you came undone. Steve lapped at your entrance, licking up every last bit of your slick before finally pulling back with a labored breath. He leaned up on his knees, admiring how fucked out you looked. It was his favorite way to see you. Steve placed a fervent kiss on your lips, encapsulating all of the passion that flowed through you both at that moment.

“So who’s the better kisser now?” Steve whispered against your lips as a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. You scoffed, pushing him gently away from you and pulling your skirt back down. It was impossible to keep the smile from your lips though, especially when Steve got up from the footwell of the car and you saw the wet spot on the crotch of his shorts.

He got back in the driver’s seat and brought the car back to life. This time you welcomed the harsh blast of the A/C given the sticky heat between your legs and the warm air that now filled the fogged-up car. Steve drove you home, stopping in front of your driveway to let you out. He placed a quick peck on your lips before letting you out, leaving you to walk back to your front door. You stopped just before the entrance, turning to get one last look at the maroon BMW before disappearing into your house. The taste of yourself and Steve’s arrogance still lingered on the tip of your tongue as you watched him drive off into the dark summer night.

You said “Baby, no attachment”

“Jesus, this place is packed,” Eddie spoke beside you, his grip tight on his black lunch box. He’d dragged you to some house party so he could have company while he dealt. But you’d tagged along with Eddie to one too many parties to know that he’d soon disappear behind a wall of letterman jackets that he’d overcharged for weed simply because he could. You only agreed to go because of the promise of free booze.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you shouted over the blaring music that ricocheted off the walls in the crowded living room. Eddie nodded, already being pulled away by someone looking to buy from him. You struggled your way through the sea of people to the closed-off kitchen, settling on whatever liquor you deemed the strongest. It was then that you saw him. Steve’s perfectly styled hair framed his face as he leaned down to whisper something into the ear of some very tipsy blonde across the room.

“Figures,” you scoffed under your breath, tilting your cup to your lips and ingesting its bitter contents. Steve hadn’t told you he was coming to the party, likely because he was determined to find a one-night stand or come crawling to you if he struck out. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You refilled your now empty cup before departing the kitchen and shimming your way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. A slight buzz already consumed you, diminishing any worried thoughts, particularly about a certain brown-haired boy.

Someone in a letterman jacket approached you, matching your movements with a shy smile. His name was Marcus, one of the nicer basketball players from your graduating class. Letting the alcohol control you, you threw your arms over his shoulders, careful not to spill your drink. You pulled him close, pressing yourself flush against him and moving to the beat of the music. Marcus was cute, flushed red as his hands snaked around to land on your hips.

As you got lost in the ocean blue of Marcus’s eyes, you remained oblivious to the sudden drawl of Steve’s attention as he stumbled into the room. Steve’s stare lingered over your figure, the press of your breasts against Marcus’s chest, the trail of his fingers as they inched towards the hem of your skirt. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from you, brushing off whatever girl he’d been trying to bed and stalking in your direction.

Marcus’s lips hovered over yours, tempting you with each passing breath. Finally, sick of the teasing, you used your free hand to pull his neck down, effectively closing the gap. He tasted like bubblegum and Coca-Cola, and it became clear to you then that he hadn’t been drinking. You weren’t some drunken conquest to him, just a girl he wanted to dance with.

You pulled back at the revelation, feeling a little guilty for assuming all the boy in front of you wanted was a drunken hookup. But you didn’t have much time to think about it because Steve came barreling over from across the room.

“Marcus,” he spoke simply, eyeing the boy up and down. They had been teammates at one point, but now in Steve’s mind, they were mortal enemies. He wasn’t sure why he felt so jealous considering he’s the one who insisted on being friends with benefits and nothing more. But there was no time to dwell on that.

“Hi, Steve. How have you been?” Marcus asked genuinely, seemingly unaware of the growing tension between the three of you. You stood like a deer in headlights, watching and waiting for the tornado to touch down, the hurricane to make landfall, Steve to do something stupid.

“I’m doing great. Mind if I borrow her?” Steve brushed off Marcus’s attempts at friendly conversation, gesturing to you and grabbing ahold of your arm to drag you away before Marcus could even answer. It wasn’t exactly the stupid gesture you thought it would be, more like fists thrown and punches landed, but it still annoyed you just as much.

“What the hell are you doing?” you finally wiggled out of Steve’s grasp as he took you out the front door. You set down the cup that had previously occupied your hand before whipping around angrily to meet Steve’s gaze.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, staring you down as if he were a parent scolding his disobedient child.

“It’s a party, Steve. I’m partying,” you rolled your eyes, your voice deadpan as the heat of your rage mixed with the hot summer air. Steve scoffed, moving across the front porch to stand in front of you.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart. What were you doing with Marcus?” Steve’s breath fanned your face, doing nothing to help cool you in your overheated state.

“Whatever I want. You and I aren’t dating, remember?” you gestured between the two of you. Suddenly you felt like you’d been backed into a corner. Steve’s body inched closer to yours, encompassing you against the house’s siding, trapping you with nowhere to go. Partygoers came and went as they pleased, not sparing a passing glance your way as Steve cornered you. For a moment you let yourself get pulled into his allure, succumbing to his overwhelmingly dominant charm.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have me all to yourself? Then you wouldn’t have to hook up with other guys to try and make me jealous,” Steve’s lips ghosted over yours in the way that always left you whining for more. But something stopped you.

“Wait,” you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back to give you space. “You think I kissed Marcus to make you jealous?” you asked a very confused Steve as you deliberately ignored the fact that he had admitted to being jealous. Steve’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he said wrong.

“Yeah, why else would you have kissed him?” Steve countered, pulling back from you naturally, allowing more space to blossom between you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you stated, anger boiling up beneath the surface and scorching your skin. “Not everything is about you, dickhead,” you pushed past him, heading back towards the front door, desperately in need of another drink after this. But Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm for a second time that evening. His grip was softer this time, free of the possessive fury that drove him earlier.

“That was shitty. I’m sorry,” he rushed out, dropping the overconfident demeanor. In the complicated web of your relationship, it was often difficult to remember what you truly were: friends. And now, before you, stood a friend who genuinely felt bad for making everything about him.

“That was really shitty,” you spoke fiercely, still unmoved with Steve’s grip on your arm. “Apology accepted,” you caved, and Steve dropped his hand, ignoring the sudden cold that filled his palm in the absence of his skin on yours.

“Can we just forget about this and go back inside?” Steve asked and you responded with a nod, already halfway to the door. The party was even more crowded than before, making it far more difficult to find Marcus. “Shit,” Steve muttered beside you, pulling your gaze in the same direction as his.

Across the living room on the makeshift dance floor was the blonde girl Steve had been chatting up earlier. A wicked grin spread across your lips as you watched her sloppily suck face with some dude who was sure to be holding back her hair later while she spilled her guts into a toilet. You stifled a laugh, pulling Steve’s attention away from the blonde and back to you.

“See what happens when you meddle in my love life,” you patted him on the shoulder, his frown only making it harder to contain your laughter.

“Yeah, well I don’t see Marcus anywhere. Maybe he’s got some girl holed up in a room somewhere,” he pointed over his shoulder to the hallway of locked bedroom doors. He wanted to make you feel how he felt at that moment like he was the last kid picked for the kickball team. Undesired. Not that it could possibly be true though, because there was always one person who would always want you, even though he’d never admit it.

“Whatever, I’m getting another drink,” you brushed him off, already making your way through the packed room to burst through the kitchen door. You entered the kitchen, unexpectedly bumping into a solid chest clad in orange, white, and green. Marcus.

“Hey, where’d you and Harrington run off to earlier?” he asked, fingers brushing your arms as he steadied you.

“Sorry about that. Steve was having some girl trouble and needed advice,” you lied, though somehow not entirely. Marcus gave you a soft smile with a nod of understanding. “Do you maybe want to get out of here?” you asked, hoping you didn’t scare off the shy, sweet boy before you.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but beam back up at him. You led him back through the throngs of people, passed Eddie who gave you a thumbs up at the sight of Marcus’s hand wrapped around yours, and out the front door.

On the porch steps sat a very deflated Steve, smoking what you were sure wasn’t a cigarette. You told Marcus you’d meet him by his car before sitting down next to Steve.

“Rough night?” you asked as if it was your first time seeing him that evening. He played along with your game though, something he always did.

“You could say that. Think a girl is gonna go home with you and then she’s mackin’ on some other dude,” he blew smoke from his lips, the skunky scent filling the air around you. “Still got you though. What do you say? I can take you back to mine and rock your world, sweetheart,” he wagged his eyebrows at you, his goofy nature peeking through.

It always surprised you how drastically different he could be with you. One minute he’d have you pinned against a wall with his tongue down your throat and the next he’d crack a joke and flub the punchline. The duality of man it seems, or maybe just Steve.

“Sorry, Stevie. I’ve already got a ride,” you pointed towards Marcus who stood leaning up against his car, awaiting your arrival back to his open arms. “See you tomorrow?” you stood, patting him on the knee, and began your trek across the lawn. Steve mumbled out a response, watching as you approached Marcus.

Upon your arrival, Marcus took you in his arms, placed a soft kiss on your lips, and opened the passenger door for you. Steve watched as you waved to him through the car window, taking another drag from the joint between his fingertips. He wasn’t sure when he started feeling so empty, so complicated when he thought he was devoid of love. But he knew as the taillights disappeared into the dark summer night, that something sparked within him. The lack of strings involved in no strings attached had suddenly appeared and become tangled together.

Dream of us in a year

The cardboard box weighed heavy in your hands as you exited the elevator. Sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors as you traveled down the hall, stopping in front of a door labeled 217. Your hands fumbled with the handle, struggling to keep the box from falling as you tried to open the door.

It swung open, revealing a floppy-haired Steve with his sleeves rolled up behind it. He was a year older now, stubble shadowing his upper lip while shallow wrinkles had already started to line his forehead. He grabbed the box from your hands and moved inside, setting it down in the apartment’s living room. You took a moment to look around, taking in the freshly painted walls and soft carpeted floors.

“Can you believe we’ve got this whole place to ourselves?” Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, breathing in the scent of your perfume. Lavender and vanilla.

“You say that as if Eddie, Robin, and the kids won’t constantly be in and out of here,” you spoke, spinning around to face Steve. Steve shrugged, a smirk cresting his lips.

“Not if we don’t give them a key,” Steve asserted, evoking a laugh from you, throwing your head back as the sound spilled from your lips. As if they’d let you and Steve have your own apartment without giving them easy access to it too. Steve took advantage of your thrown-back head and placed his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up the column of your throat.

“Steve,” you groaned, stuck between wanting him to continue and needing to keep moving your belongings into your new apartment. But Steve continued his attack on your neck, licking over the fresh bruises he painted across your skin.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll have to christen this place at some point. Why not now?” Steve spoke against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He pushed you back, your body softly colliding with the end of the kitchen counter.

“We’ve still got boxes to bring up,” you answered in heavy, panting breaths. Steve’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips traveling to yours in a bruising heat. He was weakening your resolve by the second.

“You really want to stop, then we’ll stop,” Steve stated, pulling back from your lips. He was calling your bluff, you knew that. But your lips missed his and you suddenly felt so cold without his body pressed to yours. So you caved.

“Fuck it, we’ll get ‘em later,” you pulled Steve back in, crashing your lips back together. Steve’s hand drifted from its place on your cheek, moving down your body. He stopped at your breast, giving it a squeeze, before moving down to your shorts.

In one fell swoop, Steve pulled your shorts and panties down your legs and replaced the cloth of your underwear with his fingertips. He brushed against your wet folds, coating his fingers in your juices. A whimper slipped from within you, Steve’s teasing only arousing you more.

He finally slipped a finger in and curled it. Your knees buckled, hands gripping the cool granite countertop to hold you steady.

“Shit, Steve. Feels so good,” he continued his motion, adding another finger. You could feel the tension building within you like a rubber band threatening to snap. You just got to the edge when…

You startled awake, abruptly sitting up and slamming the side of your head into something.

“Ah fuck, that hurt,” you said, rubbing the aching spot and leaning back into the couch.

“You’re telling me,” Steve said from beside you, also touching his head in pain. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and slammed your head into his when you snapped awake.

“Sorry, had a weird dream,” you apologized before directing your attention back to the movie you’d been watching before you fell asleep.

“Yeah? What was it about,” Steve prodded, trying to pull your focus back to him. He was clearly just as bored with whatever movie was playing as you had been.

“I, uh, don’t really remember,” you lied poorly, keeping your eyes off of Steve. It felt weird to face him after your dream. It made you feel guilty like your subconscious wanted your relationship with Steve to be more than what it was.

“Liar,” Steve concluded after studying your avoidant gaze. He inched closer, his body turned towards you in his spot on the couch. “You had a sex dream,” he accused and your head snapped in his direction. Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed what Steve had already guessed. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed with a smile on his face.

“Nope. No. I didn’t have a sex dream,” you denied but Steve was already ignoring you, lost in a slew of his own thoughts.

“You had a sex dream while sleeping on my shoulder. Should I be flattered or offended? Well, I’d be flattered if it was about me. Was it about me?” Steve rambled, ignoring your protests. Once again, your avoidant eyes told Steve everything he needed to know.

“So what? We’ve had actual sex. What’s it matter if I dreamed about it?” you spoke defensively once you realized there was no point in hiding the truth. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that your body now faced Steve.

“Nothing wrong with it, babe. Just wish you’d told me sooner. We could already be working on making your dream a reality,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning a chuckle in response. Steve leaned in, his body hovering over yours, lips just a breath away from touching.

“No thanks, Stevie,” you pushed him back playfully, knowing he’d be back on you in a second. Just as you expected he moved back in, closing any distance between you.

“Don’t dream it, be it,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Don't you dare quote Rocky Horror at me right now,” you scolded Steve with a smile, one that he reflected back at you.

“Let me kiss you then,” he spoke softly, tenderly, like it was his biggest desire. You melted, feeling some form of intimacy that rarely reared its head during your hookups with Steve. The walls between you fell down, allowing Steve’s lips to meet yours.

It was soft, gentler than he’d ever kissed you before. As if a switch had been flipped within you both, the lust and desire that had been building for months finally reached its peak and spilled out from each of your lips.

Steve’s knee came up between your thighs, adding the friction you desperately needed after the combination of your dream and his kiss. You pulled apart for a second so you could take off your top and bra, your eyes refusing to leave Steve’s as you did.

You laid flat on your back, extending an open invitation for Steve to swoop in. His gaze on you was hungry and lustful, but it was also something else, something different than it ever had been before. If you didn’t know any better you'd think the look in his eyes was love.

Steve followed suit, removing his own shirt and shimming out of his pants and boxers. He pulled your shorts and panties from your legs, staring open-mouthed at your exposed core. Your dream already had your folds coated in desire, begging to be lapped up by Steve’s skilled tongue. He wanted to taste you, to devour you in the way you both loved, but your hand stopped him.

“Stevie, need you now,” you whined breathily, Steve’s eyes catching yours once again. He nodded, moving up to hover over your body that lay flat against the couch. Your slick made it easy for him to slip in, earning whimpers from both of you as your walls sucked him in.

