#with the planet where he turned it from day to night okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 2 years

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𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve harrington is your boyfriend now. your boyfriend. and having a boyfriend means doing lots of new things, like dinner dates and movies, cuddling on the couch and kissing — lots of kissing. but there’s one thing you guys haven’t done yet, and steve’s just asked you to spend the night. [17.3k words]

warnings SMUT 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff heavy, new established relationship, first time, an overload of intimacy and affection, p in v sex, pet names, steve being the most loving dork on the entire planet and r being equally infatuated, mentioned that r has stretch marks, proofread not perfect

this is a companion to have you seen her? you don’t have to read it to understand, but if you want to it’s here <3

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Inside a sea of flowers lies a girl. Her skin glows with colour, the reflection of pigments. Sunspots of darkest red buffeted by buttery orange, indigo stretching into magenta, whites; endless whites ranging from creamy ivory to the violet shine of snow in the nighttime.

It's as if the flowers themselves bloom over your skin. Steve blinks and everything settles, your skin returns to skin, the reflections fade from focus. You stretch your leg out absentmindedly and lean forward to follow the book resting against the top of your thigh, entirely distracted.

The room smells as bright and fresh as the florist's itself. The flowers he'd given you, more than he could ever name, permeate everything. Most remain in good condition two weeks later, where some wilt despite your dedicated care.

Your fingertips are pin-pricked by the thorns of a rose's stem, injuries sustained in the hours you've spent preening each bouquet. You bring one such fingertip to your lips and suck lightly for a moment like it'll draw the small pain from your skin.

He leans against the doorway and takes in your appearance indulgently. Plaid pyjama bottoms hug your thighs. Your socked feet wiggle along to the sounds of your Walkman, music loud enough that you've missed his entrance.

He doesn't want to scare you into flinching and ruin the content little bubble you're in but he's certainly not about to turn around and leave after waiting all day to see you, no matter how selfish it might be to disturb you. I'm only human, he thinks.

"Hey, beautiful," he says. You don't hear him.

Steve bends at the waist to unlace his shoes before stepping onto the plush carpeting of your room. He weaves between vases and skinny buckets, repurposed cookware and every mug you own, worried that one wrong move will domino your intricate arrangements and spill flowers everywhere.

You catch sight of him before he's made it to your side. You flinch as he suspected you would, only a small jump but a jump nonetheless.

Steve's face creases in sympathy as you pull off your headphones, orange foam padding around your neck. "I'm sorry," he says, expecting you to be at least a little peeved at his sneaking. "I knocked, I swear."

You abandon your book carelessly and are only slightly kinder to your Walkman as you tug the headphones from your neck.

"Steve," you say, smiling.

"That's me. Hey."

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, white sheets rumpled in your wake as you scramble to your feet. Steve doesn't know who does what first but he opens his arms and you've opened yours and you fit into the circle of his embrace like you were made to.

"Sorry to scare you," he says.

You're not as confident as he is. Where Steve throws his arms over your shoulders, quick to press his mouth to the skin of your forehead, your hands draw tentative lines up his back.

To be touched so carefully is numbing in the best way. Steve wonders how his affection for you can continue to grow, more when you laugh half-breathless into his chest and look up, pinning him with your bright gaze.

"That's okay," you say, your happiness to see him palpable. It makes his chest hurt.

Steve puts some space between you to hold you at arm's length, one hand clasping your shoulder and the other following the curve of your neck.

He feels almost too happy to speak, like the words won't come out right. You seem to feel similarly, smiling wide, your lips pressed together tightly.

"I missed you," he says finally. Your reaction emboldens him; your eyes crease with pleasure and he has to duck down for a kiss.

Just one, pressed chastely to the skin left of your cupid's bow. You lift your chin in reaction, your hands searching up towards his shoulder blades.

"I missed you too," you say.

He decides to push his luck and kiss you properly. Your lips are warm under his and your cheek is aflame under his hand as he cradles your face.

"Haven't been lying out in the sun again, have you?" he asks as he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open.

"Huh? No, I've been reading inside all day."

"Good. You'll get sick, you sunbathe so much," he chides with no real heat.

He squeezes your face mildly and you steal another quick kiss. Steve would let you steal as many as you want to no matter the duration, but you stick to just one.

"Are you hungry?" you ask. You don't wait for an answer, skirting around him.

His hands miss your skin as soon as you're out of reach. He follows you to the kitchen like a lost dog hungry for scraps – scraps of your voice in the shadow of your exhale, any small flash of your skin, the back of your wrist as you pull open the refrigerator door. Steve situates himself by the sink so he can see your face. Your arms quickly grow heavy with fresh vegetables and a precarious china dish, a familiar carafe slipping in your fingers.

"Here," he mutters, reaching for the glass carafe with both hands.

"Thank you," you say, giggling. "Thought I was gonna drop it."

You set everything down on the clean counter. The sun kisses your skin where it shines golden-orange through the window. A bouquet of tulips sits in the sill, thin petals translucent and bright like the bulbs are made up of sweet maraschino cherries.

"I would've caught it."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Super fast reflexes. LaRusso style," he says, putting down your carafe. Fruit slices and rose petals bob on the water's surface.

"The Karate Kid?" you ask, pushing up your sleeves.

He smiles as you walk towards him. "Exactly. You like that movie?"

You turn on the faucet and wash your hands without looking, your eyes drawn to his face. "I loved that movie. I've only seen it twice, though. Once at the movies, once with Dustin."

"You watched it with Dustin?" he asks.

Your eyes flit between the sink and his face as you turn off the faucet and shake your wet hands over the basin. "Yeah, and his mom. She's really nice, you know?"

"She's a real treasure. It's her kid I'm not too sure about."

You laugh and he loves it, less when you flick your still-wet hands at him and pattern him in tap water.

"Stop, idiot," he protests, leaning away from you.

"It's raining, babe. I don't control the weather."

"Sure."

You grin over your shoulder and flounce to the counter where your wooden chopping board resides. He's desperate to be close to you but doesn't want to look it.

It's too early to show her how much of a total loser I am, he thinks, turning to the sink and washing his hands so he can help you make dinner and steal some closeness.

"Did you have a crush on him?" he asks.

"Dustin?" you ask, horrified.

Steve laughs and rubs the slippery bar of soap between his palms. "No, weirdo, Daniel LaRusso. The Karate Kid."

"Nah, Mister Miyagi was more my type."

Steve drops the bar of soap into the basin and struggles to pick it back up, only pausing in his panic when he hears your self-satisfied giggling. It's infectious.

"That's so sick. Dude was ninety years old," he says, rinsing the suds off.

"I'm kidding!"

You're still laughing to yourself when he joins you. You've already chopped the inedible tops off of three long carrots and peeled them. You start to cut them into uniform batons, your quick peeling and knife work both impressive and daunting to Steve, who's only just weaned himself off of a steady high school diet of TV dinners and chips.

He shakes his hands at you. Flecks of water hit you and shine on your skin like the fine mist of morning dew, a dampened flower. You smell like one, though Steve supposes that's inevitable when you're sleeping surrounded by a crush of petals every night.

"Can I help?" he asks.

You blow a raspberry. "I should kick you out."

He flicks more water at you and you hide your face in your shoulder, the soft skin of your cheek pulled cruelly.

"Don't hide."

"Stop flicking me."

"It's raining, babe. I don't control the weather," he says dryly.

Finely spritzed, you open your eyes just enough to see him through your lashes, smiling like you wish you weren't. Steve holds his hands up in surrender, mostly because they're dry enough now that any flickage is negligent, and because you're much too pretty to be hiding away. The sun has begun to set, its descent marked by a gaussian blur spreading across the countertops and cabinets, your arms blanketed in a glow. Steve finds your face practically dietific to begin with – the light makes you something else entirely.

He wants to say something too heartfelt, say, Fuck, you're so pretty.

He's not that brave.

"You want a drink?" he asks.

"Yes please. You know where the cups are?"

He grabs two glass cups from the cabinet othweise pillaged for makeshift vases to your left and you cut the celery, a small lull in conversation filled only by the crisp crunch of your preparations and the slosh of Steve's pouring. The flower petals have bled their pigments into the carafe's cold water and turned it a transparent vermillion, something so quietly inordinate that he can't not mention it.

"The water's purple, babe," he says.

"Huh?" you ask. You hold the cutting board aloft, your knife guiding chopped vegetables into a shiny metal colander.

"The water," he says, punctuating his claim with a sharp click as he puts your glass down in front of you.

You discard your knife distractedly. "Oh. It must've been the rose petals."

"Can we still drink it?"

"Sure we can. Rosewater is really good for you. Though I'm not sure if this counts as rosewater, actually, I think you have to steep the petals in hot water first."

You shrug your shoulders and bring your glass to your mouth.

Steve frowns. "Are you sure?" he asks worriedly. He doesn't want you to get sick, especially from flowers he brought you.

You get a crease between your eyebrows, lips pursed quizzically. "I'm sure. You worry too much, Stevie," you say.

It's like being struck. You've never called him that before.

The nickname had sounded easy as breathing for you to say and had felt easier, felt right, like you'd used it a hundred times before.

He laughs, says, "Fine, but if you turn purple don't say I didn't warn you," and proceeds to work himself into a poorly contained frenzy.

He takes the colander to the sink and washes the carrot and celery sticks more thoroughly than he needs to whilst he composes himself. He listens with ears made keen by his racing heart as you turn on the stove. The fan hums. There's a loud crackling as you peel back the aluminum foil covering a medium sized casserole dish.

"I forgot to ask you, you like buffalo wings, right?"

He turns off the faucet and almost misses your question, too busy thinking So she called you Stevie, are you twelve? Get a hold of yourself, you-

"What?"

"I can make something else, if you don't."

Steve shakes the colander to drain any excess water as he reassures you. "No, that's okay. That's perfect. I love wings, and I'll love them double if you're the one making them." After all, you make a mean BLT.

The oven door swings open and he turns in time to watch you bend at the waist and insert the dish of chicken wings, your eyes narrowed. Adorable.

You straighten up and dust your hands off, bumping the door closed with your hip. "Awesome. Here, let me-" You take the colander from his hand like you're going to whiz away and then evidently change your mind, stuttering to a jolting stop. "Thank you," you tell him earnestly.

"You're welcome. You did all the hard work," he says, caught off guard.

"Super hard work, cutting up some carrot sticks," you say, mock-agreeably.

Steve reaches out to pinch your side. "Just because you made it look easy doesn't mean it is. It would've taken me double the time to make something, and it would've been, like, a grease fest," he says. "You already made the chicken, too, so that's more hard work you're not thinking about."

"The chicken marinades itself," you admonish lightly. You step on toes to kiss the high point of his cheek. "But thank you."

You turn to tip your veggie sticks into a bowl with a quarter inch of water at the bottom. Steve prods your kiss mark unthinkingly, the skin tingling from a combination of your gifted kiss and the affectionate tone you'd used.

"I got all kinds of dip. Hummus, artichoke and spinach, tahini, ranch. Do you like those?" you ask hopefully.

If he didn't he'd try and find a way. "Who doesn't like ranch?"

"I'll make fries too, okay?"

He really, really likes you.

Steve still looks kind of silly eating at your small kitchen table. You're in the seat that's crammed against the refrigerator and he's in the opposite. You're so close that your calves keep touching, often enough that you both forgo apologies in favour of sending the other a small smile. Less of an 'I'm sorry,' and more of a 'We touched again,' a confirmation that he's real and you're real and you're eating a home cooked meal that you made together.

He's so handsome, so ridiculously lovely, and the food is good but not good enough to keep your attention. Not when Steve takes a sip of water and his arm moves, the muscle beneath his skin shifts, pulls taut, and his shirt tightens around his bicep and you're just as hopeless as you were the very first time you'd invited him in.

He's saying something and it must be pretty funny because he's laughing, a chesty, giggling thing that sounds boyishly happy, like he just can't help it. You're not sure what he's laughing at but it's enough to set you off, infectious as it is.

"So Robin's in the back pretending to search for this movie that doesn't exist, and I'm thinking, shit, maybe I should call the police. Because he's got both hands in his pockets and, whaddya know, one pocket is like bulging out."

"Steve?" you ask, trying to sound forceful, befuddled that he's laughing at all. "Someone came into the store with a gun?"

His laugh peters off. "No," he says reassuringly. "Klondike bar."