Steve watched your face for a moment, simply because he could, because he wanted to. He admired the scrunch of your brow, the slight gape of your lips, and the pleading look in your eye. It only enticed him more, finally encouraging him to move.

With a sharp breath, Steve pulled out a bit before pushing back in. It was slow and deep, a stark contrast to the usual fast and rough nature of your hookups with Steve. He was hitting places deep within you, pulling silent moans from your lips.

Your hands searched for something to hold, to guide you through the pleasure Steve’s thrusts were forging. One hand landed on his back, gripping tightly to his skin. The other fell flat against the couch, an open palm facing up by your shoulder.

Steve, who had been so consumed with studying the way your face screwed up as he dragged his cock in and out of you, noticed the fall of your hand. He grabbed it quickly, interlocking his fingers with yours. Steve thrust harder then, though he maintained his steady pace. His eyes locked with yours once more, labored breaths dancing in the small space between his lips and yours.

Steve ground down hard, your hips matching his rhythm as you both neared your highs. You suddenly felt shy. The press of Steve’s body to yours combined with the intensity of your locked eyes, making you glance elsewhere.

“Baby,” Steve’s breathy voice rang out, his free hand turning your face and bringing your gaze back to him. “Want you to look at me when you cum. Need to see it. Please, baby,” he begged, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering slightly, telling you that he was close.

You just nodded, leaning up a bit to kiss him. Steve savored the feel of your lips on his before you pulled back, meeting his gaze as requested. The pressure in the pit of your stomach became too much. Your hand squeezed Steve’s tightly as your face contorted in pleasure and your walls fluttered around him.

Steve watched as you hit your high, continuing his thrusts as your thighs shook and your moans of his name echoed throughout the room. He couldn’t hold on any longer, reaching his own peak with a low groan of your name. His eyes never left yours as he pumped his hot ropes of cum into you and watched you unwind.

After you’d both calmed down, breaths evening out, and chests no longer heaving, Steve gently pulled out. He kept his body on yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Then he got up, retrieving a damp washcloth to clean you both up.

The both of you redressed and resumed your previous spots on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the movie again. You tried to ignore the shift in the air, the warmth that filled your chest at the thought of what just happened.

Steve did the same, his wandering eyes glazed over as he got lost in thought about the whole ordeal. Something occurred to him then, something too important to ignore. His past few hookups hadn’t made him feel anywhere close to how good he just felt with you, how good he always felt with you.

The other girls were always too loud or too demanding or too submissive, but were they really? Steve would get hung up on some flaw while with them, no matter how big or small, and effectively throw off the whole thing for himself.

But as he sat there with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and some shitty movie playing on the screen in front of him, Steve realized that the other girls’ biggest flaw was always just that they weren’t you. And maybe Steve didn’t want no strings attached anymore. Maybe he just wanted you. And he had no clue how to tell you.

I’m still hanging around

Family Video hadn’t seen a customer for the past hour and forty-five minutes. The front counter had been wiped clean at least six times and all the tapes were put back into the system and reshelved, leaving Robin and Steve with absolutely nothing to do.

They’d resorted to taking turns trying to catch candy in their mouths when the bell sounded from above the front door. You strolled in with a furrowed brow as you watched Robin pick a stray skittle from her hair.

“Congrats on the big promotion, Steven,” you called out, approaching the counter with a wide smile. Steve’s new name tag with the words “Shift Lead” printed beneath his name shined in the store's harsh overhead lighting. Before Steve could thank you or comment on the use of his full name, Robin spoke up, effectively interrupting him.

“Thank god, someone to talk to other than this bozo,” Robin gestured to Steve who shot her a frown. “So tell me, how’d your date go last night?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows and abandoning the half-empty pack of Skittles that sat on the counter.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you going on another date with another guy, likely with some douchebag who didn’t deserve you. He took that as his cue to leave, wandering around the store to make himself look busy and avoid overhearing any talk of how soft this new guy’s lips were. Steve could still feel the pang of jealousy that lived in the pit of his stomach ever since you said that about some guy you went out with last week.

Despite his recent revelation, Steve had made no move to make his feelings known to you. He was caught in limbo between being seconds from spilling his guts to you at any given moment and refraining out of the fear of ruining your friendship. The more he heard of you going out with other guys, the more he doubted whether his feelings would be reciprocated.

“That bad?” Robin practically shouted in response to what you told her about your date, dragging Steve from his thoughts and drawing him into your conversation. He lingered near the movie shelves, just close enough to hear as you recounted the way your date more or less slobbered into your mouth when you made out.

“I had to chug half a bottle of mouthwash to feel like I wasn’t drowning in his saliva anymore,” you sighed, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the counter.

“That sucks, man,” Robin said, patting your shoulder comfortingly. The bell above the door rang out and Robin peered over your shoulder to catch a look at the customer. Robin glanced at Steve, hoping he’d help whoever just walked in, but he simply pointed over his shoulder, indicating for her to get to work. “Shit, duty calls,” she spoke quickly, rushing from behind the counter to greet the new customer.

“So,” Steve appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding behind the counter to stand where Robin previously was. “I told my parents about my promotion and they want to take me out to a nice dinner,” Steve’s gaze was drawn to the glass counter in front of him, suddenly unable to look at you.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad they’re finally recognizing your achievements,” you beamed at him, eyes scanning over his messy hair. He’d clearly been running his hands through it, nervously tugging the perfectly styled strands out of place.

“Yeah,” he started, letting out a huff of breath as he spoke. “They want you to come too,” he finally met your confused gaze. Your brows lifted and your mouth fell agape as you processed Steve’s words.

“Me? What? Why?” was all you could get out, words stuttered as your head filled with questions.

“Well, remember that time they came home early and nearly caught us in the kitchen so we played it off like we were about to make breakfast?” Steve asked, watching as your cheeks heat in embarrassment from the memory.

“The French toast incident. Yeah, I remember,” you nodded, curious about its connection to Steve’s upcoming celebratory dinner.

“Ever since then, they’ve been convinced that we’re dating. No matter how many times I’ve told them we’re not, they still think we’re together. They call you my girlfriend and everything,” Steve informed you, and it was like a light bulb went off in your head.

“The very few interactions I’ve had with them make a lot more sense now,” you stated, recalling all the times Steve’s parents asked you very girlfriend-esque questions. “Anyways, I’ll be there. Anything to support my little Stevie,” you pinched his cheek and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

Robin rounded the front counter, barreling Steve aside to ring up the customer she’d been dealing with. You took that as your indication to leave. You spun on your heels, heading back to the front door when Steve called out behind you.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Steve spoke and you just kept walking, finally stopping as you reached the door.

“See you then, Stevie,” you smiled at him, pushing open the door and walking out into the summer sun.

Steve wasn’t sure why his palms were so sweaty all of a sudden. Maybe he could blame it on the rundown air conditioner that Keith refused to replace. But he knew deep down that it was you. It was always you. His chest filled with butterflies at the thought of taking you out on a real date, despite the annoying addition of his parents. He’d treat you better than any of the other guys had before. He’d make you want to be his in the same way that he wanted to be yours, that he was sure of.

I know what you tell your friends

Steve picked you up right when he said he would, watching as you descended your driveway in a sundress. He couldn’t help the silent gasp that fell from his lips, so taken aback by your beauty. The passenger door swung open and you slid into the seat, meeting Steve’s admiring gaze with a smile.

“Ready, boyfriend?” you teased, leaning into the role that Steve’s parents expected you to play. Steve could’ve sworn that his heart stopped as the word fell from your lips. He hadn’t known until then how much he wanted to hear you call him that.

“You bet, girlfriend,” he snapped himself out of his stupor and finally responded, driving off in the direction of the restaurant.

Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, their delicate wings swarming deep within you. Things had been different with Steve recently but you weren’t sure why. His longing stares and flushed cheeks raised feelings from deep within that you were unable to identify, pushing them aside for the sake of your friendship.

The restaurant came into view and you noticed the nervous tap of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When the car came to a stop you took hold of his hand, wrapping his palm with yours and easing the worries that plagued him.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” you spoke softly, comfortingly. Steve’s eyes softened, his head nodding as his nerves melted away at the tingle of his hand enveloped in yours.

The restaurant was packed when you entered, your hand still interlocked with Steve’s. It didn’t take long to find Steve’s parents though, all you had to do was follow the sound of a woman complaining that her ice water had too much ice.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” Steve greeted his parents, pulling their attention to the two of you standing on the opposite side of the table. Steve’s parents were not the touchy kind, opting for a simple nod of their head in greeting rather than a handshake or hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear,” Mrs. Harrington addressed you, a plastic smile upturning the corners of her lips. The conversation continued, Steve’s parents pestering you both with questions.

“Steve tells me that you’re in school?” Mr. Harrington questioned, his gaze peering at you through the thick lenses of his glasses. You were taken aback by his question, not expecting him to know much about you. Steve had talked about you to his parents? He’d told them about you and your personal life?

“Yes, I am. I’m enrolled at the community college for now but I plan to transfer to a state school once I get my associate's degree,” you did your best to remain calm under the intense gaze of Steve’s parents, though the foundations of your cool facade were beginning to crack. Steve noticed the panic that creased your brow, taking it upon himself to clutch your hand in his under the table. Relief flooded you instantly, calmed by the warm caress of Steve’s skin on yours.

“That’s a good plan,” Mr. Harrington spoke again, turning his gaze from you to his son. “Seems much better than working at a video store with no thought of the future,” his face remained straight as he insulted Steve as if it were second nature by now.

Steve’s admiring smile, the one that stretched his lips at his father’s approval of your current path, faltered at the harsh words directed his way. Your hand squeezed Steve’s, reminding him that you were still there, that the insensitive words of the man before him didn’t matter.

“Dad,” Steve started but was quickly silenced by the raise of his father’s hand. It was like watching a dog following its owner’s command to sit. Steve was well trained by now, knowing when to be quiet, but you weren’t.

“With all due respect Mr. Harrington, Steve has worked his ass off at Family Video,” you defended, ignoring the gasp that came from Mrs. Harrington at your use of profanity. “Steve earned his promotion through hard work and dedication, two principles that I thought a businessman like yourself would greatly value,” you continued, your hand still clasped against Steve’s as your rage boiled over.

“Well, yes but-” Mr. Harrington began but you interrupted him before he could continue.

“Maybe it’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but Steve is learning valuable skills that can easily translate to other jobs later on,” you stated while Steve’s parents sat dumbfounded across from you, not used to being talked back to. “It's a shame you can’t see how wonderful and compassionate your son is. You should be proud of the man he’s becoming. I know I am,” your eyes roamed the dropped jaws of Steve’s parents and held back a smile at their shocked expressions.

You turned to Steve then, his gaze securely fastened on you. A smirk danced on his lips as he admired the crease in your forehead and the angry pinch of your brows. He watched as your expression unraveled, softening as your eyes landed on him.

Steve was speechless, stunned by your fierce loyalty on his behalf. He wanted to kiss you so badly, crush his lips to yours in a way that left a bruise by the time you pulled away for air. But he held himself back, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to freshen up in the restroom,” you gently pulled your hand from Steve’s, pushing your chair back and knocking some silverware off the table in the process. Steve watched as you walked away, encapsulated by the sway of your hips and the skin exposed by the movement of your dress with each step.

“I’ll go get some clean silverware,” Steve leaned down, picking up the utensils that littered the ground. He then quickly followed in your direction, leaving his still-shocked parents alone at the table. He approached the bathroom, a single-user restroom, and knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” you called out through the door, barely heard over the conversations and soft music that filled the restaurant.

“It’s me,” Steve said into the door, hoping not to attract too much attention from the tables nearby. The lock turned quickly, allowing Steve to push the door open and step into the small bathroom with you.

He clicked the lock back into place before turning to face you. His eyes read yours, receiving their open invitation, so he grasped your face, pulling it to meet his. Steve kissed you in the way he desired to only minutes before, with a rough clash of teeth and tongues that left you breathless.

“That was so fucking hot,” he spoke into your lips, one hand caressing your cheek as the other trailed down to your exposed legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs.

��Steve,” you tried to break free from his kiss, but his lips followed yours. “Your parents are still at the table,” you reminded him, knowing that he intended to do far more than just kiss you.

“We’ll just have to be quick then,” his lips caressed yours again, his hand moving inwards, meeting the seam of your panties. You were conflicted, worry washing over you at the possibility of being caught. But Steve’s touch momentarily quelled the burning heat that bloomed between your legs.

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, tracing the outline of your folds, swiping at the dampness that began to form. He swiftly pulled your panties down, helping you step out of them before shoving them into his back pocket. Steve leaned you over the sink, unzipping his pants and slipping his hardened cock from the confines of the material.

You watched him through the mirror in front of you, his hands stroking his cock before lining it up with your entrance. He eased in, slipping in inch by inch before bottoming out. A moan slipped past his lips as he quickly pulled out and thrust back in, giving you little time to adjust.

His thrusts were harsh and rough, knocking you forward with each motion. Your elbows that propped you up slid against the sink’s smooth countertop, bringing you closer and closer to the mirror with each movement. But Steve didn’t let up, forcefully pounding his cock into your core as he whimpered above you.

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his hands holding your hips in place. “It’s like your pussy was made for me. Squeezing me so good,” he didn’t let up, fucking you desperately, like he’d never get to do it again.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, suppressing your moans, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the restaurant.

“So close, baby,” Steve leaned down, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders while maintaining his fierce pace. Your high was building along with Steve’s as he brushed a spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Steve spoke suddenly, catching you off guard as he spilled into you. Steve’s thrusts faltered as he pumped his cum deep within your folds. “All mine. Want you to be all mine,” he whispered into your skin, slumping against your folded body. It took a moment before he stood up straight again, regaining his composure and tucking his cock back into his pants.

You stood up with him, wide eyes watching him from the mirror. He fixed his disheveled hair, not noticing the shocked expression that you wore. You hadn’t cum, hadn’t had enough time for your orgasm to fully build before Steve spilled his seed into you. You also couldn’t ignore the words he muttered against you. Words that spoke of a relationship, something more. The same words that Steve seemed to be completely oblivious to having said.

“You okay?” Steve asked, finally noticing your worried look. You nodded, observing the boy who seemed to have unknowingly confessed his desires to you. “I’ll leave you to freshen up. I gotta go get more silverware,” he pulled the dirty silverware from his pocket that didn’t have your panties before opening the door and leaving you pantyless, alone in the bathroom with frazzled thoughts and his cum leaking down your thigh.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, locking the door once more and cleaning yourself up. Did Steve want to be with you? Did he want to have you in the way you secretly hoped?

Your thoughts still raced as you exited the restroom, weaving through tables to get back to where you previously sat. But something caught your attention, or more like someone. Steve stood with a waiter, some guy you recognized from high school but couldn’t quite name off the top of your head.

“Are you two dating? Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve finally got tied down,” the unnamed waiter said, earning a grin from Steve. You were curious to know his answer, to hear what he said about you when you weren’t around.

“Nah, man. She’s just some girl that lets me fuck her on my couch,” Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The color drained from your face, breath exhaled shakily as tears welled in your eyes. His response was a far cry from what he’d whispered as he came inside you just moments ago.

Your feet carried you away, stumbling back to the table to avoid being seen by Steve. You plopped into your chair, meeting the skittish gazes of Steve’s parents. Their expressions reminded you of your words from before, how you defended Steve, how very wrong you may have been.

Steve appeared a minute later clutching a new set of silverware and spewing an apology for how long it took. He placed the silverware in front of you, replacing your soiled set. His hand came to rest on your thigh and you couldn’t help the way you flinched at his touch. It was as if he was a completely different person to you now.

Conversation resumed, Steve easing the tension at the table and re-engaging with his parents. You chimed in when needed, staying silent otherwise, consumed by thought. Steve’s parents had warmed up to you again by the end of the meal, despite how shutdown you had become.

“Steve should bring you to our house in Long Beach sometime. It’s gorgeous this time of year,” Mrs. Harrington suggested and you forced on a fake smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, as you nodded. You and Steve thanked his parents for dinner before heading back to Steve’s car.

The drive back to your house was quiet, your eyes peering through the window, gazing at the passing scenery, doing anything to keep from looking at the boy next to you. Steve came to a stop in front of your driveway and you immediately opened the door, stumbling out and starting the walk to your front door.

“What are you doing?” Steve called after you, exiting his car and following behind you.

“Going into my house,” you said, not bothering to turn around or stop, continuing your trek to the door.

“No kiss? No goodbye?” Steve questioned, finally reaching you at your doorstep. You had been fumbling with your keys, struggling to unlock the door. Steve’s hand landed on your shoulder and you snapped, abandoning your keys in the lock and whipping around to face him.

“Why does it matter? I’m just some girl that lets you fuck her on your couch, right? So why do you care?” anger spilled out of you with each syllable, causing Steve to pull back, his foot falling down a step, letting you tower over him. “Yeah, I heard you, asshole,” your words spewed from your lips as Steve’s mouth opened, silently fumbling for words.

“I didn’t-” Steve began before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to worry about people thinking you’re tied down anymore, King Steve,” you turned back to your front door, finally managing to get it unlocked. You took a step inside while Steve still stood on the doorstep. “Maybe you can find some other girl to fuck around with instead,” you slammed the door shut, sinking against it and falling to the ground as the tears you held in finally leaked down your cheeks. You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it. But the hurt and anger tore you apart as you sobbed into your hands.

Steve stood still on your doorstep, his feet rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door. He loved you, he knew that for sure. As his glassy eyes traced the spot where you just stood, he felt his heart crack and shatter, its pieces filling the pit of his stomach with enough force to make bile rise in his throat. Steve knew he loved you, and unfortunately, he knew that he also just lost you.

Someone you couldn’t lose

“I really would rather just go back home. Why do you even need me for this?” you asked Eddie, his arm interlocked with yours, dragging you forward. He continued his steady pace, not letting up despite your dragging feet that weighed him down.

“Because you haven’t done anything but cry for the past few days. You need to leave your cave of solitude,” Eddie’s breath was a bit labored as he led you to the entrance of The Hideout. “Plus Gareth canceled on me and I didn’t want to go by myself,” Eddie added, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“Why couldn’t you take Robin or, I don’t know, literally anyone else?” you asked while Eddie guided you through the bar. The bar was practically empty, the crowd even smaller than when Corroded Coffin usually plays. God, the band playing tonight must suck.

“Because I enjoy your company, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. A smile that you met with a glare. “And Robin is busy with Steve tonight,” he revealed his true reason for inviting you.

In another universe, a less complicated one, you would be mad at Eddie for being his last-resort concert buddy. But in this universe, the one where you and Steve were interlinked in an ever-so-tangled web, your heart stopped at the mention of his name.

Steve’s crude words played through your head like a bad earworm, momentarily overtaking your thoughts as your face faltered. Eddie watched the quiver of your lip and crease in your brow. He ached at the thought of your sadness, wanting to alleviate any trace of it, which is why he brought you to The Hideout, but not for the reason that you might think.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Eddie put his hand on your back ushering you towards the nearly empty bar. For once today, he didn’t have to drag you, your feet willingly trailing along behind him at the thought of alcohol. Eddie plopped down on a stool ordering you both a drink while you slid in beside him.

The drinks were quickly made and paid for, leaving the two of you to sip away in silence. Your gaze drifted around the bar, curiously eyeing its patrons. Something didn’t seem right as you scanned the stage set up on the side of the room.

“Eddie,” you took a sip of your drink, focus shifting back to the boy next to you. “If there’s a show tonight then why is it so empty in here?” the question left your lips and Eddie’s nervous stare landed on the wood surface of the bar below.

The front door slammed open, saving Eddie from your question. Your head whipped around at the sound of the door in combination with the hushed voices that filled the room. Steve and Robin. They were arguing about something, but you couldn’t hear them. The sounds that encompassed the bar slipped away, leaving your ears ringing in the stark silence.

Watery eyes gazed upon the boy across the bar that was too enveloped in his conversation to look up. Eddie cleared his throat beside you, but your eyes didn’t leave Steve, roaming over his wild hair and disheveled clothes. Eddie may not have been able to get your attention, but he did get Steve’s, drawing his awareness until his eyes landed on you.

Steve froze in place, his pink lips parting in surprise as he traced your features. His heart ached at the distance between you, both metaphorical and physical. You couldn’t help but feel the same as you got down from your stool, feet pulling you closer.

Steve met you halfway, stopping in the middle of the room, uncaring of the questioning looks you both attracted in the process. Words were lost on the tip of your tongue, incapable of leaving your lips.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Steve spoke breathlessly, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Robin dragged me here, but I can leave if you want,” Steve offered, but you quickly found yourself shaking your head.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice small like a child who’d just been scolded. Steve nodded quickly, taking no time to think over your suggestion. He didn’t need to, all he could think about for the past few days was how badly he wanted to talk to you. The ache in his chest only grew more painful with each passing day of silence.

With his hand grasped in yours, you led Steve out the side door to an alleyway next to The Hideout. Your hand tingled at the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed gently against yours. Reluctantly, you dropped his hand, leaning against the building as Steve’s wandering gaze studied you nervously. He wasn’t sure whether you wanted to speak first or not, but he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, succumbing to his urge to expel an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that about you,” Steve spewed out, his words desperate and pleading, frown lines etched deep into his skin.

“Is that really how you feel about me? That I’m just some girl?” you asked, voice quiet and broken, stifled by the tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, embarrassed to sound so small, so reliant on his opinion of you.

“No, absolutely not,” Steve shook his head immediately, stepping closer to you. “I just- I’ve been feeling a certain way about you lately, but I didn’t want to scare you. So I downplayed it, tried to make it seem like it was nothing to that guy from high school, but it is something,” Steve confessed, scanning your face for any hint of what you were thinking. He couldn’t find what he was looking for in your avoidant stare and his shoulders deflated.

A cool summer breeze whispered in the space between your bodies, bringing a chill to your skin as you thought over Steve’s words. You could feel the way his eyes searched you, pleading for a sign, but you didn’t budge, not when you didn’t have the answer you were looking for yet.

“And how exactly have you been feeling about me lately?” you finally look up, meeting Steve’s desperate stare. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as he mulled over his next words. You were giving him a shot, a chance to lay it all out on the line. Steve just had to be smart enough, brave enough, to take it.

“Like I love you,” Steve asserted with shaky hands, carefully watching you for a reaction. The breath in your lungs fled, your eyes widening a bit and then softening in sweet admiration while the corner of your lips ticked upwards ever so slightly, which only encouraged Steve to continue. “Like I want to be with you all the time, not just late at night or when neither of us can get laid. I want you to be mine and for me to be yours,” his feet carried him closer to you, his spearmint and cigarette scented breath fanning warmly across your face. “Do you want that too?” he asked, his confidence dwindling by the second, making his voice as small as yours had been earlier.

His eyes darted back and forth tracing your soft skin, your lengthy eyelashes, and your plush lips. Steve was dying for your answer, just on the brink of falling to his knees and begging, but if there was even the slightest possibility that you were to reject him then he wanted to savor this moment beforehand. The calm before the storm.

He wanted to memorize the curve of your cheeks, every beauty mark or scar expanding across your skin, the way the moonlight illuminated your face in the dark of the night. Steve decided he could wait forever for you to speak your next syllable as long as he got to stay in this moment and simply be with you. But despite his desire to freeze time, your mouth opened, effectively sealing Steve’s potential fate with you.

“Yes,” your answer came out breathlessly like you had just finished running a marathon, and based on how fast your heart was pounding in your chest, you might as well have. Steve exhaled in a smile, his tongue wetting his lips once more. He wanted nothing more than to caress your supple skin and kiss you. So he did.

Steve wrapped you in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and searched your face for reassurance. When he found what he was looking for, Steve dived in, pressing his lips to yours. It was far from the first time you’d kissed, but something felt different this time. It was years of buried feelings finally clawing their way to the surface and announcing that they were here to stay. You pulled away with a smile and your forehead pressed to his.

“You know,” Steve spoke, words just above a whisper as he attempted to catch his breath. “Now that I think about it, there’s no way we coincidentally ended up in the same place at the same time,” he finished, arching a brow at you, hoping you’d understand what he was implying.

“Eddie and Robin definitely set this up,” you caught on to his train of thought.

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. He should be mad, he really should be. His friends had no right to meddle in his love life like this. But how could he be upset when he had you cradled in his arms and your chapstick smeared across his lips?

“I hate them,” you voiced, clearly unserious in your statement.

“I don’t,” Steve peered down at you, catching the reflection of the crescent moon in your eyes. “They brought me back to you,” he shrugged with a smile and you couldn't help but mirror him before closing the space between you with another kiss.

After a few more shared smiles and soft kisses, you and Steve decided to go back into the bar. It was just as empty as it had been before, further proving to you that Eddie lied in order to get you and Steve together. Steve’s hand was clasped around yours as you walked further in, spotting Eddie and Robin sitting across from one another in a booth.

“Follow my lead,” you whispered as the pair finally saw the two of you approaching. Wide smiles stretched their lips at the sight of you hand in hand.

“So Eddie, when’s this band coming on?” you asked, coming to a stop at the end of the booth. Eddie’s eyes widened at your question, having expected you to forget about how he got you to The Hideout under false pretenses, especially given the fact that you’d made up with Steve.

“There, uh, isn’t one for tonight,” Eddie stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights at the arch of your brow.

“Oh,” you did your best to look taken aback like this wasn’t the answer you had expected. “So you lied?” you questioned, your tone expressing more confusion rather than anger, which only made Eddie more nervous. His mouth hung agape while Steve and Robin stifled their giggles and smirks.

“How about I get everyone a drink?” Eddie stood up quickly, looking for an escape. “Steve? Wanna help?” Eddie backed away from you and headed towards the bar. Steve released his hand from yours, shaking his head with a smile as he followed behind.

You slid into Eddie’s vacated seat, across from Robin. She still had a smirk etched into her face when your gazes met.

“Don't think you’re off the hook too,” you stated and her smirk fell almost comically. Your gaze drifted from her to the bar, landing on Steve. He was already facing you with a warm smile.

“I love you,” he mouthed to you, and you felt your breath catch again. It was something you’d have to get used to. After so long of denying your feelings and the insistence to stay casual, it would be a big change. But it was a change you were more than happy to accommodate.

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, and you really did mean it.

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iliadeleart · 1 year

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Caleb Widogast, Wizard of Embers 🔥

And with Caleb widogast complete, the first codex trio is done! These were a great exercise in composition, storytelling, and the historically inspired style is a dopamine rush, I love painting it so much. Also made me realise I should practice painting more estreme expressions, and also animals are SUCH a blast to draw! always learn

#my art #critical role #critical role fanart #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #essek thelyss #the mighty nein

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 21

part 1 | part 20 | ao3

“Right?” Steve asks, scratching his head as he glances back at the door.

“No, I meant you, dingus! What the fuck was that with you?”

Steve feels his face go hot. “What? What do you mean?”

She throws her hands in the air, stomping over so she can get in his face and say, “Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. Your faces” —she lifts her hands like she’s about to applaud, palms hovering an inch apart— “were like thiiis close to just…”

She claps them together, and Steve feels the blood drain right back out of his face, dread pooling in his gut as she twists her palms this way and that, like two people tilting their heads to kiss deeper. Oh, god. Oh, god. Were they—?

“Mwah,” Robin says helpfully, mashing her hands more tightly together. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah—”

Steve grabs her by the wrist. “Dude. Stop.”

She drops her hands and stares at him — one of those Detective Buckley looks, combing over every inch of his soul for missed clues — and then her mouth does some horribly self-satisfied thing that he hates. “If I didn’t know any better,” she draws, “I’d say someone has a crush.”

I’d say someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a

Steve’s gonna pass out. The words feel like bile in his brain, acidic and sharp; like puking right after chugging a glass of orange juice. It’s not like he’s—

Look, he knows that he’s— but—

The bell dings. Thank fucking Christ. A big family group, three generations of people talking and laughing and fussing over a baby in a stroller and carrying leftovers from the Italian place down the strip.

Steve sags in relief.

Robin hisses in his ear, “We are so not done talking about this.”

—

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

About Eddie, about the word Robin lobbed at him like a lit bottle rocket, about any of it.

Just thinking about it is giving him a stomach ulcer and a migraine and maybe an aneurysm, too.

He was hoping he made that obvious enough during the last hour of their shift that Robin would just drop it, but that girl has never dropped a single thing in her life. Worse than Nancy, the little bloodhound. Steve saw this documentary once about crocodiles; remembers how they can lock their jaws shut after clamping down on their prey with up to 4000 PSI of pressure.

That’s enough pressure to cut a person’s arm off with a jet of water.

Damn, nature’s cool.

“Steve!”

You know who’s not cool?

“Steve!” Robin hollers again over the song he’s currently blasting to drown her out on the drive home. “Steve, you can’t use ABBA against me like this!”

Steve ignores her protests, responds by shout-singing “DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN, OOH OOOOOH” at her in his most nasal falsetto because he absolutely can and will use ABBA against her like this, and it works like a charm. He’s pretty sure this song has, like, hypnotic power over her or something, because every time without fail she gives the answering “ooh-oo-oo-ooh-ooh-oooooh” as if on auto-pilot.

“HEY!” she shouts when she realizes what she’s doing. “No sir!” She reaches over and mashes the volume button.

Silence falls over the car. Sucks the air out of Steve’s lungs in the sudden void; his ears adjust slowly, picking up the quiet thrum of the engine, the whispered whoosh of the wind outside. Is he ever going to get used to being kind-of-sort-of-deaf? This shit sucks.

“...Okay, look,” Robin says tentatively. She’s staring at the side of his head, and he keeps his eyes on the road; tightens his grip on the wheel. “We don’t have to talk about you, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about with me.”

“Right!” she rushes to agree. Playing along like they don’t both know that’s bullshit. “Totally.”

Steve risks a glance at her. Her expression is earnest, some full-paragraph silent communication like: whatever bathroom-floor-confessional crisis you’re having, we can leave it alone for now. We can let it stay hidden in the dark corners for a little longer; I promise I’ll put my flashlight down.