He chews through a big mouthful of celery and you dissolve into giggles.

Cleaning up with Steve ends up being just as fun as cooking. He stands at your side with a hand towel wiping off dishes as you wash them, hip to hip.

"I can wash them," he says.

"That's okay."

You pass him a wet plate. He wipes it dry and sets it to the side. It could only be five minutes of this before you're done. Weirdly, you wish it had taken a little longer.

It's nice to spend time with him.

"I was thinking you could come over to my place tomorrow, if you wanted to."

Your heart flutters and you're hit with the realisation that you might get to do dishes with him tomorrow, and again, that today isn't a one off. That Steve likes you enough to kiss you and buy you flowers and invite you over.

"I've never been to your house," you say.

"I know. It's supposed to be really hot out tomorrow until seven. I thought you could sunbathe for an hour and I could keep an eye on you, you know. We can get takeout, listen to music," he continues, his voice soft, a melodic cadence to his suggestions.

Why is he trying to sell you on it? You hand him the last plate and twist, holding your dripping hands in the basin.

"I'd love to," you say, smiling. "Though I resent the idea that I need to be supervised."

"I just don't want all those brains to turn to mush." He puts the plate down on top of the others and reaches for your hands without saying anything, eyes on your face as he dries off your fingers gently. "Though you were super adorable when you had heat stroke. All clingy and giggly," he teases.

"Heat exhaustion," you correct. You feel like there's water in your ears.

"Mh-hm."

When your hands are to his satisfaction he swings the towel over his shoulder and takes them into his own, your fingers hooked gently over his. He rubs the fingernail of your index finger and then moves up, smoothing a path over your knuckles. He arrives at your pinky finger and wraps his index finger around it, massaging the length of it with the pad of his thumb.

"Are they still hurting?" he asks, hushed.

"A little bit. Not really, though. It's like after a splinter."

He holds your hand open, palm bared, his thumb pressed to the bottom of your last three fingers as he bends to look at your fingertips. Every touch, every detail, every movement he makes feels urgent to you, your heart racing fast as a mouse's.

"Poor girl," he mumbles to himself. He looks up and sees what must look similar to panic on your face. "Are you sure they're not hurting you? They look sore."

You're gonna say Yes, I'm sure, but he straightens up and brings your hand to his lips before you can muster the strength. He kisses your smattering of tiny injuries and grins when he's done, your entire body awash with a dizzying pleasure.

His hair is falling in his face. You take your kiss-warmed hand from his grip to tuck the longer strands behind his ear. Your heartbeat plays loud. You worry he can hear it.

You stall with your index finger shaking over his skin. Steve covers your hand with his, the look in his eyes unreadable, and you know he's going to kiss you.

You shut your eyes. His breath warms your lips as he closes in, his nose sliding against yours slowly. Your anticipation is a hand closing around your throat, at first a welcome touch and then dizzying breathlessness, an aching for the brush of his lips. He squeezes your hand where it cradles his cheek.

"Breathe," he whispers in bemusement. "Breathe, baby."

You suck in a breath and lift your chin as Steve knocks your nose with his and crosses the distance, his lips parted just slightly. Your head moves back under his kiss, your eyes screwed too tight. Steve takes your hand from his face and guides it over the slope of his shoulder until you're cupping his neck, his fingertips trailing down the length of your arm and moving under, palm to your shoulder blade. He pulls you in, makes the softest little sound against your lips that tickles madly and has a warmth like the setting sun filling your chest.

He kisses slow and sweet, his lips a softness against yours. You can feel as he starts to smile, as he takes your face into his hand, almost pulling at your skin in efforts to be impossibly nearer.

He laughs first, a huff that fans over your twin smile. You can't help but join in as you search up, ardent and excited, laughing into his open mouth until every kiss is a struggle.

"Y/N," he says. It doesn't even sound like your name. He could've said babe or baby or sweetheart and it would've burned the same.

"Do you have to go home?" you ask knowingly, reluctantly opening your eyes.

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.

It's getting late, a warm Thursday evening becoming night. The street lamps outside burn yellow-white in the darkening sky and the flowers on the sill have lost their shine. Steve is the brightest thing in the room.

He checks his watch and frowns. "I probably should."

"But I'll see you tomorrow?" you check.

"Did you wanna stay the night? I'm not working Saturday."

You have the first thought that most girls your age might have at a new love asking that question: sex. For a moment, a split second of a moment, Did you wanna stay the night? becomes Do you wanna have sex with me?

You give him a guilty smile and he mistakes it for something else. He says, "You don't have to, I can drive you home. And uh, you know, I would…" You bring your hand back to his face. "We wouldn't do anything you don't wanna do."

"I know," you say quickly. "Yeah, I wanna stay the night." Which is scary to admit. Scary to want.

Whether anything happens or it doesn't, you want to go.

You walk Steve out and he kisses you goodnight chastely. You watch him all the way to his car and wave as he drives away, standing in the doorway until his tail lights are a mere suggestion of white in the distance, small and bright as a pearly star.

Robin shrieks as her chair reclines back as far as it can. "Shit, why does it go back this far?"

Steve is more than tired from a full day of work and while he loves Robin to the point of dying for her, he can't handle stupid questions. His short fuse is further shortened by missing you, and he groans.

"You fucking reclined it all the way?"

Steve watches in the rear view as she raises her eyebrows and hugs herself with both arms. "It went down too easy, is all I'm saying."

"That's all?" he asks.

He knows exactly what she's implying and he refuses to feed into it, even when she hums to herself happily. Her happiness lasts for only a few seconds before she's springing up and giving herself whiplash.

"You haven't actually fucked in this seat, right?"

"Christ, Robin."

Her nose wrinkles. "Have you?"

"No! No, I haven't done anything in here… in a while. And me and Y/N haven't-" He bites his tongue.

"You haven't?" she asks. There's no teasing to be detected in her voice, only curiosity.

He keeps his eyes on the road but his thoughts travel elsewhere. You're so close he convinces himself for a second that he can smell your sweet floral scent, a hundred different flowers clinging to your skin. He lets himself sink further, imagining the feeling of your cheek under his hand and the softness of your skin and fine hairs, the shape of your eyes as he leans in.

"Loverboy?" Robin asks expectantly.

Steve clears his throat. "What?"

"Ew, you're being disgusting."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to," she says, and then laughs. "In deep, huh?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious! I'm serious, you like her. And it's nice," she draws the word out hesitantly, "to see you happy. I guess. After I broke your heart, and all."

He doesn't blush like he might have before. Steve had liked Robin, a lot, and it was easy to understand why: she's the first real friend he's ever had. He's more than over his crush now, platonic (with a capital 'P') suits them well.

"Thanks, Robs," he mutters, rolling his eyes.

"You're welcome." She whistles. "So, you haven't fucked?"

Steve turns his face. "Don't you think that's, like, a private thing?"

"I'm your best friend."

"Y/N is an entire other person who isn't your best friend."

"I'm not gonna tell anybody."

Steve knows that. He sighs to himself, conflicted. He doesn't wanna kiss and tell but he does need advice. "She's staying over tonight."

"Ah, huzzah!" Robin cheers. Steve worries his eyes might get stuck inside his head from all the rolling. "And you're gonna…"

He chews his lip. "I don't think so. I think I scared the shit out of her when I asked her to spend the night."

"I doubt that, she still said yes. But, you know. Not all of us lose our V-card when we're in junior year."

He hadn't even thought about that. "Shit. Having a girlfriend is terrifying."

Robin laughs and throws the seat back up. "If she's scared, it might not even be about hooking up. You've been together for, what, a week?"

"Two weeks today."

Robin nods thoughtfully and then shrugs. "Forget about sex and everything and just have fun."

"I'm not a nympho." He isn't. He doesn't care if you want to hook up or not (though care might be indelicate – he won't lie and say he hasn't thought about it).

"I know. I'm just saying, there's no point worrying about if you will or won't."

He takes the turn onto Robin's street. Her house comes into view, and he suddenly realises, "I wasn't worried until you brought it up!"

"Then forget I said anything!" she shouts back, laughing.

Steve laughs too as he pulls up at the curb outside of Robin's house.

"It's fine," he says decidedly. He's still worrying about it because if you do want to hook up he's not exactly in practice right now, but underneath it is that building anticipation, an excitement. "Fuck, she's so fucking pretty, Robin."

"Sure is, idiot," Robin agrees, unbuckling and kicking open the door. "Wear a rubber or your kids will be pretty, too."

She closes the door with a smug smile.

"You're awful!" he calls at her retreating figure. She waves over her shoulder and doesn't look back.

Steve drops his head into the wheel and startles himself when it beeps.

By the time he's pulling up outside of his house he's forgotten all his sex-related nerves, any anxiety occluded by a want to see you. He rushes to clean up the huge mess he's made over the week in the kitchen and the smaller mess in the living room, soda cans and take out and all the gross things he'd rather die than have you see.

He throws open every window and heads out to the back yard to make sure the pool is actually swimmable. The sun is high but falling. The day's most punishing heat is over. Perfectly safe for sunbathing.

He doesn't have anything fancy but he fills a jug with water and tops it with badly cut orange slices to cool in the fridge while he waits for you.

Steve stretches, smells himself, realises he smells like sweat and checks his watch in alarm. Your visit is fast approaching but if he does it quickly he can shower before you get here.

He's not right. He's still in the shower when you knock the door. Steve almost kills himself as he scrambles over wet tiles. He's still basically soaking as he drags his clean clothes on, hair sopping and quickly saturating the neck of his shirt.

You smile when he opens the door, though your smile quickly fades. "I'm sorry, were you showering? I know I'm early, I just wanted to see you."

You look like you always do – pretty, so pretty, your hair a little messy, your shirt crinkled at the bottom, the slit in your skirt showing a tantalising stripe of your thigh. A breezy, thin outfit for the hot weather.

Steve couldn't say why but he needs to kiss you badly. He takes your shoulder into his hand to hold you in place and kisses the corner of your smile, your cheek, the small stripe under your earlobe. He lingers there for longer than the others, feeling the ever-present heat of your skin beneath his lips. He presses a second kiss over the first and then pulls away.

"Don't be sorry," he says. He pats your face. "I'm glad you're early. I wanted to see you more, I swear."

"You make everything a competition," you grumble, though your eyes evidence your bliss.

Steve leads you into the living room and you drop your backpack onto the couch. The sight of it makes him fawn, because you really are staying the night and you look cute and you'd wanted to see him. It's enough to make him ecstatic. It likely shows on his face.

You turn on your heels, taking it all in. "You have a really nice house, Steve."

"I'd say thank you, but it's all my parents'."

"Where are they?" you ask.

Where are they usually? He doesn't really know. "Chicago, I think? My dad's on business and mom always goes with him, so…"

You turn your eyes from the open patio door and back to Steve where he stands in the middle of the room towel drying his hair. "Lucky me, I get you all to myself," you murmur.

"Do you wanna take your shoes off?" he asks. "There's water in the fridge. Are you hungry?"

You peek up at home where you've bent down to unstrap your sandals and smile. "I'm good, Stevie," you say softly.

When you've stepped out of both sandals you hold them by the straps and they dangle from your hand, swaying with your steps as you walk towards him.

You look up at him and tilt your head to one side. Always charming, Steve's fondness for sky rockets.

"Are you okay?" you ask, a murmur, raising your hand to his bicep. Your fingers slip under his sleeve. "You seem frazzled. Long day?"

It felt endless, knowing that you'd be waiting for him.

"I'm fine. I'm good. I'm great, actually. Got a whole night with my girl."

"And tomorrow, too," you say, sounding as happy as he feels.

"What are we gonna do with it all?" he says teasingly.

Again, a flash of that nervous smile. He hadn't meant to insinuate anything at all. He's about to clarify when you bring your hand to his collar and kiss him.

Steve really likes your hands, he's fascinated by them, the way you move them and the way they feel, their tentative but tender touch as you feel along the ridge of his collar bone. You come to a stuttering pause as he kisses you harder, the wet of your tongue addictive as he opens you up.

He takes your face into both hands and pushes your face to one side so he can move in closer, thumbs careless where they press into your cheeks. You taste like something sweet and the sound you make is sweeter as he dedicates himself to your top lip, a quivering breath as he slows.

He tries not to feel smug at the lost glaze in your eyes when they blink open.

Your bottom lip shines. He wipes it clean with his thumb. "You wanna go sunbathe now?" he asks mildly.