“Totally,” Steve echoes, nodding at her.

“Okay. Cool. Cool…”

She lets out a long breath, cheeks puffing out as she sits on her hands. Oh, my god, just spit it out. “Can we please talk about him, though?”

—

part 22

tag list pt. 1 below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow (heads up i'm not tagging any new under 21 or ageless blogs unless we’re mutuals or you dm me to verify your age. gonna purge this list when i get some free time)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #robin buckley #platonic stobin

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httpiastri · 7 months

Text

dating paul would include... ᰔᩚ

traveling during the breaks

obviously, if you date paul, you have to go on vacations with him. we've all seen his vacation pics from the summer (and winter) breaks, the pink swimming trunks and the linen shirts showing off his chest and shoulder muscles so beautifully. but not only are vacations with him great because you have the world's best piece of eye candy with you; you'd also have a blast with him.

going on vacation with paul means traveling around italy on a vespa, him driving you around as your arms are wrapped around his torso. the way your grip tightens and the sound of your squeals when he speeds up makes him bubbly, and if he feels stable enough, he places one of his hands on top of yours as he drives, fingers intertwining with yours.

it means you both deciding that your personal mission on the trip is to find the best pizza and pasta in the country, traveling around to different cities to experience and rank the restaurants with the highest ratings on the internet. it means midnight pizza runs to that place in the city that's open 24/7, forcing paul to taste the hawaiian slice you ordered despite how much he whines about pineapple not belonging on pizza. and it means visits to romantic little restaurants, not being able to say no to him when he suggests doing the 'lady and the tramp'-move with the spaghetti, both of you giggling until you're almost thrown out after accidentally bumping noses.

it means spending a lot of time at the beach, going swimming and sunbathing and just relaxing together. you cheer him on when he does his flips from cliffs and bridges, mostly watching from afar, but he always finds some way to trick you into coming up to the cliff with him – and then he always pulls you in with him. but you also go to the beach at night, walking barefoot along the shoreline and feeling the warm sand between your toes. you look at the stars together, his hand on your waist squeezing you close to him and his fingers drawing random figures into your skin as you point out the constellations to him. his lips pressing against your forehead as he hums, nodding along to whatever you're saying, is a confirmation that he's listening – even when he's more focused on your pretty lips and soft skin.

taking care of you

paul is very caring. he often comes off as cool and casual to other people, but the soft spot in his heart for you makes paul act a bit differently with you. whenever he's around you, he wants to make sure you know that you're the most important thing to him. he listens well, gives you advice when you come to him with issues, and he takes care of you in every way he can think of.

he's attentive, and after having known you for many years now, he knows what every subtle little sign of yours means. he can tell when you're only pretending to be happy, when you're uncomfortable, when you need something; he can read you like an open book. therefore, it doesn't come as a big surprise when he notices how quickly you're getting drunk on one night out.

it starts off lightly, with you sipping slowly on some kind of fruity drink while chatting off with dino's girlfriend, growing more relaxed for every passing minute. paul notices instantly, but he lets it slide – you're in a club, after all, and you're all there to drink. the drinks turn into shots, and the chats turn into showing off your moves on the dance floor, while paul merely sits at your table and watches you with a big grin on his face. through the night, he keeps ordering glasses of water that he helps you down in-between your drinks. but despite his services, it doesn't take too long before you get a little too 'tipsy', walking up to him with wobbly legs and such a soft expression on your face.

"paulie!" you exclaim as you come up to stand next to where he's sitting. he notices instantly – you only call him that when you're drunk. "did you see my moves?"

paul nods, a little smile taking over his lips. "you were great." one of his hands reach up to your waist, pulling you a little closer. "how are you feeling?"

"lovely!" you turn your head to the side, looking out on the dance floor again. "i think i'm going to go back, it's so much fun, you should come with me, we can dance and-"

the sound of a chuckle leaving his mouth makes you stop in your ramble, eyes darting back at him instantly. "i think we should go now, actually."

"go where?"

"to your apartment. or mine, or-"

"why?"

paul shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. "because you're drunk, sweetheart."

you frown – you're having so much fun, why leave now? "that makes no sense."

"maybe it does, maybe it doesn't." paul places his other hand on your waist too, and his hands squeeze your sides. "let me take you home and take care of you. please?"

you cross your arms over your chest, huffing. "what's in it for me?"

"well," he snickers. "i'll give you as many kisses as you want. and i'll help you with your skincare." the way his fingers dance up and down your ribs tickles, and the tingling sensation is so immense you can't hold back a smile. "i'll even massage your feet, since they must be dead after dancing so much in those shoes."

you can't hold up the sulky act anymore, so you take his hands in yours and nod. "only if you give me a kiss now, too. just so i know what i can expect."

a laugh bubbles from his chest as he stares at you in complete adoration. he lets you pull him up so he's standing, before he engulfs your face in his hands and gives you a sweet smooch.

paul is a good man, so he keeps his promises. when you fall asleep in the cab, all worn out from dancing, he carries you carefully up to his apartment and makes sure not to wake you up, before tucking you in between the sheets. he gets a makeup wipe from the bathroom – it's better than nothing, he thinks – trying his best to be as detailed in his cleaning yet not rough enough to wake you up. he massages your feet for a few minutes, hoping that it'll make some difference in the morning. and even if you're not conscious enough to remember it, he does give you tons of kisses. on your forehead, your cheeks, your temple, the corner of your lips.

paul is a caring, lovestruck fool, and his soft heart beats only for you.

race rituals

surprisingly enough, paul likes to be structured and have the same schedule & rituals before a race. he may seem like someone who doesn't care, someone who's extremely easy-going, but it's the rituals before he even gets to the track that let him be carefree.

on media days and the fridays of the weekends, a lot of people assume he's got a devil-may-care kind of attitude. he's often spotted joking around with dino, throwing american footballs with karl, or just chilling on the floor of the prema truck. on the earlier parts of the week, he eases up – but the moment he sits down in the car before quali on friday, he switches his focus. he's completely and fully zoned in for the racing.

when he's done with qualifying, the first thing he needs is to have his debrief with his trainers. depending on the result of the session, the debrief can be lighthearted or serious, but the driving always needs to be discussed. then he needs to confirm tomorrow's schedule, to make sure it's all set and ready to go. and lastly, he needs to talk to you.

you always find some secluded corner of the paddock, sitting together on the floor with one of his arms draped around your shoulders. you don't need to talk about the qualifying itself; if it's gone badly, he'll ask you what you've done all day, what you had for lunch, and which drivers you've seen around the paddock. but if it's gone well, he won't shut up about it. he'll tell you about all of the corners he got the most out of, what parts of the track he could've improved in, and how he felt when his trainers praised him on the radio. all this while you're holding his free hand, playing with his fingers and resting your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeats all the way in to your own heart.

he has a routine for the mornings before races, too. they all start in the hotel room after he wakes up. first, he brushes his teeth. then, he needs to make sure all of his necessities are packed; race suit, shoes, gloves, anything else he might need. then, he always has the same breakfast.

all steps of his routine are important, but his most important ritual is the one that includes you.

the one thing he needs the most right before he leaves through the hotel room door is a hug from you. he needs you to hold him tight, press your lips to his cheek, and whisper to him that he'll do well. he needs you to assure him that no matter what, you're there for him and you believe in him. with your trust, he can do anything.

post-season comfort

paul desperately needed encouragement.

after spa, and especially after the season finale in monza, things felt extra rough for him. it was hard for him to recover from the fact that everything had slipped through his fingers. sure, he put on a big smile when congratulating gabriel and zak for p1 and p2 in the championship, and he was genuinely happy that prema won the teams championship. but he couldn't help but to feel... sour. he believed that he deserved that win, or at least the second place. if only he hadn't been so unlucky...

you see right through him, of course. no matter how hard he pretends that he's fine, that it doesn't matter and that he's fine with third place in the championship, you don't believe it. you know him, and you'd do anything to help take his mind off things, to get him to stop overthinking it.

post-season means a lot of sessions in the gym and even more time spent on the sim, preparing for everything that's to come and trying to work on the weaknesses that showed this past season. it's very physically demanding, and in combination with the disappointment from his championship standings, it leaves him exhausted most of the time.

but whenever he's free, you see it as your duty to take him away from it all. the stress, the racing, the pressure. you know that deep down, he does love it; racing is his life for a reason. but you also see how worn out he is, how his smile doesn't really meet his eyes anymore, how persistent the bags under his eyes are. sometimes, the emotions can be too much, and you love to help him out even just a little.

so, every day off, you plan something for him. you go rock climbing, swimming, stargazing. you go on road trips to nearby cities, sightseeing and pretending to be tourists even in areas you've been to hundreds of times. you drag him along to the spa to get massages and to just relax, and he ends up being the one who refuses to leave, despite how he groaned about not wanting to go beforehand. you even take him to race in go-karts, to show him that racing still can be fun and that it doesn't always need to be super competitive (because you threaten him and say that if he speeds away from you in the first straight, there's no way he's getting any kisses, so he has to pretend like he's slow).

it's not like paul doesn't understand what you're doing; he's fully aware of your plans, and he finds them completely adorable. one night, as you're about to part after a romantic dinner date, he stops you on your porch just as you're about to go into your home.

he wraps you in his arms, hugging you close as a deep sigh leaves his chest. he relaxes, his whole body just melting into you as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck. "thank you," he whispers, his words tickling your skin and his lips brushing the space behind the back of your ear. "i really needed this."

maybe you're reading too much into it, but you know there's so much hiding behind those words. it's not often that he opens up about racing, so you're grateful for every little moment of it, even if it's minimal. "you deserve the world", you tell him, because it’s true. to you, he’s the most precious thing in the world. and by the way he smiles at you, eyes filled with so much gratitude and so much love, you can tell he feels the same way about you.

oscar piastri version ll ollie bearman version ll f2/f3 masterlist

author's note: very long overdue lol. just like the oscar smut rotting away in my drafts. anyway, i miss paul so much it hurts. looking at old gifs of him and just crying. hope u have a good day too <3

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luveline · 1 year

Note

thought of a cute eddie and roan request!! since it’s almost summer time they go to the pool or beach?? roans having a blast

thank you!! dad!eddie takes you and his baby for a trip to the beach (lake)!! this is when they haven't been together as long and roan is younger!! dad eddie x fem!reader ♥︎ 3k

Eddie's daughter is nearly five years old, about 3ft 5in, and weighs less than fifty pounds. She has slightly chubby cheeks, a huge smile, and she has never been this excited in her life.

"I swear I've taken her on vacation before," Eddie says, his eyes moving between the road, the side of your face, and Roan's joyous expression in the rear view mirror almost frantically.

You push your sunglasses up your nose. "I believe you. I've seen the photos, Edward."

He snorts. "You know that's not my name."

"But it makes derision much funnier to call you something formal."

"You usually go with Munson."

"I'm feeling festive today, it's such a good day."

Roan agrees from the back with a small shout.

You turn in your seat before Eddie can, eyes creased with affection when you see her again. Roan is in her best summer dress with her hair braided back out of her face, ending before her ears so her curls can take centre stage. She's got her delicate blue cardigan on, and a sandwich in her hands. You've been trying to break the long drive into smaller bits for her with snacks and songs, and it's worked thus far.

"Do you want another sandwich, baby?" you ask, clicking open the the tupperware in your lap. "We've only got PB and J left, Eds. Can I give her that? I don't wanna ruin her dress."

"If she wants it," he says, shrugging. His expression is cut short as he turns the wheel sharply to the side. "Woah! Sorry, ladies, I almost missed the turn. What a loser."

You tear Roan's sandwich into a smaller one and hand it back through the seats. "Try not to get it on your dress, princess, it's so pretty," you plead.

"I won't," she says. As soon as you hand her the sandwich she drops it on her skirts. She's just old enough to understand what's happened, and giggles like she thinks she's about to be told off.

You've seen Eddie do it enough times. Roan drops a crust or spills a drink and Eddie pretends to be cross, eyebrows drawn together in an unconvincing glare. "Roan," he always says, and if he can reach he chucks her under the chin with his knuckle, "how dare you. You know accidents aren't allowed."

It warms your heart that her reaction to a potential chastisement is laughter.

Roan has firmly passed baby stage: she doesn't look like a big baby, she looks like a very small child, with deceptively long arms and legs. She waves one leg toward you and says in her high-pitched, sometimes illegible voice, "My shoe's coming off."

Her shoe isn't coming off, but the buckle around her ankle has come undone.

"Oh no," you dote, leaning through the two front seats of Eddie's car to help. "What happened? You're too happy, babe, all your dancing must've wiggled the buckle free."

"I'm too happy," she agrees, "we're going to the beach now."

"We're nearly there," Eddie says.

Indiana Beach is an amusement park on Lake Shafer ninety miles away from Indianapolis, which is a good eighty miles from Hawkins. If you were to draw this journey on a map, it would look like the hands of a clock at three thirty, or a 'Y' without one of its eyes. With Eddie's cautious driving but not much traffic, it had taken you guys nearly three hours from the time you set off from his trailer at seven in the morning to now. It's an aching amount of time to confine a child, and Roan hasn't slept a wink, so her happy attitude is miraculous and perhaps precarious.

Which is to say, you smother her in love and hope it will keep her from becoming too agitated. You and Eddie have already discussed the possibilities of her behaviour — if she started a screaming crying tantrum as she sometimes does, Eddie would pull over and you'd climb in the back. If your company didn't help, he'd pull over again and you'd take a break wherever you were. If she still didn't improve, you'd think about going home. The point of the trip is for Roan to have fun.

You can see the Galaxi from a mile away, a huge curling roller coaster on the Indiana Beach pier. Eddie starts grinning, really smiling, the kind you don't get to see very often. He smiled like that when he asked you to be his girlfriend outside of the Hawk movie theatre, and he smiled worse when you told him you loved him for the first time, your hand pressed against his chest and your face hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Ro!" he says loudly, turning onto a side street in search of the parking lot, "look, baby! Can you see the lake? The beach? It's so sunny, oh my goodness."

His hand reaches across for you. He squeezes your leg roughly, and it aches in the best way, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your thigh. You can't help laughing, pleasantly startled by his obvious joy.

Roan starts talking and you're sorry but you're not an expert in her warbling yet, not when she's speaking a mile a minute. You catch "beach," and "sunshine," and "daddy!" but that's about it.

He drives into a ticket parking lot a fifteen minute walk from the pier and finds a space with ease. You quickly undo your belt and get out, stretching your arms behind your back and leaning forward to roll your neck out. You're sore from all the back and forth, attention split between Eddie and Roan for the last three hours.

Eddie gets out on the other side, and he should get Roan's stroller first, but it was never going to happen. He opens Roan's door and the excited stream of chatter increases between the both of them. You come around the back of the car and watch him pull her out of her car seat, fussing over her skirts and her hair and her tiny shoes. He makes one of those heaving dad groans when he picks her up, one arm skewed under her butt and the other behind her back. It's more hug than carry.

"Hey, baby," he says, "how's that? Is it nice to be out of the car?" His hand moves to her legs. "Should we do some walking and stretching?"