You nod like he thought you would, slow, but then there's a sudden clarity on your face. "I brought you something."

You move out of his reach and he follows. You're only stepping towards the couch where your backpack rests, unzipping it and in no rush as you pull your pajamas out and lay them on the cushion. He tries very hard to pretend he hasn't noticed your underwear, a pair of pink lacy panties, but he thinks maybe you can tell as you turn to him with a tupperware of cookies in your hands.

"More flower shortbread?" he asks happily. "You spoil me."

"I think you're someone who deserves to be spoiled."

Steve's mouth goes dry. He holds his hands out for the tupperware and hugs it to his chest, throwing a hand around your shoulders to tug you close. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you," he says.

"You're welcome."

He takes your hand and pulls you out into the backyard. You beam, your head tilting back to take in the warmth of the fading sun.

Steve drags two sun loungers close together and you waste no time in stretching out on one.

You bloom.

There's no other word for it. You unfurl like the petals on your beloved flowers. Your body relaxes completely. Steve reaches across the gap to take your hand again and they hang between your languid bodies.

You're smiling as you balance your red shiny Walkman across your chest and click play, adjusting the volume until the feminine scratch of Cyndi Lauper echoes over the concrete space of his backyard. You close your eyes soon after, and Steve knows he might not get as much conversation out of you as he craves but it's worth it to see you like this, to hold your hand.

He struggles to open your tupperware with one hand but doesn't consider letting you go, eyebrows furrowing at the stubborn lid.

When it clicks it's loud and he inhales fast, worried the entire thing is gonna topple off of his chest and your perfect shortbread biscuits will be destroyed. Flower petals adorn the top. Steve picks them off while you're not looking – they're beautiful, of course, and don't taste like much, but the texture is super weird.

"How was work?" you ask.

He takes a big bite of shortbread. "It was fine. I mean, it was fucking boring as hell. We watched Back to the Future again."

"I've never seen that movie."

"Never?"

"No. Is it good?"

He squeezes your fingers and pushes the rest of the shortbread into his mouth. It's not too sweet. You've dusted the tops with fine sugar that melts in his mouth and the crumbly texture is awesome, better than any store bought cookies he's ever tried.

He swallows and lets his head fall back, greedy enough to pick up a second one. "Wanna hear a story?"

You turn your head towards him and your eyes crack open. "A good one?"

"Depends on your politics."

You close your eyes. "Tell me."

"The first time I saw Back to the Future was at the Starcourt mall with Robin. We were high out of our minds, total whitey's. And I had a concussion, so I was… worse."

Your eyes open fast. Your one shoulder lifts, like you might have to protect him from something. "What?" you ask, frowning.

He pulls your hand towards him, a tug, not to come closer but more in an everything is okay, kind of way.

"It's fine. Anyways, we laughed our asses off and left before the end. The first time we watched it sober I thought it was the wrong movie."

"Why did you have a concussion?"

He shakes the tupperware at you until you take one. Only when you've bitten into it does he answer, though he's not entirely truthful, "It was like, you know how there was a fire?" he asks. You nod. "Well, everything in starcourt was fucking janky, and we went down this one elevator shaft and- concussion." He explains without explaining. He doesn't lie.

No way is he ready to tell you about all the weird shit he's had to deal with. Not yet. He doesn't wanna scare you off or scare you at all, and the upside down shit is fucking terrifying.

You take his explanation without any suspicion and he feels a little guilty.

"You should get workers comp," you say, brows pinched.

He chuckles and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. Being cared about like this is so weird, he thinks. How mad and worried you are over something that happened before you knew him makes him feel hot, something electric and melting on top of his chest.

"You wanna be my lawyer?" he asks, grinning.

You reach for another shortbread. "I wouldn't know the first thing about it."

"You'd look cute in a suit, though."

"Shush," you mumble. You roll your thumb over your shortbread until the flower petals fall off. "They're so pretty but they feel so weird. Maybe I shouldn't put them on there."

He looks at the scattered flower petals on the floor to his left where you can't see them. "Nah, I like 'em."

You glow. "If you like them I guess I'll leave them on there."

"That's generous. You'd never be a good lawyer."

"Lawyers can be generous! They do stuff for free, right? Pro-bono. Like that one movie last year, with the guy who kills his wife, but he doesn't kill his wife, but he totally does, um…"

"Jagged Edge."

"Jagged Edge! Exactly."

"Was she pro bono?" he asks sceptically.

"Maybe not," you say, and laugh. "That movie sucked."

"Better than Back to the Future."

You choke on a laugh and pull your hand out of his to dust yourself off. He misses your touch but doesn't complain, clicking the lid back onto your tupperware and hiding them under the lounger from the heat. The sunshine is amazing, not too suffocating but definitely warm enough to melt him into jelly. He'd been a little worried about wearing shorts rather than jeans but you hadn't mentioned anything.

He combs his hair out of his face and wonders if it looks awful. It probably does. Only the strands closest to his neck feel chilly with damp, half dried by the sunshine.

"Steve," you say shyly.

He turns back to you and you're sitting up, one leg off the lounger.

"What?"

"Can I… you don't mind if I take off my shirt, do you?" you ask.

He's quick to assure you. "No way, beautiful. Throw it off."

You huff a laugh and cross your arms. Steve's fascinated by the way you take off your shirt, how you've dragged the front over your face where he would've grabbed the back and pulled indelicately. Your back arches and your chest moves up as it comes off.

You're wearing some sort of animal print bikini top underneath, a cheetah or a panther or something. Steve watches the curves of your breasts rise as you breathe in and then snaps his gaze to your face, guilty. You aren't looking at him, busy fiddling with the Walkman in your lap.

"Do you have anything you wanna listen to?" you ask him offhandedly. "I brought this and A Night at the Opera, but if there's something else you wanted to-"

"Night at the Opera?"

"Queen?" you ask.

"Like Hammer to Fall?" he asks.

You turn to face him entirely, skirt ruffled by a gentle breeze. "That's their new one. Night at The Opera is from, like, '76? '75? It has that really long one. And there was," you start giggling, your words all jumpy and honeyed, "there's one called 'I'm in Love with my Car.'"

"Sounds like an album for me. I'll go get it."

You spring up, something he can't read on your face. You look fucking insane shirtless, all soft and shiny, the lightest sheen of sweat illuminating the hills and dips, the slope of your shoulder, the lengths of your arms. "No, I'll do it. I'll get the water at the same time."

He watches you pass back into the house from over his shoulder. "It's in the fridge!" he calls.

"I guessed!"

He wonders for a second why you'd sounded nervous before remembering your underwear. His cheeks go a similar colour as he tries not to think about it, only he can't not think about it. They had not constituted a great deal of fabric, and then he's wondering how much the current ones are made up of and feeling guilty for that too.

She's my girlfriend, he thinks. I can think about these things. Not, like, obsessively. But in passing. God, she's fucking beautiful. He descends into a panicked reasoning.

Steve scrubs his face with his hand and looks out over the pool. It's been a while since they used it. He can't say he wants to use it after last time, and he definitely wouldn't consider any night time swimming but if you want to splash around in there in the daylight hours he's not gonna stop you.

You flounce back onto the patio with the cold jug in your hands and two glasses hugged to your chest, the cassette in the other. "Here, Stevie, can you-"

"Yeah." He stands up. He takes the cassette and jug from you and you manoeuvre the glasses into your hands. "Swap?" he asks.

You swap one glass for the cassette and the two of you sit down in tandem. Steve pours water for you both as you take Cyndi Lauper out, the cold a blessing. He holds his glass to his face and sighs.

"It's still hot even though it's late," you say knowingly.

"Endless Indiana summer." You're struggling with the cassette, your lips puckered in confusion. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I think I jammed it."

He watches you struggle with the lip that doesn't wanna open. "Pass it over?" he offers.

You pass it as soon as he asks, moving to sit by his side. He's very gentle with the small machine that you've once or twice affectionately monikered your 'baby'. He doesn't know a lot about tech and doesn't know why he offered. It had felt automatic. You had a problem and he just wanted to fix it.

The button that usually opens the door is pressed down, but the door is closed. He digs his fingernail under the button and pulls it up until it pops back into place and tests the play button.

The cassette starts to spin.

"Sticky button," he says easily.

Your thigh presses into his. "You're a genius, Harrington."

"That's Steve to you, babe."

You laugh and shift ever closer, until your arm is pressed to his arm, both perspiring lightly and too warm to really be touching like this. He should pull away, or you should. One of you should.

"Whatever you say…Harrington," you murmur through the corner of your mouth, smiling so nicely that he can't be bothered to argue.

He tucks his hand between your arm and your naked chest and pulls it toward him. You drop your head against his shoulder and turn the Walkman in your hand.

"How's your brain? Jello?" he asks lightly, flexing his fingers against the crook of your elbow and resting his head on top of yours carefully

"Jello pudding pops," you say wistfully. "You remember those? I haven't had one of those in years. Think they still make 'em?"

Your question is out of the blue. Enough to worry him some more.

He brings the arm furthest from you to your head and brushes his pinky finger up from your eyebrows to your hairline. "You feel warm."

"I'm perfectly fine, nelly."

"I'm allowed to be nervous. You were kind of out of it last time."

"We've barely been out here for thirty minutes," you argue with barely any heat.

His hand smooths down to your neck and then back up. He pulls your cheek back with his thumb and then drops his hand. "Just tell me if you feel sick, okay?"

"I promise I'm fine."

"Jeez," he groans, his lips barely parted. A fond annoyance. "Think a guy was asking the world."

You let your weight lean on him, the hand of the arm he's hugging moving around his back until you've found his side. You move it up and down sluggishly.

Like this, Steve has a perfect view of your lovely shoulder. One hidden behind, the other bared.

"You're beautiful," he says.

You tense up and he hates it, bringing his hand to your coveted shoulder. He rubs a line up the soft slope, the curve of your neck and then down again until you've relaxed.

"You… can't even see my face," you murmur. Your breath is a small hot patch into his sleeve.

"I don't need to see your face," he says, feigning a frustration he doesn't feel. "Think I haven't stared at you enough to know? And I was talking about your shoulders."

You laugh and drag your face up. "My shoulders?"

"Well I can only see one. But I assume the second is just as nice."

"You're weird," you say.

There's a certain weakness to it. He thinks maybe you need to hear him say it again. He doesn't hesitate.

"You have nice shoulders."

You shake your head almost imperceptibly. Steve takes the player from your lap and turns it down by half, putting it on the floor with the water jug.

Your legs poke into his as he encourages you towards him.

"Come on," he says, "I don't bite, babe. 'Less you ask me to."

"You'd like that, you sicko."

He laughs and really bundles you up, a too warm hug where your face presses to his shoulder and his hovers above yours. He squeezes and drags his hand down your arm, rough but not cruel.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Shh, I'm busy."

You've wrapped your arms around his waist loosely. Steve tugs your thigh over his until your legs are overlapped, as close as you can be while sitting side by side like this. He'd pull you completely into his lap if he thought you'd let him.

He can feel your smile.

His hand soothes a kinder path over your arm before he gives in. Shyly at first, Steve drops his mouth to your shoulder and leaves it there, barely a kiss.

Don't be a loser, he thinks.

Cautious but sincere kisses. He drops them in a uniform line down your arm, your sunned skin hot under his lips. Kisses not meant to be anything but kisses, little worships, a scattering of affection. Indiscriminately. His mouth passes over blemishes, beauty marks, the fine hairs at the top of your arm. You curl tighter around his waist.

He kisses back up the hill of your shoulder and his lips part. He sucks very, very gently, kissing the same spot until he's adorned your skin with shiny crescent moons. He doesn't know how long he kisses you for. He doesn't want to stop, or pause, or do anything but this.

His hands have moved to your back. One toys with the tie of your bikini top unthinkingly, the other rubbing your shoulder. You're limp in his arms.

He rubs his nose against your shoulder for long, quiet minutes. Perfumed by a thousand flowers and yet you still smell like yourself underneath it, your skin an indescribable scent and secret, something he selfishly doesn't ever want to share. Steve can't make himself move from you and you don't seem inclined either.

He groans. "Alright, you hungry?" he asks.

Your fingers stretch across his back. "Maybe."

"I'll call Mazzio's. What do you want?"

"Anything."

Steve pulls back to give you a fierce look. "Just tell me. I gotta know your favourite toppings. S'like, a boyfriend thing."

"A boyfriend thing?" you repeat, smiling wide.

You tell him what you like and he squeezes your shoulder, disappearing into the house to call the pizza place. When he returns you've laid out in his lounger, your eyes closed like you're sleeping. The worst of the heat has fallen away and cloud cover threatens to give you the chills.

"Come inside?" he asks from the doorway.

"No… come and give me another hug. It was nice."

"I bet it was," he mutters, a feigned irritation that's completely overturned by how quickly he does what you tell him to.

The lounger isn't big enough for both of you. Steve's already laughing as he climbs on top of you, careful but not really as he crushes the fabric of your skirt with his knees and thighs and wraps his arms tightly around your neck, rubbing your foreheads together roughly.

"This what you meant?" he asks through a grin.

"No."

Steve's bed smells of him unequivocally. You're trying to withhold from lying down and sniffing, wondering curiously if that's something you're 1) allowed to do, and 2) supposed to want to do. Is it odd to like the way he smells as much as you do? That familiar bergamot, the almost smokey undertone of lavender, cedar. It makes you feel doped up. Your happiness has you heavy-limbed.

"You head up, okay? I'm just gonna lock the door," he'd said.

So here you are, backpack at your feet. After greasy takeout and an entire movie holding hands you think you're probably as content as it's possible to be in this body and in this life.

You hear Steve's footsteps up the stairs and lie down flat against his pillows, turning your face to sniff indulgently, the fabric cold under your cheek.

He walks in and he's all rumpled clothes and smiles, his hair in total disarray like you've never seen. As soon as he's crossed the threshold he's pulling off his polo and you think Oh fuck, that was quicker than I imagined this happening. Your heart feels fit to explode but he's barely looking at you, his sights set on the huge oak dresser at the end of the room.

You watch his arms as he walks past, your heart a hummingbird as Steve says, "Did you pick a movie?"

You gawp at what you can see of his naked chest, the side of a pec. You've never seen him undressed like this. Your distraction leaves you quiet, and Steve turns to you with a soft looking t-shirt in hand.

"Baby?"

"I didn't," you say, your voice scratchy. "Uh, sorry. I just laid down and…forgot."

He bends forward a little before he puts the shirt on and his entire chest moves. You can't help but look at it. Steve has… Steve has pecs. Pillowy-

"Y/N?"

"Sorry," you say, blinking hard.

"Are you tired or something?" He turns back to the dresser and opens a different drawer and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. "Don't look," he says teasingly.

You avert your eyes.

"Do you wanna change?" he asks when he's done, leaning back against the dresser with his arms crossed.

You don't know what Steve wants, if he wants to hook up or if he doesn't, and you don't mind either way. (A bad lie – you really, really want to.) (But it's cool if he doesn't want to.)

You won't be upset if he doesn't make a move, but if he does you'd prefer to be less sweaty.

"Can I shower? Not to wash my hair, just…"

"Sure you can."

Steve holds out his hand and you take it, grabbing your backpack as he pulls you off of the bed and into the bathroom. He drops your hand as fast as he'd taken it to open the cabinet under the sink. "Listen, the shower doesn't work. Well, it does, but the hot water only gets lukewarm and I don't know how to fix it. But the bath works fine. Uh…" He pulls a basket of girly toiletries out. "You can use whatever you want, my stuff or my mom's, whatever."

You stand by the tub. "She won't mind?"

"It's fine. I'll have to get you stuff next time you stay over." He moves you to the side with his hand on your hip and you look up as he moves down, turning the faucet. He holds his hand under the stream and messes with the temperature until he's satisfied. "Sorry. I should've thought about all of this before I asked you to spend the night."

"It's okay," you say quietly. "I didn't think about any of that stuff either. It's like I said, I- I just wanted to see you. Wasn't thinking about shower gel."

You laugh awkwardly. It ebbs when he grabs your shoulder and gives you a little shake. "Half as much as I wanted to see you."

He ends the shake with a good rub of his thumb.

"Want me to get in with you?" he asks with a smirk.

You laugh and start shoving at his chest playfully. "Get out," you whine.

He puts his hands up in surrender and you close the door between you, unsurprised when his voice rings out against it. "You come here often?" he asks.

"Do you?" you ask. Your voice sounds loud.

You strip off your clothes and your bikini top and slip into the water.

"Every morning for the last twenty years."

"What do you recommend?"

"The three in one."

You gawp and giggle, horrified at his suggestion. You know he's lying, his hair's too nice to use something like that. There's a few seconds of silence where you shudder at the new heat and rub yourself down.

"Which shower gel is yours?" you ask, looking between bottles unsure.

"Just use whatever you want. What movie d'you wanna watch?"

"Can't you choose?" you ask, bringing each gel to your nose until you find the one that smells like him. You lather the soap between your palms and run it over your body.

"I picked the last one."

"And you're good at it!" You reason, laughing loudly at your own joke. Steve's reluctant chuckles echo from the other side of the door.

You go to ask, Why are you still standing there, dork? But you're afraid that asking will make him move, and you like him too much to want that to happen.

"You were half asleep, how do you know it was good?"

"You were rubbing my hand!" you argue.

"You liked that?" he asks. His tone is honest.

You cup water in both hands to wash off your shoulders. You don't want to answer and give yourself away. Of course you'd fucking liked it, is he kidding? Boys. No, you think, not boys. Steve.

And after the stunt he'd pulled in the back yard, too. The nerve.

Warm water laps at your naked stomach. You think about his lips running over your shoulder and how tenderly he'd held you. Suddenly the water feels scorching, and you climb out over the lip as Steve says, "How much longer?"

"Stop stalking me."

"You're taking forever."

It's barely been five minutes. You go dizzy with pleasure at the idea that he might miss you so badly, the implication that he likes you that much.

You wrap a towel around yourself and squat down to sort through the contents of your bag for your pajamas and underwear.

"I'm getting dressed," you inform him, putting your clothes on the counter so you can dry off.

"I've never been any good at that," he says.

You pull your underwear over damp thighs and laugh under your breath so he can't hear it and get spurred on. "At getting dressed?"

"Right. Just awful. You should see me in the mornings, it's like, what limb does this go on?"

You stop scrubbing the towel over yourself to ask, "Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm trying. You're dodging the punchline."

"Wouldn't you want me to teach you how to take them off, rather than on?"

"How presumptuous!" You can hear his smirk.

"What was the punchline?" you ask, eager to draw the attention back to his bad joke rather than your suggestion.

You pull your shirt over your head and step into your pyjamas pants, tying the strings into a neat bow.

"Well, because you're so ridiculously nice I thought you'd offer to teach me how to do it, and then I'd get to say something like, 'Baby, I'm a visual learner.'"

"That's awful," you mumble, bent at the waist as you hop into your socks.

He hears it anyways. "Say it to my face."

You look yourself over in the mirror. Fresh faced, shirt sticking to your damp chest, pajama trousers high on your hips. You tug your shirt over the waistband. An entirely normal outfit for a normal night.

You open the door and Steve falls onto his back into the bathroom, looking up as you look down. He must've been sitting with his legs hiked, too much weight on the door to fall in readily. You laugh guiltily.

"Are you okay?"

He blinks. His eyes look impossibly wide.

"Steve?" You tilt your head to the side.

"You look killer," he says.

You mime like a slasher over his prone body and try to do the sound effects. Steve giggles and you decide it's your new favourite sound. He covers his face with his hands, one shoulder lifting from the floor with the force of it. You've never heard him laugh like this, all high pitched and gasping.

You can't decide whether you want to kneel down and kiss him or kneel down and pretend to stab him to death. You think the latter will make him laugh some more and you'll do anything for that next hit, falling to your knees with a threatening hand poised above you.

When Steve laughs really hard his mouth opens in a big smile, all his top teeth on display and shining.

You drop your hand to his chest, having lost all steam. The need to tell him how handsome he is, pretty, lovely, beautiful, all of it, is maddeningly high. You don't want to ruin the moment and you won't, spreading your palm flat over his chest and leaning down.

"I'm gonna kill you," you murmur, lips barely parted as you look between both of his eyes, memorising their flush of dark lashes. You drag your hand down his torso. "Why are you laughing?"

"I mean, if I'm gonna die-" He blows a big puff of air up his face and his hair moves like sea grass. "I'm okay with it being you who kills me."

"You'd let me kill you, baby?" you ask, still quiet, bemused and endeared and on the precipice of something big.

"I'd let you do a lot worse," he says.

You brush the hair out of his face. "I don't wanna do any of that stuff."

"Good. I was getting nervous. Here, give me-" he lifts up off of the ground to kiss you once. A chaste peck that leaves you a smiling mess.

You climb off of him before he has to ask and put your hand out to help him up. He takes it but doesn't need it, surprisingly lithe as he stands and pushes you back into his room. You laugh when he encourages you none too gently into his bed again. He flips on the TV, swaps the VHS out for one you can't see and then joins you at the top, lying down with a suffering sigh.

He stretches and groans. You ogle him.

"What's the movie?"

"Don't laugh?" he asks.

"No, I won't."

He shifts so you're two halves of a heart curved towards each other. "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." You nibble the inside of your lip. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"Am I laughing, Steve?"

"Just about," he grumbles.

You don't know why but it feels more than natural to curl up towards him. Any insecurity is fixed quickly when he pulls you close, one arm behind your head and propping him up tall, the other coming over your waist loosely, his wrist to your hip but his fingers not touching you.

You have to turn your neck to see the TV across the room. After a few minutes it aches and you consider moving, then Steve manoeuvres to press his lips to your head and you forget all about it.

His shirt's ridden up. His stomach is soft from the way he's on his side, and you can see the dark trail of hair leading from his navel that disappears into the plaid of his pants.

You reach out to slip your fingers under the hem and wrap your arm around him, feeling the croft of silky hair at the small of his back. You trail up, your finger bumping over the smoothed ridges of horizontal stretch marks.

"Can you feel that?" you ask.

Steve slowly moves his elbow. His face level with yours, he asks, "Can you feel this?" He scratches his fingers lightly over your hip.

You giggle with your mouth closed. "Yeah, I guess it was a stupid question."

Steve moves back and you turn to look at him. You're very close. You're in bed.

"Wasn't stupid," he says quietly.

You raise your brows and incline your head to his until he's laughing.

"It was misguided," he allows.

"I don't know why- I mean, I have enough stretch marks. I know they're not-" you laugh, a bubble of sound that warms his lips, "not dead."

"Maybe yours are special," he teases.

"Wanna find out?"

He laughs and kisses you. Pressure that slowly builds, a chaste pressing of his lips to yours. It's miraculous how quickly your breathing syncs, how you're inhaling at every parting, how your mouths open at the same time. He takes in a big sigh that lights you up and pulls you in like it's nothing.

He dedicates himself to your top lip. There's urgency there that wasn't before, and you're feeling it too. His mouth a crescent of heat, he takes your lip between his and sucks gently. You gasp and your hand twists in his shirt.

"Shit, sorry," he says, "I haven't done this in-"

"It's okay. It's okay, I liked it."

"Yeah?"

You huff against his lips. He's smiling as he does it again. You shudder at the feeling of his teeth, his careless nipping, your hands searching for comfort.

Everything goes slow. He kisses slow, he touches slow. His hands move over your back, slip under your shirt and climb up. Not looking for anything, just looking.

Your hand climbs over his chest. You brush your fingers through the ends of his carefully before pushing up, weaving into the soft strands at the back of his neck. You rub his thumb over his skin in time with your kisses.

Steve encourages you onto your back. You feel a heat growing in your chest, somewhere lower, as he hovers over you, his lips pushing you down into a space that doesn't exist. Your fingers are busy learning the back of his head, fingertips moving over his scalp, scratching lightly as you trail back down to hold him in place.

You kiss up. Steve's hand knocks your shirt up your chest as he squeezes the skin just below your breasts, breathing hard.

He hesitates. His fingers pinch your shirt as if he's going to pull it back down.

"Steve," you murmur. "It's okay."

He kisses your cheek without looking at you, his eyes on your naked skin. "You sure?"

You bring your knees up until they brush his hip and push them away from him, petting the hair out of his face. "Yeah," you say, smiling.

More kissing. Steve ducks down and holds your face steady in one hand, giving you short-lived, wet kisses as his fingers approach your chest. He pauses, watching your face as his fingertips bump into the swell of your breast. "Okay?" he asks.