He rubs her legs.

"Daddy, it's sunny, it's like– like with Uncle Wayne, when'd he says that the sunshine is out to play," she says, her hands moving from her chest and into the air above her head like a burst. "It's not messing around!"

You laugh, your heart melted to a wet goo. Eddie gives you an eyeful, as if to say, Yeah, I made her, that's my kid, and I know she's the cutest thing on God's green earth, thank you very much for noticing.

"It's not," he agrees, putting her down on the ground. You stand a little ways away, knowing she won't run into traffic but worried anyhow.

Eddie holds one of her hands and Roan puts the other one back in the air, stretching up big and tall. Eddie strokes a hair behind her ear, and his thumb lingers affectionately on her cheek.

"Will you wear your hat?" he asks.

"Do you have a hat?"

"Uh, no, daddy doesn't have one," he says.

"But I do!" you butt in.

They turn to look at you. You open the trunk, digging through your packed bags to find the sunhat you'd brought with you. You pop it on your head and turn to smile at them. "See? So you wear yours and we'll be matching."

Roan doesn't hesitate to crowd your legs. You grab her hat from her 'baby' bag and place it carefully on her head. It hides her beautiful hairdo, but it'll keep her safe from the heat. She looks you in the face and grins.

"Beautiful," you compliment.

Eddie doesn't look quite as summer ready as you both. His hair is down, shiny clean but unlikely to stay that way considering the heat. He's wearing blue denim rather than black, something he'd spoken of with horror but more than pulls off, and a black Motorhead t-shirt. There's one chain around his neck that he never takes off, but besides that he's sans jewellery.

"Roan," he says, "we're gonna walk to the pier to stretch our legs, but you have to hold hands. And you can sit down in the stroller when they're tired again." She nods hurriedly at the idea that she'll be free for a while. "Okay. Alright."

Eddie gets her stroller out and unfolds it, putting her baby bag in the seat. You rake your fingers through the ends of Roan's hair while you wait, the sun warming the back of your neck already.

Eddie locks the car, and the three of you start toward the pier. Roan holds your hand and Eddie pushes the stroller out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk that leads to the pier.

The smell of salt tickles your nose. Roan's hand flutters in yours like a hummingbird, excited gasps breaching her lips when you pass an ice cream stand bragging rainbow cotton candy bigger than her head, kaleidoscope gelato, Popsicles in cherry red, raspberry blue and lime green. Her eyes widen at the sight of huge diamond kites, yellow rubber dinghies, surfboards and wetsuits dripping water down sandy ankles.

You know Eddie's been saving. He confessed, when you'd brought up your concern one night, that he wants her to have everything.

What's going on? you'd asked, frowning at his bedraggled face after another late shift. You knew Wayne had been picking Roan up from daycare to let him keep working, and it just hadn't been like Eddie to do that. You can tell me anything.

You'd been expecting, regrettably, money troubles. The Munson's aren't rich but they've never been hurting for money since you met, and all these extra hours has you assuming the worst.

Eddie rubbed a tired eye. I just want her to have everything. I don't want to say no. Not even once. When we go on vacation, I want her to point at things and I want her to know how it feels to be able to have them without a fight.

Admirable, a tinsy bit silly. Of course he wants that, isn't that what everyone wants for their children? Admirable, because he wanted it and he worked for it, and he saved up enough to bring Roan here and spoil her within an inch of her life. Silly, because Roan doesn't ask for much. She does ask for stuff, of course, but she's not gonna beg him for a two hundred dollar professional kite, or state of the art arm floaties. But just because you think it's a little silly doesn't mean you aren't incredibly in love with him, impressed by and proud of his efforts.

He wants to get Roan everything. And so they start with shaved ice.

It's the second stand you see, just off of the pier with a long, long line. Eddie scoops her up off of the floor so she can see the different flavour combinations, and it's no surprise when she chooses all the pinks and red. Strawberry, cherry, and pink lemonade. The cone is bigger than her hands and costs a ridiculous seven dollars.

The small smile on Eddie's lips when he can crack out a crisp twenty dollar bill and hand it over makes you smile, too. It's satisfying. All that hard work was worth it for this moment.

And the moment after. Eddie takes the snow cone and Roan audibly sighs.

"Oh, my gosh," she says.

You laugh. Eddie looks at you from over his shoulder and beams.

Roan wants to do everything, as Eddie predicted. She plays arcade games she's too short for, hoisted up on his knee or in your arms, face screwed in concentration every time, and though the controls escape her she loves hitting the big red button and watching the claw come down.

But she also wants stuff money can't buy. She wants Eddie to hug her when the clown walks past because he's big and bright and a little scary. She wants kisses when they stand at the side of the pier to look at the lake, blue and clear as an ocean, and drops some of her own against Eddie's sweaty cheek when she's been loved up. She wants you both to swing her by the hand when you're walking down the ramp to the beach, which is difficult but not impossible with the stroller in Eddie's other hand.

She wants to get ice cream, and a slurpee despite her half eaten snow cone. She wants soft pretzels and churros and a hotdog with extra onions. She wants a surfboard, and you dissuade Eddie from getting her one of the proper ones in favour of a floatie.

She wants you to put the finishing touches on her crumbly sand castles, and to cuddle in your lap when Eddie makes her drink from a cold bottle of water. When you've been sat in the sun so long that your brain is jellified and you have more sand in your shoes than sock, she springs up from her stomach where she'd been kicking her little feet drawing smiley faces in the sand and demands you take her down to the waterfront. You leave your towels on and the stroller further up the bank and pray for the best, and Eddie peels out of his t-shirt and rolls up his pants a couple of feet from the water. Eddie pulls her sandy dress off to reveal the swimming costume she'd been wearing underneath, a bright yellow costume with a skirt, not too tight to hurt, and bends down at the waist to talk to her as they wait for the water to rush in. You encourage armbands over her elbows.

"It's gonna be cold, Ro, so we have to run in! Are you ready?"

"I'm super ready!" she says, squeezing his hand and squaring her shoulders.

You secure her bands and take her other hand into your right hand, your shoes in your left, bracing yourself for the shock.

You run in full pelt and screaming with joy. Roan's voice turns into a stream of "oh my god oh my gosh daddy pick me up'd it's too cold oh my gosh," as the water covers your calves and her waist. Eddie immediately leans down to pick her up, out of choices and surprised by her loud aversion. Water stains him from knee to navel.

"It's not that bad, babe," he says, though he meets your gaze over her head and mock glares at your shaking head. It's freezing. "We just have to get used to it. Ready?"

He doesn't let her get ready. He doesn't let you get ready. He grabs your wrist and pulls you with him, fighting the cold as the gentle lake tide laps at your waists.

"Eddie, our pants!" you protest. You'd brought spare clothes in case of any accidents. This is decidedly not an accident.

"Please, sweetheart, just come in," he says.

He should legally be prevented from saying please and sweetheart in the same sentence. You submerge yourself to the waist as he wanted and stand there in the water, the taste of river water heavy on your lips now, splashes of cold wetting higher up your chest. It's close to intolerable, the only saving grace the heavy heat of the sunshine above you.

"How's that, Roanie?" he asks.

He's clearly having a blast. His eyes are brighter than the sun dappling that kisses the waves.

"It feels squishy," you say, adjusting your footing in the sandy bottom of the lake.

"This is so FUN!" Roan shouts, letting go of Eddie's neck to put her hands in the water. She splashes the surface and soaks Eddie's t-shirt to the neck in the process.

You almost fall over trying to find his waist in the blue. You wrap and arm around Roan and Eddie wraps and arm around you, the three of you much too deep in the lake and with no plans of turning around just yet.

"This is so fun," he says, kissing her cheek, kissing yours. "We should do this every year."

You smile at his chest.

You hadn't realised, yet, that he wanted you every year. Roan babbles her agreements, talking about her snow cone and the sunshine and her floatie. She stops suddenly.

Eddie rubs her shoulder, water shining across her pale skin. "What, babe?"

"Daddy, where's my floatie?"

You head back up the beach to find it. Her stroller and your towels have been left alone, but the floatie must've been too tempting.

Eddie, without complaint, goes to buy another.

—

more Eddie and Roan ♡

please reblog if you enjoyed, it means so much!

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

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vanessamooney · 25 days

Text

The Age of Us pt. 1 - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Glimpses into your lives through the years

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Part 2

Part 3 coming soon!

In First Year you're a ball of glimmering potential. You're staring wide eyed at the brilliant castle before you from the boat house and on the walk up a little Draco is trailing behind you, holding up your robes to prevent them from dragging in the mud. You don't even notice the sweet gesture as you spend the climb up rambling to him about how excited you are to begin learning about magic, bouncy as ever with a smile wider than he's ever been able to draw out from you. Not even his mother's white peacocks at Malfoy Manor brought out such a smile from you, nor the time years ago when you two rolled down the hill on your family's estate, covered in twigs and wrestling in a pile of dried leaves, giggly as ever.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Draco watches proudly as his girl is sorted into Slytherin house, and he welcomes you with a radiant smirk as you trot over to the house table and seat yourself right next to him. He watches eagerly as Potter and that blasted orange haired Weasley boy are called out next, moping methodically along to the sorting hat, watching them with a glare he reserved for the mud-bloods his father would point out on trips to Diagon Alley. He hopes Potter will be sorted into Slytherin, after all, 'connections are key' Lucius would say and who better a connection than the chosen one?

'Oh Draco,' You tut, 'look at the sky!' you're in awe at the ceiling which you've only just noticed, the enchantments were executed so gracefully if you hadn't of read Hogwarts, A History before the year began you would've had no clue the great hall ever had a roof.

He looked at you with the same dirty expression sculpted on his face that he had given Potter through the ceremony, stuck like cement, but when he noticed your doughy lips parted in wonder, he reached over and with a nimble finger, he closed your mouth for you, leaving you blushing a tomato red.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Up! Up! Up!'

You're standing over your broom, watching the other kids stand in organised lines across from you in the fields, succeeding with calling their brooms to them. Draco had succeeded on the first try, of course, and you're embarrassed to be one of the last people whose brooms have still not so much moved from their original position.

He catches your eye and gives you a sympathetic look, crossing his lips into a firm line. The broom in his hand is tossed carelessly to the ground and he makes a leap towards you, his hands reaching to tenderly adjust your arm in another position.

Draco had received lessons over the Summer and was already worrying his mother as he hastily flew around the Manor windows on the shiny Nimbus Lucius insisted he needed. You watched him on warm Spring afternoons with your feet firmly planted on the ground in the grassy meadows as he perfected his flying, your hands busy with knitting because 'a little girl like yourself needn't fly,' as your mother had so often reminded you when you dared to ask.

'There, try with your hands like that, and say it firmly,' Your best friend instructed you, watching your worried eyes and flushed cheeks.

'I don't know Draco, maybe I just can't fly,' you confess, worried that really was the possibility.

'Just try,' he furrowed his brows, 'for me?'

You shakily nod your head, the last one on the field now without a complying broom. The Longbottom boy had now been escorted to the hospital wing by Madam Hooch and you hoped such a thing wouldn't happen to you but Draco seemed to read your mind when he notices your wandering eyes.

'Just look at me, look at my eyes, Y/N,' he began, rubbing your shoulders 'Don't focus on anything else,'

You gulped, staring into him with an openess you reserved only for him 'Up!'

The broom snaps into your hand and you squeal in excitement, throwing it away as quickly as it flys to you and embracing Draco in a hug so tight he could barely breathe.

You don't notice the glares the two of you received from Potter and his gang, but Draco does, giving them an equally dirty look before marching over to the remembrall that had rolled over and snatching it right off the ground.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

There was a troll on the loose in the castle and you've been escorted back to the Slytherin dorms by the Head boy and girl. Everyone had gone up into their respective dormitories in fear of being taken by the ghastly monster but you had tugged on Draco's sleeves with puppy dog eyes and begged him to stay in the common room and play a game of friendly wizard's chess with you.

He sighs and rolls his blue eyes to the back of his skull but reluctantly agrees and you sit warm by the fire on a bear hide rug. The chess board is nestled between the two of you and Draco instinctively goes to grab the white King but you start to sulk.

'Oh Draco, please, can I be white this time?' you beg, looking up at him with the biggest and glassiest eyes you could possibly muster. How could he say no?

'Ugh, you just want to be white because you want to use the Wayward Queen opening, you always use that one,' he retaliates, pressing the white King into your little hands.

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

'Do not!'

'Do too!'

You blow him a raspberry and make your first move. Pawn to E4.

'Ah hah!' He exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at you with a light scowl brushed on his features, tussling his air with his other hand in frustration. 'You're doing it! You're doing the same opening!'

You give him a ghastly stare and with a swing of your arm you knock over all of the chess pieces, huffing and puffing as they spread fallen all over the board.

'Fine! Stay down here and get eaten by the troll then!' You hiss at him, and run up to your dorm room to scream into your pillow.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're sitting in the first potions class of the year, listening to Professor Snape lecture Harry about not listening after watching him methodically take notes on the Professor's wise words from a couple rows away. You weren't able to get a seat next to Draco at the front of the class and you silently thanked this luck, having boasted about how much you've studied all Summer in preparations for potions and knowing Draco had not read even a single passage.

You sat next to a bushy haired Gryffindor girl called Lavender who weary looked in a mirror and you smirked as you watched Draco's ivory head listening to Snape assign the first task ever: brewing a common poison antidote. When Snape announces the winning pair will receive 5 points each to their respective houses your eyes twinkle with anticipation.

You leave your partner behind to gather the ingredients for the potion: Bezoar, mistletoe berries and a unicorn horn. You bump into Draco in front of the ingredient cupboard, and beam at him proudly.

'I read about this potion in the potions book,' you smile sweetly up at him, purposefully brushing against him as you shove to grab the vials. 'It should be a piece of pie,' you laugh accusingly, standing as tall as your short legs allow you to.

'Good luck,' Draco laughs vacantly, handing you a unicorn horn from the top shelf you couldn't reach. His fingers brush against yours and you scoff, heading back to your cauldron.

Lavender is sat twirling the knife on its tip on the chopping board as if she'd never seen the utensil before and in the time you were gone had managed to spill water just about everywhere, wetting your parchment and bleeding the ink of the potion recipe.

'My goodness,' You exclaim, rushing to take away the knife and wipe up the water, 'have you two left hands?'

You watch the potion brew and bubble as it cooks, anxiously tracking the time with an hourglass. When the final grains of sands trickle through the narrowed passage, you hastily reach for the unicorn horn you powdered earlier and your heart sinks when you see your partner already poised over the cauldron, a pinch of the precious powder between her fingertips. She carefully sprinkles it into the cauldron and you watch in horror as a noxious cloud of black smoke billows forth and envelops you both in char.

'How many pinches did you put in?' You scream, wiping the soot from your eyes.

'Two,' Lavender whimpers, eyes stinging from the cloud.

'It was meant to be ONE!'

Everyone in the class is now giggling at your misfortunes and Professor Snape has now come over to see what all the commotion is about.

'You two better clean that up right now,' Snape chastised in his nasally voice, condemning you to blush in shame beneath the soot on your cheeks.