You lift your chin. "It's fine, Harrington."

"Steve," he corrects steadily, the pads of his fingers ghosting under your nipple to caress the side. His thumb rubs a quarter circle just underneath and you feel the soft skin perk up.

"Steve," you utter.

From there you endure some of the worst kisses of your life – worst as in, life changing, as in sticky, as in everything you've ever wondered about and more. You know you're hopeless. You feel yourself melt into nothing as he massages your peaking nipple, laughing into his mouth when he squeezes and hitching when he squeezes harder.

He pushes the small nub between his index and middle finger and his teasing stutters. He holds you like this and kisses you and you don't know how much time passes. With him, time feels implausible. Like a guideline you ignore.

When you think you might be more him than yourself he pulls away, leaving your lips hot and bruising.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, pulling the hem of your shirt over his finger. His eyes are so brown. You can't believe how brown they are.

"Please."

"Don't- You don't have to say please with me. Not with this, okay?" He rubs his hand over your breast and presses it deep into your heart. "Not with anything."

"You'll regret that," you say, heat like nothing you've ever felt in your chest and the tips of your ears.

"I don't think I will."

He kisses you again like he just can't help it and sits up enough to work your t-shirt from under your back. The excitement gets mixed up with enough insecurity then to make you nauseous.

Steve drops your shirt onto the floor and plants his hands on either side of you. "Oh, you're fucking pretty."

His eyes take you in. It surprises you when he spends half the time staring at your face, entirely too much of it at your eyes. "You know how pretty you are?"

"You tell me enough, Stevie," you mumble, aflame.

"Wanna hear it again?"

You don't say anything. His eyes bore into yours. His lashes kiss.

His grin is practically dietific as his lips curve up. "You're beautiful. 'So fine and pretty,'" he says, almost but not quite singing.

"You're just as handsome," you say, bringing your hands to his defined cheeks. You smooth your hands over his face and ears and hair, holding it all away from him. "You're…" You drop your hands to the curve of his neck and follow over his trap muscle. "You're amazing."

"Stop," he says. You take it for 'keep going'.

"Handsome sounds too formal," you mutter, almost to yourself, "but it's true. You're handsome. More than handsome, you're- you're funny and kind and-" You shake your head. "I think you're the first person I've ever wanted like this."

You don't mean to get emotional. 'This' comes out so rough it burns, and you swallow it all down, blinking fast.

"Like 'this'?" he asks.

He brings a hand to your face, holding your cheek like you're made of solid silver, like you might bend under his touch.

"Like this," you say again. "If you want to."

"I want to," he says, nodding happily. "Of course I do."

You laugh and he laughs. There's a gap where you're both thinking, Oh, we're doing this.

And then Steve's in motion.

He pulls his shirt over the back of his head and you're starstruck. His hair's a dark mess, the ends cast light by the TV. You reach up to smooth them down and it's too late, Steve's ducking down for a smattering of heavy kisses across your lips, one corner to the other. His nose taps into yours and you turn your face to accommodate him, his tongue a wet heat as he pushes it into yours. You reciprocate as best you can, eyes closed tight and hands all over the place. You start at his collar. One hand runs over the twisting of chest hair over his pecs and the other holds his face to yours. He curls his fingers around your wrist, the other paying some much needed attention to your neglected breast. He plays until both nipples are aching and then some.

He spreads your legs and your heart skips as he puts his knee between your thighs, lips starting a ruinous journey downward. He sets kisses like tiny sparks of heat against your jaw and under it, nose dragging down your neck as he turns. You cup the back of his head as his lips part, as he takes your flesh between his teeth and sucks tenderly.

"You smell like flowers," he says, kissing his half-hearted hickey.

"Some idiot bought me a florists," you tease.

His hand slides under your back. His knee presses to the bump of your cunt. "Best decision that idiot ever made," he says, words soaking into your neck, smothered.

You roll your hips shyly against his knee, a negligible friction as he rubs your back and scandalises your neck.

You lift your hips high and he gets the idea very quickly, fingers pinching at fabric until your thighs are out. He tries to move away and you hold him there, dazed by his ravenous attentions.

He laughs and strokes your arm. "I'm gonna take them off, okay?"

You drop your hands from his hair sheepishly and he moves back onto his knees.

"Pretty panties," he says. You don't think he's teasing.

"I thought you might like them," you tell him honestly.

"I do. They're dainty," he says, sliding your pajama pants off of your ankles. "Almost don't wanna take 'em off."

You feel a little bit nervous and decide to direct your attention to his own pants. There's a noticeable bulge at the seat of them. Your cunt twinges at the sight.

Steve's hands worship at your ankles. "Is everything okay?" he asks.

"This is the first time you're seeing me like this. I'm just nervous."

He pulls your foot onto his thighs and fiddles with the elastic of your sock. "If you could see what I'm seeing, I don't think you would be."

You try to imagine yourself as he sees you. Mostly naked and kiss mussed after a day of sun and fun and his affection, the dopey, slightly shy smile, with one arm crossed under your breasts and the other picking nervously at the lace of your underwear.

"You're fucking killer." He mimes a stabbing motion and you giggle. "I don't have to let you kill me, seeing you like this might just do it."

You let him keep your ankle in his lap but bring the other leg up, folding it across your thigh to hide your cunt from view. His eyes dip to the twin globes of your ass and he groans. Your ears strain to hear it.

"Are you gonna take them off?" you ask, eyes on the curve of his dick, eyebrows raised cheekily.

"You don't wanna take them off for me?" he asks. Your startled expression makes him giggle as he slides off of the bed and hooks his thumbs in the waistband.

He kicks them off, his boxers tighter than you'd pictured. You hike up on your elbows and bring your knees together, biting the inside of your lip as his hand drops to his cock. He readjusts the sizable length and a hiss of breath escapes him as he does.

"Fuck," he groans. "Shit, you're fucking- you're fucking everything."

You rub your thighs together coquettishly. "Come back and kiss me?" you ask. He takes a step forward. You tilt your head towards your shoulder. "Are you gonna take those off too?"

You had your suspicions, but the real thing makes your heart stop.

Steve kicks out of his boxers and holds his hands out. You spread your legs and he climbs on top of you, hands braced above your shoulders until he's negotiated himself into the gap. You feel the curve of his cock press into your stomach as he kisses you.

You try your best to be casual and let him kiss you, but you're curious and excited and you can't not think about it now that it's happening.

You stroke your hands down his back and leave them loose at his waist. "Steve," you whisper, breaking the kiss early.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Please?" you whisper.

"What did I say about please?" he murmurs. He doesn't sound very scolding.

"That I don't have to say it."

He leans back on his haunches. "So don't."

You sit up, hands between your laps and wringing. "Uh," you reach out. "Tell me if I do something wrong?"

He softens. "Sure, baby."

You lean in and Steve pulls you closer by the calves. Your hand trembles as you take his cock into your hands. He's thick. Fat. Girthier than you'd thought he would be and twice as hairy, though trimmed neatly at the outskirts, you slide your hand down to the underside of his shaft and pause.

When you align your hand, bottom of your palm to the very start of his shaft, the tip of your index finger misses the tip by two whole inches. You encircle him curiously.

"Spit in your hand," he says gently.

"Oh."

You spit into your hand and press it back into his cock, spreading it with loose strokes over veined ridges. The curls of his pubes brush your hand as you reach the bottom. The entire length of him jumps.

You're honestly dazzled. You laugh out of the corner of his mouth and look up at him with a happy smile. "You're packing a lot of heat here, Harrington."

He looks relieved. "Do you know how fucking scary it is when your girl has your dick in her hand and gets the giggles? I started second-guessing everything I thought about myself."

"I can see why you're popular with the ladies," you murmur, eyes bright with mirth as you dip down and kiss the tip where a dot of precum wells.

"Oh, don't, baby."

"Huh?" You sit up tall. "Do you wanna stop?"

"The opposite. I don't know how long I'll last, especially," he pulls you by the chin to his lips, "in this pretty mouth."

More giggles. He swallows them in their entirety, hand wrapped around your wrist to pull your fingers from his length. Your hands go limp, languid under his gentle kisses and featherlight touching.

You pull away from each other but fight to kiss anyways, cheeks aching with a smile as he steals one, another, a handful of sweet, catching pecks.

You pout as he pulls away.

"D'you wanna lie back?" he asks, hand behind his neck. He rakes his fingers through his hair.

You lie down with his pillows under your head.

Steve smooths his thumbs against the waistband of your panties.

"It's okay," you say, wiggling your hips from left to right encouragingly.

He drags them down. Over the slopes of your thighs and the hills of your knees, he slides them down to your calves. He pulls them off one ankle and they hang off of the other. You lift your leg and let the dampened pink fabric fall onto his rumpled sheets.

He crawls forward, hands hooking under your knee. "Lemme see you, babe."

You bring your legs up and spread your thighs, feet between his knees.

He takes his cock into his hand and tugs. "Fuck," he says, eyes heavy, "fuck, are you wet?"

"You've been kissing me for hours," you say bashfully.

"I'd kiss you longer if you're gonna let me. Can I touch you?"

You push your palm down to your cunt and spread yourself just slightly, more to get used to it than to tease him. "Yes, please."

Steve crawls until you're close and you settle your legs either side of him. He does as you'd done, pushing his thumb to the small well of slick at your entrance and spreading you open with his fingers. "Fuck," he says again. "Shit, baby. Look at you…"

He pushes his slick-wet thumb into the waiting bead of your clit. "There?" he asks.

You remember to breathe. "Yeah," you say, eyes drifting closed as he familiarises himself. You drop your head into his pillows, neck aching. "Right there."

"Aww," he says sympathetically, free hand pressed flat to the inside of your thigh, holding you open. "You have the cutest fucking pussy ever. Shit, i'so wet, you must have such a crush on me."

You smile to yourself and hide your face in a pillow that smells like him. "A huge one. It's kind of embarrassing."

"I bet it is."

His fingers probe your clit. It pulses under his touch, swollen and sensitive to every brush of skin.

"Can you come kiss me some more?"

He looks like he wants to argue.

"Please, Stevie."

Steve reaches over your chest and pulls open his nightstand, procuring a new box of rubbers. You flick his chest. "Is that a new box?"

"Maybe."

You kiss his shoulder and he rips one open with his teeth. "How many's in there?"

"Enough, you minx." He rolls it on.

Kissing. His weight pressed over you, his cock against your mess of slick. You whine as he grinds down into you hard, his tangle of dark curls a blessed friction.

His hips jerk back and the tip of his dick hits into your clit.

"Are you gonna tease me all night?" you ask.

"Hmm," he pretends to think about it, dropping his head next to yours, his arm wrapping around your neck. You turn your face to his. His eyes are closed and his smile is nearly peaceful, though the crinkle between his brows speaks to his growing desperation. It's as casual as any cuddle with him before. "I could."

"But you won't."

"No, I won't."

Steve gives you one last kiss and situates himself between your legs at full height, pushing your legs back until the tops of your thighs kiss the bump of your stomach. He takes his cock into his hand and guides the tip down the length of your crease. His head bumps your entrance.

You let one leg fall to the side, arm crossed under your rising chest, looking at Steve with bright, adoring eyes. He's beautiful above you, pumping his cock with one hand. The other plays at your weeping hole, fingertips dipping inside two at a time.

You clench around his fingers as they ease in.

"Shit, you're tight. You okay?"

You nod voraciously.

He spreads his fingers wide, his eyes rolling back showfully. "Fuck, babe… Gonna spread you wide open, yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Want you inside."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows are furrowed, a certain stress to his voice.

"Are you gonna make me say please?"

He takes your thighs into both hands and lines up. His grin is both salacious and adorable, a familiar mischief adorning his pretty features. "Never."

The stretch is a lot but he takes it slow. Really slow, his hands on your skin and constantly measuring your reaction. Which must be a super ego trip for him, because your face goes slack with pleasure and you have to focus a lot of energy on smiling rather than frowning; there's somethingwonderful about being this close to him. His cock pushes into you and you gasp with every gentle intrusion, every half inch of space he takes until he's halfway inside and staying there.

He bends over you and takes your face into his hand. You hadn't realised before you met Steve how often your face could be held by someone, and how safe it could make you feel. How the brush of someone's fingertips over your cheek could tickle and somehow you never want to move away. He pulls his hips back, rolls in, and your eyes crease with pleasure, lashes touching as you squint.

He smells like everything you're used to. He must be thinking the same thing as you, because he smiles, and says, "You might as well be a flower for how much you smell like one."

Bergamot. He touches something sensitive, gummy walls stretched around him. You whine under your breath.

Lavender. "Make that sound again?" he asks.

Cedarwood. The murmur of the TV fades away entirely. The only things you can hear are you and Steve. You; your panting, the high warping of every breath as his thick cock works you open. Steve; a panting all his own, a scratchy roughness. You try not to make too much noise in efforts to hear him.

The slightest hint of citrus. An impression. Maybe his breath, something lingering from the orange-infused water you'd sipped on earlier. His breath fans out over your collar as he bottoms out, a sound like a hiccup ripped from him.

You wrap your hands around his back. "Oh my god, Stevie."

"How's that feel? That okay?" He stays very still. "Pretty baby, taking all of me right now." He starts to move his hips in leisurely circles.

You pull him down for a kiss, a world away from being able to answer intelligibly. You're so full it aches, so full – the blunt tip of his cock pushes into your sweet spot and you have to break the kiss to gasp for air.

"Feels so good," you whisper, rubbing his back unhurried.

A shiver courses down your spine as he pulls out to push in again. The sound is filthy, an erotic slapping as his thighs hit into yours and he moans. He fucking moans.

"Fuck, Steve. Can you go faster?"

Steve forces his forearms under your shoulder blades and his forehead presses to your collar, lips sluggish as they kiss your chest. He pulls your nipple into his mouth as he starts to thrust into you rhythmically, sucking and nibbling and twisting, his ministrations sending little bolts of pleasure down to your throbbing cunt.

He kisses hickey after hickey into your chest. You're too busy getting fucked out to notice, lavished by his mouth and numbed by his cock. Every thrust starts to hit deep, and every thrust pulls an unintelligible sound from you. Panting turns to moaning, moans turn to mewls.

"Hear how wet you are? Do you hear that?" Steve asks as he pulls away. He flicks at your bruising nipples and pouts when you jump. "Sorry, I'm sorry. Not my fault you have the cutest rack ever."

"Steve!" you cry, flushing with an embarrassed heat.

"What? It's fucking true." He takes your hips into his hands and hits in hard, cock prodding your spongey g-spot unapologetically. "Cutest pussy, too."

He brings his hand down to your cunt and slows his pace, thrusts shallow and eyes wide as he spreads you open. You can feel your hole shaping around him, the stretch as he opens you up. His thick fingers press into the bead of your clit and he starts to draw, tight messy circles in time with his thrusts.

"Taking me so well, babygirl."

You cup your aching tits and feel them sway with every thrust, every hit of his thighs into yours. A sticky mess grows between you that leaves your clit wet with slick. Steve fights to find purchase as he spreads your lips, thumb coming up to pinch at it.

He moans and looks up at the ceiling, his throat bared as he rolls his hips and pulls you onto his cock. "Fuck…" he groans, beggy and out of breath.

You stare at him, unabashed in your rabid attraction.

"Fuck, Steve," you say between hitching breaths, "I'm lucky you're mine."

His gaze jumps to yours. He snaps his hips and you squeal happily. "Say that again."

"I'm lucky you're mine," you say without missing a beat. It's true.

He holds your hips in an iron grip and ruts into you, deep-seated and unrelenting. He's barely a half-inch back when he's rubbing back in, moulding you to the shape of his cock. Dark curls press into your clit as he leans forward.

"You wouldn't believe how perfect you look on my dick." He grinds down, pulls out and thuds back in.

Your face screws up.

"You like that, baby? You want me to do it again?"

You nod and open your arms. Steve falls into them, letting you wrap him up in a grip so tight you can feel the suggestion of his ribs, his chest hair scratching your chest as he repeats the motion. You squeeze your eyes closed and whimper into the top of his head, hands pulling at his back as he rocks in again and again and again.

"Y'making such a mess on me."

You're not surprised. Every thrust into your sopping heat sounds loud in the quiet of his room, and your slick is everywhere. Wetting the thatch of pubes around his cock, the insides of your soft thighs.

"Steve, can you- can you-"

He presses his fingers back to your clit. "This? Sorry, you're just gripping me tight, I had to hold onto something," he apologises, sounding a short fall from reverential. "I got you."

Your sticky thighs start to shake as he fucks into you, the quick rub of his fingers against your clit tightening the coil inside you until it's snapping hard. You can't even warn him, chasing the circles he's making with your hips as you force your face into his pillow and fall apart.

You want to hate the sound that you make. It's an embarrassing combination of a squeal and a breathless gasp, only partially muffled by the fabric under your lips. You find yourself unable when Steve chokes on his words, stuttering, "F-fuck, oh fuck, sweetheart, you sound like- like heaven. You fucking feel like it, clamping down on me."

Steve fucks into that extra snugness and you can see on his face that he's close.

You blink out of the haze of your climax and cover Steve's hand where it teases your overstimulated clit, pulling it up and around your neck. You slide your arms around him and scratch up his back lightly, his hips staggering into yours as you say, "You gonna cum too, baby? Please?"

"Fuck," he groans through gritted teeth.

You clench your walls down around him and the drag is insane, better when he gets his final burst of energy and fucks into you with big, rough thrusts, your knees clamped around his hips. His teeth close around your shoulder and he bites you, maybe harder than he means to, a white hot pain that lasts a split-second, his hitching breaths hot in your skin. His hips slow and his entire weight falls into your tummy, wrought with post-orgasm aching.

You rub his back, damp with perspiration.

He kisses an apology over his cruel hickey.

"Fuck," he whispers.

His kisses move up and he moves too. You both hiss – disturbed, sweaty, blood still pumping fast. He's only adjusting for the height advantage, his mouth at your ear.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You have a lot more to say, but you need a second.

Steve makes a humming sound at the back of his throat. "Can I go get a towel? I'll be right back."

"Yeah, Stevie. Whatever you wanna do," you say lightly, rubbing his back and hoping each pass of your palm implies the depth of your fondness.

Steve is cautious as he climbs off of you. You close your eyes and bring your hands to your sweaty face, fingers over your eyes before pushing them to either side of your forehead to stare at his ceiling, entirely blissed and in disbelief.

Steve climbs over you with a towel in hand. You can feel the warmth coming off of its wet corner.

He drops it onto your stomach and you go to pick it up. He grabs your hands in both of his and holds them, joined, against your shoulders. "I'll do it, but just-" He ducks his face to yours. "Let me kiss you."

You smile happily and close your eyes, fingers flexing in his grip as he brushes his lips against yours, at first gently and then with an enthusiastic pressure. You're worn out from everything and can't respond how you want to, but if Steve minds he doesn't say anything, hands squeezing your hands and his lips all lazy and curled up against yours.

Your chest hurts.

Steve keeps a hold of one hand as he breaks the kiss in favour of cleaning you up though quickly drops it to take your shaky thigh into his hand. Spread wide, he wipes every trace of slick he can find, especially kind to your centre.

He's already discarded the condom and wiped himself down. You reach out to stroke the start of his damp snail trail as he throws the towel on the floor next to your discarded clothes. Pulling the sheets where they'd fallen to the bottom of the bed over your naked bodies, Steve slouches onto his side.

"Come here," he says, pulling you into his chest with infinite tenderness.

You turn into his hold and ram your face into his skin, hand searching for the tempting curve of his bicep.

He drops a kiss into your temple and then another. You feel surprisingly awake, his body a hot and heavy thing beside you.

"Do you feel like talking?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," you say, giggling. "Yeah, sorry. God, Steve."

He bends at the waist to cuddle you like he's shielding you. "I know."

You lie there in his embrace and you can't stop thinking about it. That was perfect. That was fucking perfect. Right? You want to ask him. You'd never felt that pretty or pleased before in your life.

"God, that was fucking perfect," Steve says.

You rub your nose against his chest and giggle, an overabundance of joy bubbling messy at the surface. "I was just thinking that."

"Yeah?"

"Oh my god."

"I'm kind of pissed off. Like, if that's the standard, how am I gonna live up to this every time?"

Every time, you think.

"Maybe we just got really lucky. We're never gonna have sex that good ever again," you theorise.

He starts laughing, big, contagious chuckles that boom from the centre of his chest and catch you by surprise. He sounds as happy as you feel.

"Don't jinx it." He rubs his hand over your shoulder blades.

You kiss his chest lazily and he slinks down under the sheets with you, dragging you up until your face is eye-level with his. His eyes are closed and you close your own, moaning as he crushes you to his chest and starts to pat your back.

It's an immense domestic pleasure. You couldn't explain why, but the continuous, steady rhythm of his firm patting makes it easier to calm your racing heart.

"You look really beautiful," he says.

"Your eyes are closed."

"So? You looked beautiful when I closed them. I just want you to know. And your sounds… God, I'm gonna be touching you all the time if that's what you sound like."

"I love how you sounded too." You rub his chest with your knuckle. "I love that you sounded like that for me."

"Because of you."

"I meant what I said. I'm really lucky."

Steve pushes his hand behind your ear and draws your face from his. You open your eyes and find him already looking at you, eyebrows raised. "Thanks for telling me?"

"Shut up! You know what I mean. I'm lucky to have you."

"If you're lucky I'm fucking blessed."

"I've never heard you swear that much."

"And it's entirely your fault," he jokes.

You're okay with that.

You tuck yourself into Steve's neck and trace the lines of his body. The small roundness of his Adam's apple and the ridges of his collarbones, the small dip between his chest muscles and the line underneath his pec. You go to just below his ribs before needing your hand between his torso and his arm, hugging him like he's hugging you.

The hickey he'd given you on your shoulder twinges, reminding you of his maltreatment. You place your lips against his throat and mouth lazy kisses until he sighs in content. When you know you've lulled him into a false sense of security, you take his skin between your teeth and nip.

"What's that for?" he asks in bemusement.

"You tried to take a chunk of me."

"Shit," he says.

You kitten lick the tiny welt you've bitten into his pale skin and he tenses. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, wondering if he likes that, and deign to give him a smattering of wet, sloppy hickeys to find out.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, fingers brushing over the small embeddings of his teeth in your shoulder.

"Not really," you say, mouthing up until your nose is to his cheek. You close your eyes as he turns his head. You can feel his breath against your lips. "No, I like it, anyway."

Your arms slide over his back as he pulls back to take you in. You stare at each other, not sure how to say anything that hasn't already been said or anything that hasn't been felt. He looks pretty and ragged, perfect hair mussed and dainty brown lashes in damp triangles. The dim lighting shadows his face, the lightest brightness under the well of his eye.

"I wish I was one of the old masters."

He smiles. "What's that?"

"Like, the great artists. Painters, masters of their craft. Like the guy who painted The Girl with a Pearl Earring."

Steve starts to shift onto his back. You lay your arm across his chest and hold your weight off of him. He doesn't like that very much, pulling you in with one arm crossed over the small of your back, the other held high but loose. He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, fingernails sliding over your skin. "Is painting something you like to do?"

Your heart melts at his genuine interest and his willingness to listen to something seemingly tangential. "I wish I could paint like they could. I would paint you."

"Yeah?" he asks, clarity brightening his face. His eyes are lined with pleasure.

"I would. The," you raise your hand to his face and start to trace each feature as you go, "bridge of your nose. The slopes here," his brow, the dip underneath, careful of his eye, "your cheekbones. Your lips. This line here, and this one. This one, too."

"Are you trying to tell me I have wrinkles?" he jokes.

"Only this one." You smooth the pad of your thumb between his eyebrows. "Though I think it's inevitable."

"Oh you do, do you?" he asks, abruptly loud. You're startled into giggling, dropping your hand over one of his eyes in your shock. He kisses your palm.

You fall silent. You take your hand to his jaw and press the invisible remains of his kiss to his cheek as you lean in.

"I think… I think I'd want to paint you. Just so people know," you murmur, touching your forehead to his, "that you were this handsome."

You wait for him to laugh and he doesn't. Like the trepidation of a sneeze that doesn't come, you feel off-kilter.

"Steve?"

He shushes you and kisses you for the hundredth time tonight. You could happily take another hundred, eyebrows pinching up at his silence.

He kisses you until you forget what you'd been saying, until the aching in your abdomen can't be ignored.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you announce regretfully.

"Yeah, okay. Want me to come with you?"