As Snape made his rounds, meticulously examining the colors of each potion, his scrutiny lingered noticeably longer on Draco's cauldron. The pungent aroma that emanated from Draco's concoction filled the classroom, matching the textbook's description exactly, causing you to wince involuntarily.

'Malfoy, Zabini, 10 points to Slytherin,' Snape announces.

Draco's triumphant gaze locks onto you as he revels in his perceived victory in the silent competition between the two of you. With a mocking laugh, he directs his attention to your soot-streaked face, his expression one of haughty satisfaction as he proudly asserts his well-deserved win with a piercing stare.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Eyes drifting over to Pansy Parkinson you can't help but notice she is staring at your best friend, and you don't like it. You're in Charms class with Professor Flitwick and you're sitting a few seats down from Draco who is stuffed in-between his minions and looking increasingly annoyed from the class introduction Flitwick is moping on about. Pansy has painted on herself an innocent expression she only wore around Draco and you wished you could shake her until the ribbons came undone and her mask fell off.

Despite her Pureblooded nature and family status, you couldn't rid the feeling of unease whenever she was around and sharing a dorm with her turned to be nothing short of a Lovecratian nightmare. There was something about her that set your teeth on edge. You wanted to pry off her veil and examine her flaws beneath a microsope; you wanted to disect her and unravel the intricacies that made you burn with an inextinguishable fire.

You gaped at her when she cheered on Draco who had quickly succeeded in levitating his feather, leaning over the desk so far you thought she would topple right over and end head first in the middle of the classroom, bouncing on her horribly cut bob upside down and out of the classroom window and into the grounds. You imagined it so vividly you started to chuckle to yourself and didn't even realise Draco had been beckoning you with the usual smirk you loved across the desk.

Pansy looked at him eagerly, daydreaming about her name dancing on Draco's tongue rather than yours and she blushed a million shades of red when she realised she was drooling slightly from the corner of her mouth. You shot her a look of disdain, features twisting haughty from her sopping desperation. She knew that you had won - as did you -knowing it was your name on his lips, not hers.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

'Potter,' You're seething through your teeth, acknowledging his dreadful existence as you and Draco pass him on the way to the Quidditch fields. You're dressed head to toe in green, showing support for your house. Draco's Slytherin scarf is wrapped securely around your neck, flowing behind you in the wind and you delight in his scent. You can't help but watch Harry in pure disgust, not because you hate him by proxy, but because Draco should be seeker, not him and it wasn't fair.

'Rosier,' He starts back, his eyes narrowing to a squint at the two of you for an instant before he hurries back to the safety of the rest of the Gryffindor team. Malfoy smirks at you proudly, leading you to the Slytherin seating area with a gentle hand on the small of your back, luxuriating in seeing his scarf around your neck.

And when all of Hogwarts watches Harry reveal he has caught the golden snitch, you feel nauseous and you can only think back to all of the nights you spent comforting Draco when he found out Harry had made the team. You scowl, your fingers sliding down to find Draco's beneath the bench and you squeeze them hard. It should've been him.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You wake up in a panicked sweat, the hair on your face sticking on your damp skin. You feel tears sliding down your plump cheeks and you reach up to wipe them away but they won't stop. Nightmares invaded your dreams, mercilessly rocking you awake in a sea of no hope. When you look around your sleeping quarters, you see strange figures in the form of your wardrobe, capes draped across armchairs and coat stands twice your height. Your dormmates are sleeping peacefully In their own beds, their light puffs of air comforting you - but it wasn't enough. You needed Draco.

Gulping, you manage to place your wobbly feet on the floorboards and wrap a Slytherin blanket around your tiny figure, tip-toeing out of the room without causing anyone else to lose sleep. You left the girls a silent prayer for their safety and you snuck down the stairs.

The common room was now empty in the middle of the night, the hot fire still roaring its song to warm the unforgiving dungeons the Slytherin house called home but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of being watched by prying eyes and you squeaked with the floorboards, rushing up the stairs opposite and straight to Draco's dorm.

You padded on the door softly with care to not wake the wrong occupant. You whispered his name more times than you could count, counting instead the hot tears that flew to the ground from your leaky eyes. When the door opens revealing a half-asleep Draco he knows right away to open his arms and hold you tight, and that is exactly what he did. That night he inhales your sweet scent and whispers sweet nothings into your ear, lulling the bad dreams away.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Snow topples from the sky and for the first time in your life you're happy about it. Christmas break came and went all too soon and now in front of you lies the vast whiteness of Winter. She covers Hogwarts in a thick blanket and you sink in it's softness, snow filling your boots and socks.

'Ah!', you jump around from the chill, pausing Draco is his steps as he's foraging for a stick to finish the snowman the two of you had spent all afternoon building. He lets out a hearty chuckle directed at you when you point to your boots, mouthing 'wet' and pouting with your pillowy lips.

He is stifling a laugh as he goes back to searching for the perfect twig and you don't feel content at this reaction. Without a single further thought, your gloves pawed into the sheath around you and formed a perfectly round globe of snow. You eyed your target meticulously, catching the eyes of Blaise and Pansy in the process and before Pansy could warn her precious Draco, you've already belted the snowball at him and watched as it exploded into dust on his back.

Draco whips back to see you howling in laughter, bracing yourself with your hands clutching your thighs, the pom of your beanie shaking erratically. He frowns, glancing over to his friends who shrug their shoulders at him, and while Blaise sends a cheeky smile, Pansy is mouthing your name and pointing to you crudely.

'Hey!' he yells, abandoning the stick he spent oh so long looking for and creating his own balls of destruction. He was going to make you regret this.

That afternoon you all walked back to the castle covered in snow and ice, hair wet and lips pink but you silently wished the day would have never ended and you replayed it over and over in your head that night, cackling silently when the image of Draco's scowl turned into a mischievous grin and it all lingered in your mind.

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jaegersdevil · 6 months

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nanami + "sorry, i can’t focus when you look at me like that"

"duck!" you scream, falling to the ground. a blast of fire swallows where you once stood, and you guarantee a few strands of hair were singed off in the process.

"shit," nanami mumbles, quick to draw his blunt sword and aim for the arm of the curse. the purple, seven-armed first-grade wails as their arm is severed, rushing to the other side of the hall when the limb hits the floor.

you get up and run toward nanami, examining the burn on his shoulder. "fuck, you okay?" when he doesn't reply, you look up at him. "you alive?"

nanami nods, his eyes flickering between yours desperately. your expression softens when you notice his infatuated gaze — one for your eyes only. he opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of a disgruntled gurgle to your left draws you away from your lover's stare, and you look down — one of the curse's arms has wrapped around nanami's wrist, unbeknownst to him.

so, you stick your hand out, your technique making the curse freeze in shock. you sigh and close your eyes, focusing on your ability. nanami's stare never leaves your face, and he can't stop. he's enamoured with you.

and once the insides of the curse are scrambled, it explodes, raining violet gloop all over you and nanami.

"gross," you spit, wiping the sludge from your cheeks.

"why didn't you do that sooner?" nanami asks, his breathing ragged and his hair unruly.

you turn to look at the man beside you in disbelief, concern making your chest hurt. "how did you not notice that curse grabbing you? you could've been hurt!"

nanami laugh is deep, his eyes low. with red cheeks, you guess are warm from embarrassment, he shakes his head. "sorry, i can't focus when you look at me like that."

"like what?" you tilt your head in confusion because what sort of excuse is that? yes, it makes your body tingle and your heart rate increase, but at what cost?

instead of answering, nanami waves his hand in dismissal and turns. "we've gotta get back to the school."

"you're kidding. ken—"

he reaches his hand out for you, winking behind his green lens. "come on, i'll tell you all about it when we get back home."

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #— ann writes!

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nanowrimo · 9 months

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5 Tips for Building a Sustainable Writing Practice

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. First Draft Pro, a 2023 Camp NaNoWriMo sponsor, is a great writing app—whether you’re writing solo or with a co-author. Here are a few tips for building a sustainable writing practice, brought to you by author Ariana Brown and First Draft Pro.

We’ve all heard the advice to “write every day,” as if it were that easy! Translation: suck it up, no one cares if you’re tired. But what if there was another way to get writing done, without being unkind to yourself?

Hi, I’m Ariana Brown, and I teach writers how to create a writing practice that is sustainable, flexible, and fulfilling. Most of my students are chronically ill, disabled, neurodivergent, or simply exhausted from the daily stresses of life. I know writing isn’t your only responsibility—capitalism makes sure of that! But I strongly believe that writing should be an enjoyable activity you look forward to.

Below I’ve compiled my top tips for exhausted writers who want to be kinder to themselves—and still get the work done.

1. Add pleasure to your writing routine.

Sensory pleasures are neither frivolous nor are they only for children. They’re a crucial part of being alive! They give us something to look forward to when times are tough and we need motivation. Candles, soft blankets, cold beverages, mood lighting, dance breaks, yummy treats—whatever you choose, make sure it’s something you love. Paint your nails a fun color so you have something beautiful to look at while you’re typing away. Make a playlist of your favorite songs and after you finish a chapter, blast one song so loudly you have to get up and dance. Then, get back to writing. Remember, even for the most focused among us, pleasure is a better motivator than shame.

2. Be clear about your intentions.

What brought you to writing in the first place? For some, it was the ability to escape into our imaginations. For others, it was the chance to finally express what we’d been holding inside. Identify your reason for writing, then ask yourself: Am I still enjoying this? Do I still feel connected to my reason for writing? If not, explore how you can strengthen your connection to your inner child’s reason for writing.

3. Work with your brain, not against it.

If we know that everyone’s brain works differently, why do we force strict discipline and linear processes on ourselves? My advice: find or create a writing process that works for you. Maybe you love outlines; maybe you prefer to see where the words take you. Either way, make space for wandering, play, and discovery as you write. Take brain breaks. Doodle, map, dance, and draw when you get distracted. Body double with other writers, try new exercises and prompts to make the writing sing, and take plenty of breaks to stretch your body and talk to friends. We come to writing with our whole selves. Listen to your body, don’t shut it off.

4. Find a writing community.

You don’t have to wait for a community to come to you! I offer co-writing sessions on Zoom four times a month for my Patreon supporters, but do what works for you. Attend local open mics as an audience member and cheer on your peers. Invite your best friends to your living room once a month for a two hour writing/crafting session. Or check your local library and bookstores for free workshops and author events. You don’t have to do this work alone.

5. Develop a gratitude practice.

Finishing your draft is a huge accomplishment, but it’s not the only milestone to be celebrated. Consider creating opportunities to thank yourself throughout your writing practice. You’re doing an amazing and difficult thing. The fact that you keep showing up is worthy of celebration. Whether you decide to journal, rest, pray, meditate, or reward yourself, a little gratitude goes a long way.

Ariana Brown is a queer writer from San Antonio, TX, based in Houston. She is the author of We Are Owed (Grieveland, 2021) and Sana Sana (Game Over Books, 2020), and a national collegiate poetry slam champion. Ariana holds an MFA in Poetry, MS in Library and Information Science, and a BA in African Diaspora Studies and Mexican American Studies. She has been writing, teaching, and performing for over a decade. Follow her online @ArianaThePoet and www.arianabrown.com.

#nanowrimo #writing advice #executive dysfunction #neurodivergent writers #disabled writers #by nano sponsor #first draft pro #ariana brown

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dumbcopyc4t · 4 months

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good girls go bad!

2.37k words

everybody in this world has their thing, some like to draw, others like paint. eren jaeger liked to believe he had many things, things he thought to be normal that most if not all would find to put it lightly.. strange.

not to be blunt but if you asked anybody from the dimly lit house party what eren jeagers specific thing was they'd all tell you the same thing.

sex.

you wouldn't even have to sleep with the guy to know how good he was in bed, every girl that comes stumbling from a random room on wobbling legs was most definitely proof enough.

this was NOT your scene. you stood there stiff in the corner, red solo cup in hand, surrounded by your five girlfriends who simply wouldn't take no for an answer.

they knew you'd follow the rules, the rules that your father had put in place when he shipped you off halfway across the state.

the silver purity ring on your finger hit the cup to the rhythm of the music as you slightly bopped your head.

that very ring a tall brunette had his eyes on all night. the man had been watching you since his body hit the sticky leather of the wore down couch. when your eyes flicked across the room his would immediately drop down to his own ring clad fingers picking at the arm rest.

"come onnn (❤︎︎), just a few shots. you need to loosen up anyway!" your closest friend sasha drags you across the scene leaving the other group of girls to their own devices.

begrudgingly you trek behind her, pulling down that itty bitty denim skirt the girls forced you to purchase 'just in case'.

she spots connie leaning against the marble of the kitchen island all by himself. suddenly she's flinging herself into his arms seaming already drunk off of whatever pungent liquid was mixed up in her now forgotten solo cup.

"well if it isn't my favorite little munchkin," she squeals when he drops her back down. "my friend here is in dire need of whatever you could pour into a shot glass, stat!"

connie smiles at her opting not to say much knowing his words would be slurred. red eyes scan you quickly as if he was pondering what bitter beverage he could give you to loosen you up fast.

you stood close behind sasha watching connie line up six plastic shot cups before pouring a glass bottle of clear liquor (to the brim) of each cup. being the gentleman he was he opens the cooler by his foot pulling out two mini can of pinapple juice.

snatching a shot for himself he tosses it back with a grimace and a quick head shake then walks off giving you a look of good luck.

"two for me, three for you." she hands you the can and pulls you to stand by her. taking a deep breath through your nose you grab each shot one by one and then chase them with the juice. it's almost embarrassing how loud you gagged from the tingle in the back of your throat.

"good?" she laughs at your struggle and you shoot her a glare. "what do you think sash??"

you look back over your shoulder to see that your friend group had dispersed among themselves with fellow party goers, unsurprisingly. lucky for them you made everyone share locations before even coming here AND gave them the major stranger danger safety run down.

what's even more embarrassing is how within the span of five minutes you feel every nerve slip into a relaxed state, the crease of you brow is replaced with a content, one would say- happy expression.

the first sound of 'speaker knockerz- freak hoe' is played full blast and it's like a flash flood of nearly every girl in the party racing towards the ¿dance floor?. but not only were the girls rushing through, but the guys too. either trying to stop their girls from showing out or simply tryna catch what was being thrown.

you and sasha being part of the crowd followed not far behind. and wherever you went green hooded eyes followed in suit.

in most cases you weren't one to show you in private let alone in public, but before you left the comfort of your dormitory the girls showed you a step by step tutorial on basic "ass shaking."

good for you that you comprehension skills are a-1 because in no time you were throwing it all around the world, my god would you regret this in the morning. sasha being there was extremely handy in making sure your skirt didn't ride up to the point where nothing was left to the imagination.

and boy oh boy did eren have a good one. zoning out on you and that stupid silver band circling your ring finger. he suddenly snaps into reality when a man, a random, tries to catch what he claimed for the night.

eren is quicker, his stride longer. you feel him before you see him. his presence is great. big almost. his scent woodsy and minty with a linger smell of weed. intoxicating.

sasha give you a look once the song is over and made into something that can be danced to in a slow grind. you smile and wink she takes the hint and scurry off to find her baldheaded best friend.

the man behind you leans forward and your automatically enticed by the eyes. bright and green but low and lidded. your arms reach you around his neck and tangle in the hair on his nape, the weight of his bun resting there as well.

on the other hand(s) his are traveling down your side and to the opening of your blouse. you stop him, turning to face him only to be met with a broad chest. . looking up to see a man more striking the a god themself, he grins small and sexy. you look more beautiful up close, he can't help the lump twitching against his thigh in this black cargos.

he also can help but notice the way you scan his face all doe like, he lets you drink him in even with the heavy bass pumping throughout both your bodies.

finally you breathe out a simple "hi." shuttering cause you feel his eyes on your lips, then the drop lower to the star sign necklace sitting on your collar bone.

you move before him, grabbing him by the collar of his black tee. hell- it was just as shocking to you as it was him wondering where in the world you got all this confidence from.

"hey." he mutters against your lips before reciprocating the kiss. it's desperate on your end and controlled on his, like trying to pull an elephant with a rope. you whine into his mouth and he can't help but puff out a breath of laughter.

he pulls back and you can't help but chase him. "bathroom?" he looks you dead in your eyes already tipsy on just a taste of what this man can give you. you nod at a flashes pace when you feel the not so subtle pulse down below. and just like that the two of you are off, him shielding you from the sea of sweaty bodies. you pass sasha and connie once more making direct eye contact with her.

her jaw drops hard. she turns to connie who lifts his hand to close her mouth, who mumbles something about hot breath.

eren waste no time knowing exactly where the first floor washroom is. another man stumbles his way towards the door and earns a palm to the face and a rough shove by eren.

he locks the door quickly before the complaints start and shoves your lower back against the sink capturing you in another mind numbing kiss. the cold thin metal of your ring stings his skin when you cup his handsome face, and he groans deep and long. rutting his chub against your thigh.

he breaks first spinning you around so that you're facing the mirror. lips swollen, eyes glassy, and edges starting to lift, eren wants to devour you. eat you whole.

he leans into you pushing his weight on your back. wet open mouth kisses from the junction of your shoulder all the way up to your ear and he huffs out "eren."

lost in the sensation you hum at him choking back a moan when he reaches under that god forsaken skirt and he barely applies pressure to your panties. and yet here they are soak down.

"my name, eren. remember it." he muttered to you taking pleasure in watch you quiver like a leaf over a thumb. just as sudden as it came his hand was ripped away away. hiking up your skirt he pulls your panties down, and spreads.

"my god," he sighed. nothing in this world could prepare him for the sight that beholds him. sticky, wet folds make a slick noise as he thumbs through them. he watches you twitch and arch your back, in an instant he drops down to his knees.

"just nasty," he commented before dropping to his knees shoving his face in your cunt. his mouth automatically finds your clit and he sucks. that sharp nose of his nudging against your clenching hole. and then- he takes in a sharp breath through his nose eye scrolling to the back of his skull.

you've lost all support opting to rest your forehead on the mirror while eren sucks on you pussy like a starved man. it's so much, it's too much. he's sloppy with it, fluids dripping down from his mouth, to his chin, onto his shirt. all you can do is moan.

"ugh -god! eren! eren!" you sob, he slurps. its all so good.

"you're cumming? come on pretty, cum on my fucking tongue." he envelopes you whole and shoves his tongue in repeatedly over and over until you scream.

"shit - eren im fucking cumming!" and you do. hard. but he keeps going not wasting a drop of your release. gasping for some air, hunched over the sink, panties down by your knocking shaking knees, you feel it.

hard, long, heavy, and thick against your lower back you didn't even realize he had dropped his cargos and boxers just below his fat balls. 8 inches of man ready and waiting.

he see you lifting yourself up and he decides you had enough time to recover. his slides his tip an angry shade of red, through your sensitive folds and then pushes in slow.

quickly he grabs his base hard and squeezes. "shit-" he stills, taking a deep breath. "s'fucking tight." he comments rubbing on your swollen clit making you shudder. "loosen up dollface, let me in." his brows furrowed as he watches you biting into the fabric of your sleeve. your holding back and he knows in. he knows he's big, and he knows you can take it.

in one swift motion he bottoms out and you cry. cry so loud you could stop the party. his 'thrust' shallow but oh so deep, fat tip nudging right against your cervix.

"o-oh fuck FUCK!" you wail clenching on him hard as you orgasm. "atta girl, there she is." he grins big and bright. "feels good don't it? you love cummin' on me dontcha, princess?" he hisses, reeling his hips back and he pounds into you.

"s-shit, you're soo g-oodd!" you wailed to him, your tits bouncing out that stupid stuffy blouse. he wants to see more, to feel more. his fingers scoop you up by the neck. damp back pulled to his wet chest, and he squeezes. the feeling of his hand even resting on your throat was delicious - but this.

this was different. "e-erenn! jesus f-fucking christ! m'cummin, m'cummin!" you gasp out hand wrapping around his and choking you harder. his eyes widen green eyes nearly black and gives a wild smile at your fucked you expression. "you filthy little thing, you like being choked dont ya? what would yer daddy say if he found you his dollface little girl was slutting herself out for me ,hm?"

you feel it, right there in your gut, hot desire flooding from your pussy all onto the floor in streams of clear liquid. your cheeks are red from the lack of oxygen. his thrust get harder but you can feel eren tensing. another brutal thrust and he grunts deep and sexy. "fuck baby." he fucks himself through his high just using your sloppy cunt to his will. his grip on you throat is released and that has you doubling over gasping for sweet oxygen.

jeager relishes the feeling of your walls clamping on him till he decides enough is enough. he pulls out and in an instant thick, creamy globs of cum plop down onto your soaked down underwear.

leaning down once more he come face of face with your fucked out pussy and licks the mixture of bodily fluids. this makes you jolt and then he presses a delicate kiss to you clit. contradicting his actions he sents a hard smack to your ass cheek. eren groans taking a look at the mess you both made on the floor and yourselves. he just grabs and decorative towels hanging above the toilet, wiping himself off and then throwing it on the floor to soak up any liquid.

then he hands you a pitiful piece of tissue paper to clean yourself off. but before you start he's distracting you with kisses to out ear lobe, he grabs your hand and suddenly your finger is feeling .. lighter.

before you can confront him he slips back out into the world leaving you stranded and confused.

also with an empty finger. bummer, he didn't even catch your name..

#anime #pwp #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren yeager

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tarotwithavi · 1 year

Text

Letter from your shadow side

What does your shadow side wants to tell you?

Piles : 1-2-3

Masterlist

Paid services

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself. Open your eyes and the first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Leave a note to support!

Pile 1

Dear me,

What do you need to release? Why are you still attracted to those situations/people when you know they are of no use? Why can't you move on? First you let people come to you then you trust them with all your heart and when they betray you, you cut yourself out even from the people who genuinely care for you. The problem is not others at this point, you need to change your mentality. Not everyone you meet is going to stay in your life forever. Not everyone you meet is good for you and not everyone you meet is bad for you. People come and go and you need to learn it. Why do you get so attached to people when you can clearly see their intentions. You need to find balance in life. You need to learn whom to trust and whom to not. Life is a mix of happiness and joy and sadness and betrayal. You fear change so much that you're prohibiting yourself from getting your blessings. Learn to accept change and learn how to move on.

Masterlist

Pile 2

Dear me

Why do you get so triggered when someone points out your mistakes? Accept that you're human and human make mistakes. Forgive yourself for not being perfect because I know you're trying your best. Your putting on your best show to please others but what about yourself? You can't lie to yourself. You can fool others but you can't fool yourself. You need to be true to yourself. If you feel tired take a rest, if you feel like crying cry your heart out, if you feel neglected say it out loud. Don't hold your emotions inside or else you'll blast. Express yourself. Be your unapologetic self. You think differently that's why people can't understand you. People hate what they can't understand. You have big dreams and trust me you'll fulfill each of them , you just need to take a leap of faith. There's nothing wrong in being different. I know you feel as if your own family doesn't understand you but remember how would other know you when you don't know yourself? And I'm not talking about your fake self that you created for people, I'm talking about your true self.

Masterlist

Pile 3

Dear me

Why do you so defensive when someone approaches you? Why can't you see how special you are? Why you do compare your current self to your past self? A lot have changed. I know your past isn't the best but you are not who you were few years ago. Just look at yourself and how much you have changed. So when someone compares you to your past self just think that person isn't anymore. And you are not that person. You need to have trust in yourself and trust the process. Everything will work out in your favour. Try to write out your feelings if you can't express them. Just write it out and burn it. You are already doing great. You are like a black cat. People call you bad luck but in reality you're nothing like that. You are the luckiest for yourself. You need to get in tune with your inner diva your inner child. Do the things you used to love as a child. Draw, paint, Dance and learn.

Masterlist

#tarot reading #tarot cards #free readings #free tarot #pick a card #tarot #pick a pile #tarotblr #pick a picture #pac tarot #pick a crystal #pick a photo #tarotcommunity #tarotwithavi #tarot witch #tarot readings #oracle reading #shadow work

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peterporkerfan · 10 months

Text

sketchbook [earth 1610!miles morales x latina!reader]

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fluff, light cursing, kissing, relationship insecurities, lots of spanglish

a/n: i’m a puerto rican whose first language is spanish, so nothing here is google translated i promise 💀

It was a hot June afternoon, and the air was sizzling all over the city.

You and Miles laid on his bed, side by side, with his arm draped around your shoulder. The AC was on full blast, and Miles’ favorite album sounded all around the room. You were both humming and singing along contently. You looked up at him smiling every once in a while, and he’d look back, smiling even wider.

“Baby, do you hear this? No one does it like Kendrick. His music is on a whole ‘nother level.” He smiled back down at you, looking at you with sheer adoration.“You know, Gwen and I…we’d listen to him all the time when she’d swing by. I love his music.”

“Remember when your favorite rapper was Post Malone?” You joked, and he looked away awkwardly.

“Yeah…we don’t—we don’t talk about that.”

You laughed and you brought your hands to his cheeks, bringing him closer and kissing him deeply. He smiled into the kiss, bringing his hands to your waist and pulling you towards him until you were laying on top of him.

You pull away from the kiss, and look down at Miles while you smile.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Miles. Eres otra cosa.”

Miles smiled back at you, feeling so lucky to have someone like you in his life. “Just wait until you meet Peter, Hobie, or Gwen…especially Gwen. She’s the coolest person ever. You two would get along really well.” Miles rambled.

“I’m sure we would.” You smiled back at your boyfriend, knowing how much he cared about his friends.

“Miles, mijo! Baja un momentito. I need your help with something!” Mrs. Morales shouted from downstairs.

“Coming, Ma!” Miles shouted back, turning his head in the direction of the opened door.

“A mi tú no me grites!”

Miles sighed, “I’ll be back ya mismo”

“I’ll be right here” You smiled at him. Miles smiled back and walked out, leaving you alone in his room.

When Miles shut the door, you stood up from your position, sitting with your legs crossed on the edge of the twin sized bed. You took in his room, and how much it reminded you of him. His collectible figurines, countless posters of his favorite rappers and albums, and the constant clutter on his floor. You spotted his sketchbook on the ground right in front of you, and felt a sudden urge to pick it up.

Miles was generally open about most things with you, however he kept his drawings to himself. You never questioned it as maybe he just thought they were embarrassing or too personal. You slowly picked up the book and started flipping through its pages. At first you were met with images of his uncle, his suit, and the streets of Brooklyn. You smiled faintly as you flipped through, appreciating how utterly talented your boyfriend was. However, you were suddenly met with countless images of someone whose name you’d never forget: Gwen.

Miles’ face would always light up when he mentioned Gwen. You never thought much of it, however, there were so many drawings of her in his sketchbook, which must’ve taken hours to make, with every little detail about her captured on the paper. You began to feel an unfamiliar pain take over you, and you put the sketchbook down where you got it from. God, she was gorgeous. And cool. Of course Miles liked her…I mean who wouldn’t? The way he described her made her seem so…captivating. Before the thought took over you completely, Miles walked into the room again, holding a large laundry basket and setting it down besides his bed. You tried to change your expression, looking up at your boyfriend like you usually would.

“That’s a lot of clothes to sort through. Que mierda.” Miles sighed.

“You need any help?”

“Yeah, actually. That’d be pretty good.”

“Cual es la palabra mágica?” You teased, batting your eyes at him playfully.

Miles narrowed his eyes at you, acting playfully annoyed. “Please?”

You walked towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and leaned down to sort through the clothes in the basket.

“I think you might’ve outgrown this sweater a while ago.” You held it out so Miles could see. It was an orange cardigan, with patches embroidered into it.

“Haha, very funny, Y/N. That’s Gwen’s. She left it here last time que visitó.”

“Y tú—you wear it?” You asked, feeling the uneasiness you felt before come rushing back.

“Course not. Mami probably threw it in the laundry basket sorting through my room at some point.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nice to have something of her’s though. Just to remember her by.”

Some time went by and you continued to fold clothes while a question bubbled inside you. Finally, after a long silence, you asked.

“Miles, tú—do you still…”

“Do I still what, mi amor?”

“Have feelings for…”

Miles furrowed his brows. “For…Gwen?”

“I mean, you talk about her so much and I didn’t mean to violate your privacy or anything but I may or may not have looked through your sketchbook filled with drawings of her. And don’t get me wrong the drawings are really good pero—”

Miles interrupted your senseless ramble. “Mi amor…”

“Qué?”

“You don’t seriously think that I like her, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean I wouldn’t blame you for it, you know. You did once before, you could again but—“

“Baby…those drawings are old, did you go through the whole thing?”

“No, not really. I guess I thought I’d seen…enough.”

Miles picked up the sketchbook off the ground and flipped through it. He handed it to you and looked at you with adoration as he did so (unbeknownst to you, as you were staring down at your shoes with shame). You flipped the page from a drawing of Gwen and saw it: countless drawings of you. All done when you thought he wasn’t looking. A drawing of you looking at the board in math class, sitting across the room from Miles (only because the teacher thought you two were “too chatty” when you sat together). A drawing of you sitting on your windowsill with headphones on, drowning out the world around you. A drawing of you walking towards Miles, smiling at him. The drawings continued for countless pages, and your eyes began to water as you looked back up at Miles.

“You did all these…de mi?”

“Claro, you’re my girl. Why would I not?” Miles’ brows furrowed as he looked towards you.

“Dios mio, I’m so sorry for thinking you liked her. Soy tan estupida a veces.”

“Nah, don’t be, and you’re not. Yo soy el que es medio pendejo every once in a while. That’s on me.” Miles laughed.

“Y Miles, these drawings are really good. Why hadn’t you shown me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t—ay, no se. I thought you’d think they were stupid or something, I guess.” Miles mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

“Stupid? Miles, these are…you’re crazy talented. Are you kidding me?”

“Thanks…” Miles blushed as he smiled back at you faintly.

“Alright, well… enough of this sappy shit. Where were we?”

“Laundry.” Said Miles.

“Right, laundry.”

“Do we reeeeally want to do the laundry though?” Miles asked, hoping you’d just say no.