You laugh and climb off of him. His hand reaches for you as you go, his fingers catching yours until you pull away. You grab the damp towel and your sleep shirt off of the floor, slipping it on as you walk away. Steve acts like he's been grievously injured.

In the bathroom you clean up properly and pull on the spare underwear you'd had the foresight to bring. You stretch until you moan.

"You okay?" Steve calls.

"Stop listening to me in the bathroom, perv."

You can hear him stand. His footsteps in the bedroom. You shiver in the cool bathroom and smile at yourself really hard in the mirror.

When you return he's done the same as you, changed into new boxers. You stare at his thighs unabashed as he steps into his pyjama bottoms, yours rescued and folded on the end of the bed. Steve holds his hands out at your approach and tugs you towards him, not hugging but close. He pushes your shirt up to your ribs and you struggle to see what he's doing, craning your neck.

"What?" you ask.

He follows the impression of a stretch mark down your skin. "Did you feel that?" he asks genuinely.

You'd more than felt it. He pulls up the waistband of your panties thoughtlessly and traces another stretch mark. "You're pretty," he murmurs.

You hug him hard enough that he has to take a step back to avoid falling over. His hands stop their studying, braced at your waist and walking you backwards toward the bed. He pushes you down and you fall onto your back, clinging to him as he tries to pull away.

"Come on," he says, laughing, "I'm gonna get you something to drink. Let go."

"Whatever," you grumble.

Steve disappears downstairs and you sit up, eyes bright like you're seeing his room for the first time all over again. Fast Times at Ridgemont High looks to be nearing its end. You switch off the TV with a triumphant smile and move your attention to his dresser, where the cassette player you'd 'loaned' him sits. You're half hoping Van Halen II will be inside but it must still be in his car. Your disappointment ebbs quickly when you see what's really inside.

Steve has the good graces to blush when he returns. You've clicked play and sit with the tape deck in your lap, beaming. "American Pie?" you ask knowingly.

"It's a good album."

He presses a cold glass of water into your hands and you sip feverishly, best pleased when he sits beside you, thigh to your naked thigh.

"Softie."

He dips his fingers into his glass and flicks you. It feels good and you move back encouragingly. He indulges you, flicking cold water over your face and neck until you're finely misted as a flower in the morning dew.

The best part of American Pie starts to play. You gasp as Steve pulls the glass from your hand and sets them heavily on the dresser, hands wet with condensation as he sews your fingers together and pulls you up.

"What are you doing?" you ask curiously.

His shoulders move back. "Dancing?"

"You wanna dance?" you ask. Your legs are tired – his must be double.

"You're old enough," he says, encouraging your hands from side to side.

You were gonna give him what he wanted anyways, but that small smile toying over his pretty pink mouth spurs you on. You jump on toes and follow his lead.

Steve digs a short fingernail into the deep orange skin of what he thinks is a tangerine and watches as citrus spritzes into the air. It leaps from the fruit with every slice of rind he pulls away, and his hands quickly smell of it.

You lay in the grass with his sunglasses perched over your nose. Steve worries you might be sleeping, your smile demure and your arms still where they've crossed over your chest. Your cotton dress blankets the grass around your thighs, the hem waved as the thin edge of a peony petal.

"You better not be sleeping, Y/N," he warns.

You'd definitely been dozing. You hide it well, your hand hardly trembling as you stretch it across the grass towards him. "I wasn't."

"You know what happened last time."

"You're here to protect me."

He can't argue with that. Orange juice stains his fingers as he splits the segments apart, pulling white pith from the flesh until each slice is clean. He drops two into your hand. "For you."

"Thank you," you say, sounding genuinely excited. You sit up slow and your dress falls down enough to expose the top of your breast where Steve had hickied at a risk of excess the night before.

He moves across the grass until your knees knock together and presses his hand to your forehead. You're definitely hotter than you should be but not about to burst into flames. Steve ushers more tangerine into your hand and reaches for the grocery bag to grab your drink and put it in your lap. You gasp at the sudden cold and gasp again when he pulls the strap of your dress up your shoulder. There’s no hiding the worst one at the meeting of your neck and shoulder. Every time he looks at it, he blushes.

"Was I flashing?" you ask worriedly through a mouthful of fruit.

"Not really? But, uh, you know. Hickey."

"Ohhh," you say knowingly. "Well, that's your fault."

"Did I say otherwise? Have some water. We're gonna have to go soon, it's too hot."

"Steve."

"I'm serious."

"Let's just go buy one of those little hand crank fans."

"So I can crank it all day? No way."

"You'll dictate-"

"Dictate!"

"-my sunbathing but won't crank a little fan for me? What kind of relationship even is this?"

"Stop it," he says concisely.

Your lips pull into a self satisfied smile and you drink your drink like he'd asked you to. "What are we gonna do after?"

You'd woken Steve up early, before the sun had really come out, a vision and perfect and everything he'd known you would be in the mornings. Hands on his shoulders, you'd kissed him until he'd stirred, skipping kisses over his neck and chest.

"Ba-by," you'd whispered, dragging the last syllable, your voice croaky with tiredness, "let's go get breakfast."

Breakfast at a sticky diner that consisted of pancakes with too much syrup and whipped cream on strawberries. You'd dragged him into the fancy grocery store across the street and filled a basket with fancy drinks, pretzels, lip balm and a net of tangerines.

Now, hours later, sweaty from the outpour of ultra-hot sunlight and your company, Steve doesn't know what's left to do that could be any better than this.

He spread his legs and tucks a rogue lock of hair behind his ear. "What do you wanna do?"

You twist the cap back onto your drink and push onto your knees, grass crushed. "I don't know. Anything. I don't have anything to do tomorrow, so you can keep me as late as you want."

He doesn't feel bad when he says, "Could I keep your for the night again?"

You hesitate. He doubles down.

"I'll take you to your place and you can get some more clothes. And I'll make you something better than takeout, if you want," he promises, thinking of your home-cooked meals, the evident love poured into each one.

"No, it's not-" You smile at him, your eyes soft. "Of course you can keep me. But I'm not staying up to dance with you again." You yawn to drive the point home.

He breaks grass between his fingers. "Fine, no dancing."

You nod in agreement and take his shoulder into your hand, throwing your leg over his to straddle his thigh. You look comfortable despite the 'w' shape you're in, settling down with a harrumph of breath.

Steve tries not to think about the silk of your underwear against his leg, but of course he does. The pink colouring his cheeks isn't from the sun.

You look shy but happy as he grabs your hands, stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. "We can make something cool for the weather," you suggest lightly, the skirt of your dress ruffled by the breeze. "Sanwhiches. And something sweet for dessert 'cos we didn't have any yesterday."

"I don't know about you, but I think I had more than my fair share of dessert."

You drop the top of your head into his chest. "Sicko."

"A little. When it comes to you."

You start to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, humming something very quietly. The Waterboys or something like that, your lips pressed together tightly. You lashes flutter and you rub your cheek with your shoulder.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm just really happy," you confess.

What's he supposed to do? Not kiss you silly? He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you in.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut

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multific · 1 year

Text

All He Wanted, A Family

Assassin Predator x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: You and your mate deal with you baby, who is not always a happy camper.

Your son was now a couple of months old.

Summer soon arrived on the planet as he grew with each passing day.

During the warmer weather, you enjoyed being out more. Of course, with your Mate keeping a close eye on you.

Your tracker dog was always by your side as usual.

You brought out a fur and placed it under a tree, hiding in the shades, with your son in your lap, you tried to relax.

But your son was a very adventurous little guy.

He was very interested in everything and anything.

It all started when he realized he could crawl. Always chasing your dog around in the house, and now, outside he was even worse. While you brought out the fur so he could stay on it, he always found ways to leave it.

Even with just a blink of an eye, he was gone.

Your husband watched from the house as he sat on the porch, watching you and your son in the shades, looking out for predators and things alike.

He could only chuckle as the little boy crawled around and you followed him, bringing him back each time as he passed the imaginable line which you set.

"Can you watch him? I need to head in for food." you said to your mate as you stood up and he nodded once. He now had made a new translator, a device which was so small he made it into a necklace to be always around you.

You headed inside to bring some food out for yourself.

When you exited the house however, your heartbeat picked up.

"Where is he?" you asked as your husband pointed at the woods. "I told you to watch him!" you said as you rushed over, you heard him following you.

"I watched him, he went here."

"You let him out of your sight!" you said as you ducked under bushes, trying to find your boy. "Honey?!" you called out his name but no reply.

You really started to panic now as you walked further into the forest.

He was a fast baby but he really wandered off so much? In your despair, your anger began to rise, you soon turned to your Mate. "Where is he?!"

His eyes met yours but he didn't reply.

"Where's my son?!" you yelled at him as tears filled your eyes. "You lost him! He could be dead! I asked you to watch him!" your tears began to fall as the sun began to set, you knew he had no chance of surviving in the middle of the forest at night. Soon, you heard a small yelp then crying, you ran.

There you found your little baby boy with a huge predator eying him with it's teeth. You were quick in action, grabbing a branch and pushing the monster away as you grabbed your son. Your husband finished off the beast. By the time he turned to look at you, you were rushing back into your home with the crying boy in your arms.

You rushed into the bathroom, finding the medicine cabinet and the healing mist.

"It's okay, I got you." you told him as your heart broke with each tear that rolled down his face. You used the mist and watched as the small wound on his arm disappeared.

When his cries stopped, you headed into his room and sat down on the chair, trying to lull him to sleep and you also fed him.

He never once left your arms, not even when he was asleep.

The door hissed open as your eyes met with his yellow ones.

"I asked you to watch him. He could have died." you said as he took a couple of steps in, the dog followed as it sat down next to your chair.

"Didn't know he was so fast. Didn't watch him close enough. Sorry." you placed a kiss on your son's head as you moved to not look at your husband.

"He could have died." you repeated yourself.

"I'm sorry." you didn't look at him. You were still very angry. "Don't want to lose him or you. Watched for predators, didn't see him being so fast, and thought he was close. I'm sorry."

You could only imagine how hard it was for him to admit his fault and apologise.

"I won't let it happen again." he tried to assure you as he sat down on the floor. Given his size, he was still bigger than you even sitting on the floor. "You are very protective mother. I thought you overreacted until I saw the thing hurt him."

"Of course I am protective. We tried for so long to have a child, I don't want to lose him." he nodded once, understanding your point. "I love him very much, he is my son after all." another nod from your Mate.

"I love you two as well. Family." he said motioning to the three of you.

You moved slightly closer to him, putting an arm out he moved so you could put it around his neck, he moved his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. "Don't want to lose family. Sorry." he said.

"I love you too." you said with a whisper.

You two stayed in that position for a while.

Then you moved to place him into his little crib. The dog stayed with him as you two went to your own bedroom.

You never want to experience this feeling again. This fear of losing him.

The next day, you found your son not leaving your side for a moment.

You figured the incident scared him enough to never wander off alone again.

While you didn't want him to lose his interest in the world, you at least appreciated that for the time being he would stick with you.

The next day, you were out again, on the fur, under the tree. Your son never once took a step off of the fur, playing with the dog, your Mate joined you which captured the boy's interest. He moved to his father, climbing up the huge Yautja, you smiled as you watched the two interact.

You giggled a little as the boy reached up at his father, trying to reach his face and he got rather frustrated when he couldn't reach.

He groaned as he clicked his mandibles.

At first, you thought it was only a nose he made but when the translator around your mate's neck spoke. "Father." you looked at him as he looked back at you.

"He is growing up too fast. He is already speaking." you said with a sigh. Your mate pulled you close as he moved to lean against the tree.

This was all he ever wanted, a family.

A healthy and happy son, and you by his side, his happy female.

At that moment he thought, maybe you could have more little ones.

For now, he stayed but as soon as he can return to his lab, he will check if your body can handle another pregnancy.

He wanted to check all scenarios.

-----------------

Part 1 Part 2

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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roanniom · 2 years

Text

The Shift

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Read Part 2 Here

Summary: On a sweltering shift at family video, Steve Harrington gets on your nerves.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Smut, fingering, dirty talk, grinding, PIV sex, semi-public sex, light degradation, enemies to lovers, slight period-correct sexism and homophobia from a customer

It’s positively sweltering inside Family Video today. The box fan on the front counter does absolutely nothing to cool you down, especially as the tension within you runs hotter than the outside sun itself.