“Fuck no.” You laughed.

“Great!” You laughed as Miles webbed you back to were you were before, laying side by side on his bed.

You looked up at him. “Can I choose the music now?”

“Fine, baby. Play whatever you want.”

You unlocked his phone and searched for a Spanish pop song you knew Miles hated.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Seriously…”

“Miles, si no es así te vas a convertir en un gringo. Con esa B en español, imagínate…”

“Alright, alright…lo que tu digas, mami.” He laughed, kissing the top of your head.

As the song played and you sung along to each word, Miles became sure of one thing:

He’d never let you go.

send me requests for whatever (no smut and only latina or white/race not specified reader please)!! i’ll write mainly for miles morales but i’ll take requests for anyone else spiderverse/spiderman!!

#miles morales x reader #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales 1610 #peter parker #fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #miles morales #miles morales x latina reader #miles borales blurb #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x latina reader

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afro-hispwriter · 1 year

Text

Lovers

Neteyam(22)x Na'vi!Reader(22)

Summary- Neteyam wants to be more and so do you, but you're scared of the commitment

Warnings- slight angst, oral(f receiving), getting interrupted

A/n- this was supposed to be a friends with benefits but it ended up them being lovers

Anybody who saw you and Neteyam could see that you loved each other. So it was a shock when they found out you weren't even mated.

You loved each other, confessed even. Neteyam thought he'd finally be able to be with you. But he was wrong... in a sense. You remembered as if it was yesterday.

You and Neteyam sat on a log, just on the outskirts of the village.

"My clothes are still on so I suppose you just want to talk." You say and wrap your tail around his affectionately.

"You caught me." He chuckled and scooted closer to you. "Y/n I know we agreed to not have feelings for each other when we started this but I failed. I fell in love with you, I want you to be mine."

Your mouth opened in shock. Neteyam smiled awkwardly but then frowned at your expression.

"Oh shit, fuck I'm so sorry." He starts moving away when you grab his large bicep.

"Neteyam I love you so much." A smile broke out on his face, it was going to hurt to say this. "But I can't be with you, I mean mate with you." His smile fell.

"Why not?"

"You are to be the Ole'keytan and mating with you would mean I would be Tsahik. Do not get me wrong I love our people and want to help them, but I prefer fighting for them

"The Tsahik can fight."

"But it is not advised. Im sorry, Neteyam I do love you but I am just scared." Neteyams shoulders dropped.

"You don't think I'm scared? I knew-thought with you by my side I would be less scared." Your lip quivered.

"I'm sorry." He sighed.

"Stop saying sorry mama. You don't want to be Tshaik and that's fine, but I don't want to lose you. I will wait for you if that is what you want." He grabbed your hand and held it up to his heart. "I will wait for an eternity." You place your hand on his shoulder and nodded.

A boom sounded in the distance. Flashing lights lit up the sky. What were they? You didn't have time to ask Neteyam because they got bigger and suddenly they were releasing big beams of light that destroyed the ground under them. It was so far away but you could see everything. Suddenly a big ball of fire appeared, clearing everything in its path.

"Neteyam." You grabbed his arm. "What is it? Why is it destroying our home?" Neteyam couldn't answer he slowly wrapped an arm around you.

"Sky people."

Why was this happening on this night of all nights?

You were with the ground team that attacked the train, now helping Tarsem pass out weapons to everyone on the field. Lo'ak ran up to you and held his hand out eagerly.

"Lo'ak your father instructed you to watch from the air." You say and hold the gun out of reach.

"Oh come on bet you didn't tell your boyfriend anything." He smirked and pointed behind him and you look to see Neteyam yelling orders at some of the warriors.

"He is not my boyfriend." You grumble and hand him the gun. You and Neteyam had kept the same strictly sex relationship, but it was different now since the night you confessed. You talked more intimately and were even getting affectionate in public.

Neteyam ran over to his brother.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Helping." Lo'ak smirks and loads the gun. A plane was overhead and started shooting.

"Shit run." You all started running when an explosion sent you all flying. You shake your head from the debris and stand up. You immediately searched for Neteyam, seeing him only a few feet from you.

"Ma Teyam are you alright?" You flipped him over and grabbed his face. Neteyams eyes opened and he smiled.

"My beautiful Y/n." His eyes then drooped down hazily before he groaned in pain.

"We must get you to help." You try to lift him but a blast hits close to you. You shield Neteyam from it and look up to see one of the machines walking toward you. You draw your bow back and pierce the clear material hiding a human, killing them instantly. Jake arrived next to you, he checked Neteyam all around before grabbing him and lifting him over his shoulders. "Lo'ak! Go with your dad. I'll hold them off." Lo'ak nods and follows.

When they were clear you called your ikran and took to the skies. You caught up with the war party and landed at high camp just as Jake started scolding his son but you didn't care. You ran up to Neteyam and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked at you briefly but still reached behind him to hold your hand.

"Lo'ak you were supposed to be spotting." He looks at his youngest son and then turns to his oldest. "Neteyam why did you let him land? Son you're going to be Ole'keytan soon, if you can't make people follow orders what does that say about you as a leader?" Your ears drop, knowing that duty is very important to Neteyam. You watched him blink rapidly, something he noticed he did when he tried not to cry.

"It's okay." You whispered lowly and he bit his lip.

"Y/n I need you to oversee the returning war party, please," Jake says but you shake your head.

"My lover is wounded."

"It's fine," Neteyam says and you shake your head again. He couldn't deny that his heart skipped a beat when you openly called him your lover. "Sir I take full responsibility."

"Neteyam." You groan.

"Yeah, you do what's right, because you the older brother and future leader you gotta set an example, so act like it." You look over at Lo'ak whose ears flattened in guilt.

"Ma Jake," Neytiri says giving him a look. "Your son is actually bleeding."

"Mother it's fine. I-." He says but doesn't finish.

"Just go and get patched up. Go on, dismissed." You instantly dragged Neteyam to Moat's tent.

"Are you alright?" You ask him and he winces.

"Just a few scratches I will be fine."

"Sit." You instruct and set your bow to the side. Moat turns around and gasps at the sight of her grandson.

"What happened."

"Explosion hit too close." You say and start preparing a drink that would help with the pain. You haven't told Neteyam but you've started your Tshaik training again little by little.

Tuk ran up next to you, knowing she was going to want to help.

"Give this to your brother." You tell her and hand her the small cup. She eagerly went to her brother and handed it to him. As he drank it Moat began placing the healing salve on his wounds. Neteyam winced and cried in pain. "Oh, I thought you were fine?" Neteyam glared at you with a playful glint in his eye.

"Aw, you need someone to kiss your booboo," Spider says and you glare at him, hard. It was never a secret how much you didn't like the demon boy. You sat down in front of Neteyam and grab his injured arm and start to clean it off.

"Grandmother me and Y/n have been experimenting with Yalan bark it is much better," Kiri says and you smile in agreement.

"And who is Tshaik?" Moat asks looking up briefly from Neteyams back.

"You are grand- move." She pushed past Lo'ak and Spider and crouched down. "You are grandmother." You start to wrap his arm and you notice Neteyam has yet to take his eyes off of you.

"What?" You whisper and he chuckles.

"When did you start experimenting with medicine?"

"Later, I am going to oversee the returning parties and see if anybody needs help." You kiss his bandaged arm and he leans in to kiss you on the lips but you stand up. "Later." This time you said it in a teasing manner. As you start to walk away your tail swiped underneath his chin and pulled him in your direction. He let himself follow you but Moat pulled him back.

It was past eclipse by the time you were done. You now were able to settle down in your small tent and get ready to go to sleep. The tent flaps opened and Neteyam stepped through, your back faced him but you knew it was him.

"You have not let me kiss you all day." He says and wraps his arms around you.

"I know." He nibbled your ear making you gasp lightly.

"Can I kiss you?" You turned around in his arms and hooked your arms around his neck.

"Of course, you can my prince." He gently placed his lips on yours. You smiled and kissed him back. The kiss got heated and he tried to push his tongue into your mouth but stopped him. He growled lowly and grabbed a handful of your ass and squeezed tightly. You gasped and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. He gave your ass a hard smack before grabbing the strings of your loincloth and ripping it.

"Missed. This. Pussy." He said in between kisses and walked you back to a table. You hopped up and wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in. His hardened cock pushes against you. You gasped lightly and threw your head back, lips disconnecting. He placed a few kisses on your neck before getting down on his knees. He started to kiss your inner thighs and your breathing picked up. He grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him, nose pushing completely against you.

"Oh fuck." He loved it when you cursed in English, it sounded almost innocent. He swiped his tongue in between your slit and flicked it up and down. He looked up and watched your face twist in pleasure. He then took your clit in between his lips and sucked. Two of his fingers started making their way inside of you.

You reached behind you and untied your top and tossed it somewhere else. Your hands grabbed your tits and you pinched the buds. Neteyam growled and reached up with his unoccupied hand and slapped one of your hands away. He grabbed and squeezed your breasts hard. You bucked your hips up and squeezed your thighs around his head. You rolled your hips on your mouth and grabbed his braids and pulled them harshly. You could barely stay sitting up.

Neteyam winced in pain at the tug but kept pushing his fingers in knuckles deep. He curled them up and you let out a scream.

"Gonna cum N-Neteyam!" He let your clit go and smiled.

"Yeah go on mama, cum for me." He let your breast go and slammed his arms on your hips to force them down, forcing you to take it. You slapped a hand behind you on the table and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. His fingers pushed against the spot and he was splashed in the face. You let out a shuddering sob as you squirted everywhere. Neteyam opened his mouth, drinking the most he could but some of it dripped down his chest.

You collapsed backward on the table, head hanging over the edge. Neteyam moaned into your cunt and the vibrations made you squeal.

"Stop, stop." You say and giggle while holding your hands out. He pulled away, a trail of cum connecting from your pussy to his lips.

"Good girl," Neteyam said and kissed the top of your thighs. He stood up and looked down at your body, watching you try to catch your breath. He grabbed you by your neck and pulled you up to sit. "Im gonna fuck you now mama, Is that okay?" He starts to undo his loincloth strings.

"Yes please fuck me." You begged and grabbed his wrist and pouted. Neteyam smirked and leaned down to kiss you but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. You almost screamed and he pressed your body close to him with the intent of hiding you from whoever it was.

"Neteyam?" It was Jake. Neteyam turned around and his eyes widened.

"Dad." Jake was facing away from you, looking at the wall.

"I need to speak with you, son. So uh just get decent." He turned and left, leaving you and Neteyam there. He kissed your forehead and laid his cheek on your head.

"Sorry about that."

"It's okay, go talk to your dad." Neteyam smiled and stepped back. He looked through a basket full of your clothes and held two loose pieces in his hands.

"I will be back." He says and hands you the clothing. He walks out of the tent, trying to hide the very large bulge in his pants.

"Sir?"

Jake turns around and looks his son up and down.

"We need to talk about some things." He nods and holds his hands in front of his crotch. "We've been having lots of close calls lately, so I think it's time we start talking about a mate so we can secure the next Ole'keytan."

"Dad." Neteyam groaned and rolled his eyes. "Y/n isn't ready for it, and I told you I wasn't going to have anybody else as my mate."

"I know I know," Jake says, holding his hands out in defense. "But it's time, so it's her or me and your mother choose someone."

"She has not even started her tsakarem training again."

"That is not what Mo'at said. I am just telling you, son." Neteyams ears flattened at Jake’s words, completely at a standstill.

He pushed back the tent flaps and walked in. You were sitting on the ground, weaving an armband. When you saw him walk in you instantly set it down.

"What happened?" He shook his head and slowly got on his knees. He pushed the basket of weaving materials away. He leaned forward and set both of his hands on either side of your hips and pushed his face close to yours.

"You are training to be Tshaik?" He dug his face into your neck and you sighed.

"Surprise." You say and nuzzle his head.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Tonight actually." He smiled and pressed a kiss to your neck. He suddenly pushed all his weight on top of you making you fall back. He rested all his weight on you and you groaned and giggled.

"Let's sleep."

"Not picking up where we left off?"

"Later."

Neteyam started to shake you awake.

"Y/n, wake up." You began to stir awake, eyes fluttering open.

"Yes?"

"Im going out to a scouting party with my parents. Do you want to come?" You turned around to your back and smiled.

"Not today, I think I will stay behind, help around where I can." He kisses your shoulder and stood up.

"I have something for you." He says and grabs something. "It's a comlink, so you can talk to me or anyone, but for now it's only set on my frequency." You sit up and inspect the small figure and looked up at Neteyam in confusion from his explanation. "You can talk to me while I'm away."

"Oh okay. How do I put it on?"

"Like a necklace." Neteyam grabbed your hair and held it up out of the way while you clasped the device around your neck. "Now press here." He grabbed your hands and pushed against the com. Loud feedback came back and you both winced. "We have to be far from each other for us to hear but it will be fine."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome baby, see you tonight."

Something was wrong, you could feel it.

"It is too quiet." You tell Mo'at. She nodded and looked around.

"Where are my grandchildren and that demon boy?"

"I do not know." You stood up and pushed against the com link. "Neteyam?"

His com crackled to life.

“Neteyam?” He heard your voice and pressed against his com.

“Yes?”

“Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, and Spider are not here.” He sighed.

“I know, they’re by the old shack with soldiers. We’re going to get them.”

Your heart stopped.

“I will find you.” You go to grab your bow.

“No Y/n, stay there just encase they are hurt and if they will need help.”

You stopped in your tracks and growled.

“Fine, but be safe. All of you. I love you Neteyam.”

He bit his lip and let out a chuckle, his parents flying on their ikrans turning their attention to him.

“I love you too.”

They came back almost at night. They were hurt too much, just a few scratches and cuts. But it didn’t account for the emotional trauma they’ve gone through.

You now sat with your legs crossed in front of you, working on the armband from the previous night. Neteyam walked in and laid down next to you on his back.

“Is everyone okay now?”

“For now.�� You looked down at him.

“What do you mean?” You set the armband down and grabbed his hand.

“They wanted me to stay back with the ikrans and eywa im glad I didn’t. Because if I did, they’d all be dead, and probably me too.” You frowned and your ears flattened.

“Just be glad that all of you are alive, do not dwell on it.” He shook his head but brought the back of your hand up to his mouth.

“Come here.” He opened himself up, inviting you for a cuddle session. You giggled and rested on his chest. You talked for a bit, trying to take his mind off everything when Lo’ak burst through out of breath. You both sat ho immediately and stared at him.

“What?”

“It's Mom and Dad, they’re fighting.” You look up at Neteyam and unravel from him.

“Go.” You urge him and he stands up to leave.

“I'll be back as soon as I can.” He leans down and kisses your head.

Neteyam came back an hour later seeming distressed.

“They’re hunting us Y/n, they’re hunting my family.”

“What? Who is hunting you?” You stop his pacing and grab onto his arms. He shakes his head, braids squishing around before grabbing your hands in his.

“The RDA want to kill us and my dad is making us all leave… and I want you to come with me.”

A/n- I actually hate this. New poll coming out to determine the next work you guys want:)

#neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x reader

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