You shouldn’t be here. Today was your day off and you’d had plans with your friends for a pool day to beat the heat, knowing that today was forecasted to be the hottest of the year so far. Instead, you’ve been roped in to cover for Robin. And as much as you love her, part of you kinda secretly hopes she chokes on the milkshake she’s probably enjoying on her date right about now.

You don’t really want her to choke of course. You’ve been hyping her up for her eventual first date with Vicki for a long time now. It warms your cold, dead, perennially single heart to see your friend getting something she’s really wanted. Something she never thought would happen for her, especially not in Hawkins, Indiana.

But Hawkins, Indiana is exactly where you wish you weren’t right now. You’d rather be somewhere cool. Somewhere with ice and a breeze and fresh air.

Somewhere without Steve Harrington.

“You’ve been hogging the fan all day, trainee. Come on, give another sweaty bastard a turn.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn and glare directly into the face of your nemesis. Okay, nemesis is a little bit of an exaggeration. You aren’t mortal enemies, perhaps, but you would love to smack his smug face. Just once.

“For the last time. Stop calling me that. I have been working here almost as long as you,” you huff, not bothering to move an inch out of the radius of the fan.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I am the one who trained you. Making you - eternally - my trainee,” Steve responds, elbowing his way around you and into the line of semi-cool air.

“I was literally hired a month after you.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I showed you the ropes.”

“Only because the manager spent the night passed out in the ditch behind the liquor store.” You finish reboxing your last rewound tape, clicking it closed with a definitive snap.

“Hey. Jessie’s doing really well in rehab these days. Give him a break.” Steve pulls the stocking cart up and around to the counter and reaches for the tapes you’d just stacked. You yank them away from his grasp and haul them over to the cart yourself.

“And by ‘showed you the ropes’ are you referring to the fact that you broke the label maker in front of me and taught me how to get free snacks out of the break room vending machine?” You start pushing the cart towards the comedy section, not bothering to wait for Steve’s response.

“Hey! You should be thanking me for every bag of Reese’s Pieces I see you scarfing each day.” Steve comes up jogging behind you, grabbing the copy of Weird Science out of your hand before you can shelve it.

“Shut up, Harrington. As if you aren’t slamming M&M’s by the bushel.” You try to reach for the tape but he holds it up out of your reach. Damn his stupid height.

“Don’t you dare act like M&M’s aren’t the superior candy.”

“They melt in your hand - ,”

“So do Reese’s Pieces!” Steve cries out, interrupting you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Steve. I forgot that a handful of goopy M&M’s are what helped E.T. assimilate to this planet,” you say, rolling your eyes and abandoning Weird Science to his grasp. Let him shelve the damn thing. You move on to the next aisle.

Steve, of course, follows behind.

“You and that stupid little alien.” Which of course makes you round on him, to which he throws Weird Science up in front of himself as a shield.

“E.T. is a seminal piece of filmmaking and Spielberg’s best work to date, so don’t you get started again -,”

“Oh bullshit. His best work?” Steve’s brow is furrowed darkly as if you’ve committed some irredeemable act instead of simply disagreeing with his film opinions.

“Um, excuse me? A little help here?” The voice of Ms. Jenkins, elderly and snippy, issues from the front counter where she stands with a handful of tapes. You give Steve a mean look and bound over to your solitary customer.

“Yes of course, let me ring you up, ma’am,” you say sweetly, making quick work of checking to make sure the tapes are rewound before scanning and reading off the total to her. You always have to double check that tapes are rewound because you sure as hell can’t be certain that Steve has done his job when that particular chore is on his list of responsibilities.

By the time Ms. Jenkins is out the door with her rentals, Steve’s pushed the cart to the shelves closest to the counter, lazily fingering the spines of the horror tapes in a bored pursuit of a particular alphabetic location.

“Jaws.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said Jaws.”

“What about Jaws?” you ask with a sigh, leaning your hip against the counter and crossing your arms.

“Spielberg’s best movie.”

“Grow up, Harrington.”

“Excuse me?!” Steve drops the tape he’s holding and rushes over to you with fists raised. “Are you suggesting there’s something childish about enjoying Jaws?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, noncommittal. You don’t actually believe that, you just have found yourself in this rhetorical hole with Steve before and you don’t really want to get into an actual discussion. That and you love riling him up. It’s easier than committing to a movie to pop into the vcr above the counter and just as entertaining.

“You…I just…ughh.” Steve seems at a loss for words as he grapples with your vague criticism as if it isn’t the thousandth time you’ve had this argument. “That movie is a mature, grown up cinematic masterpiece and I can prove it. Number one,” he holds up one finger. “It is gory as hell. There’s a fuck ton of blood.”

“Violence is your evidence of maturity, Harrington?”

Steve scoffs at you and lifts up a second finger.

“Number two, the score is iconic.” He hunches a little and starts stalking towards you slowly, predatorily. “Duuun uh, duuun uh, dun uh dun uh dun uh - ,”

“I know the score, Steve!” you speak over his crescendoing vocalization.

“Come on! That’s iconic!” You roll your eyes but nod.

“I mean yeah. You got me there.”

“Ahah!” Steve punches the air as if he’s one some massive victory rather than simply receiving your noncommittal agreement on one part of a larger argument. He holds up a third finger. “And to round us out with number three - tits.”

Exactly as he says ‘tits’ - proudly and loudly, you notice - an elderly gentleman walks into the store. He freezes in the doorway looking at the two of you, clearly affronted.

“Good afternoon, sir! Let us know if you need any help!” you hastily speak up, distancing yourself from Steve and plastering on a huge smile. The man harumphs and walks into the store, grumbling something about ‘kids these days.’ You turn and shoot daggers at a sheepish looking Steve.

“Tits? Really?” Your whisper comes out poisonous.

“What’s more mature than tits?” he asks, equally hushed.

“Obviously not you, moron.” You start making your way back to the cart but stop in your tracks, thinking. Instead, you turn back and whisper to him. “Wait…when are there tits in Jaws?”

~*~

Ten minutes later, after the disapproving customer had checked out, copy of Cocoon in hand (a little on the nose, something you tried not to laugh about as you rang him up), you and Steve both stand huddled near the tv hooked up to the VCR.

You’re watching the opening sequence, where two teens are giving each other eyes across the way at a bonfire party. It’s charged. It’s flirtatious. The girl gets up and heads towards the beach, the guy following in hot, drunken pursuit.

It’s a cute moment. A calm before the storm, you think, because of course you know better. You know what’s going to happen in just a few moments. But suspended in time, this couple’s cat and mouse game is sexy. It’s playful.

It’s not the point of the scene, but you feel yourself getting riled up. Not exactly turned on but…what’s the word? Yearning? Pathetic. It’s been a little too long since you’ve gotten any and the heat is getting you your head, you reason with yourself internally.

As the girl gets closer to the water she begins discarding her clothes in preparation for what everyone knows will be her final skinny dip. As she does so, Steve hurtles forward and hits the pause button, freezing her perfectly in time as her shirt comes over her head revealing the silhouette of heavy breasts, mid swing.

“Tits!” Steve cries out, pointing directly at the revealed breasts on screen. “I fucking told you.”

“What do you want, Steve? A cookie?” You make sure your face stays neutral. You don’t want to give away the fact that the sexual implications of the scene have you all hot and bothered. Harrington doesn’t deserve that information.

“You said there weren’t any tits in Jaws.”

“I asked when were there tits in Jaws. I apologize that a pair of movie breasts didn’t imprint chemically in my brain the way they did for you.”

“I’m sorry. When did the prude switch shifts with the trainee? I didn’t get the memo.” Steve says haughtily, ejecting the tape from the VCR and putting it back in its case. Your jaw drops at his words but he pays you no mind, walking back to reshelf the movie. You run after him.

“I’m not a fucking prude, Harrington.”

“Oh I know you’re not. That’s what I’m getting at.” Steve slots Jaws back in its place and heads back towards the break room.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you demand, hot on his trail.

“I’m at the same parties you go to, trainee. I’m not blind. You like to have a good time.” He shrugs, walking up to the beaten old vending machine. It’s much hotter here in the back room than it was out on the main floor, probably due to the lack of windows and fans. Steve kicks the corner of the vending machine and raps his knuckles against the side panel before reaching to type the code for the M&M’s. You lunge forward and beat him to it, slamming your finger down on a different button. “Fuck! Seriously?!”

“You’re really going to slut shame me? Here at work?” You ask, snatching the packet of Reese’s Pieces as it falls into the dispenser tray.

“The pot is very much calling the kettle black here, don’t you think?” Steve kicks the corner of the machine and taps the side again, but instead of beeping in recognition, the machine stays dormant. You pop a candy in your mouth smugly as Steve grunts in frustration.

“I’m not the whore of Hawkins, Harrington. But that might be a title with which you can identify.”

“Nice alliteration, brainiac.” Steve kicks the machine harder this time. Clearly with more malicious intent towards the hulking appliance rather than with the strategy of overriding the payment mechanism.

“You know about alliteration? You didn’t skip that lesson in English class to fondle a bimbo under the bleachers?” You pop another candy in your mouth and fan yourself. The heat is starting to get to you. It is suffocating in this room. Your collar is stuck to your neck and you grab at the front of your shirt, billowing it out to try and stimulate an internal breeze. You look up and find Steve staring at the place where your hand pulls at your clothes, but he’s quick to look away, shoving a hand through his messy hair.

“Oh yeah? I’m not the one pushing my tits together whenever a slightly attractive guy comes in. I swear I saw you almost put your hand down the pants of that ex-football loser who came in here looking for fucking Flash Gordon for the tenth time.”

You gasp at his audacity. Because how dare he say that to you but also because it is objectively untrue. You had lightly flirted with the man, sure. You were bored and he had broad shoulders. Sue you. But Steve has no right to any sort of commentary.

“I’m sorry Mr. This-way-to-the-romance-section-and-while-we’re-at-it-why-don’t-you-come-watch-it-at-my-place Harrington. A blonde with big boobs so much as thinks about walking in here and your eyes are popping out of your head and your tongue is trailing on the floor.”

“You’re using the description of a horny cartoon character to describe me? Nice. Real nice.” Steve bangs on the side of the machine with his fist one more time and you let out a groan.

“Stop beating up the vending machine, for fuck’s sake. Here!” You reach into your pocket and grab a dollar, thrusting it into his face. Steve swats your hand away.

“I have money, trainee.” He reaches into his own pocket and fishes out a dollar which he proceeds to jam unceremoniously into the slot.

You drop yourself into one of the seats at the lunch table and grab for a magazine to fan yourself with.

“Well if you’re so loaded, why are you always stealing snacks?”

Steve ignores you, punching in the correct code this time. When another packet of Reese’s Pieces drops instead of the M&Ms he’d asked for, he lets out massive cry of frustration.

“What the fuck?”

“Well that’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all day,” you say, crossing your arms in your seat and biting your lip to keep from smiling widely.

“What the FUCK!”

“Maybe it’s karma, for being such an asshole to me,” you shrug. Steve whips around, shooting you daggers.

“I’ve had it about up to here with you today, trainee.” He stalks over to the water cooler and rips out a little cone paper cup, accidentally pulling out three too many in the process. You continue fanning yourself with the magazine languidly.

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry dad.”

Steve actually barks a laugh at that and looks at you over his shoulder, filling the paper cup with room temp water.

“You’re not the first to make that association.”

“Oh gross, Harrington. I didn’t ask for insight into your sex life,” you pretend to gag.

Steve knocks back the water and crushes the paper cone in his fist, tossing it over his shoulder as he goes to join you at the table. You are positively irked to notice that he makes it perfectly into the trash without even looking.

“That’s not what I meant but I’m not opposed to being called daddy, fyi,” he says, winking at you.

“I’m sure you’re not. Seems right up your alley.” Your words are derisive but you can’t help the breathless quality they take on. It must be a side effect of this fucking heat. You’re not taking in air properly.

“Yeah? Well I’ll bet you’re really mean between the sheets.”

“Oh you’ll bet that?” you ask with a snort, trying to ignore the paradoxical shiver that runs through your body at the implication.

“Yeah. You seem to derive a sick pleasure from giving me a hard time. Wouldn’t be shocked if insults turn you on.”

“Not a super fan of being degraded, Steve. Sorry to burst your bubble,” you reply lightly. Like his suggestion didn’t just add a palpitation to your heart beat. Steve bites his lip contemplatively.

“Well I really meant that I think you like being the one to dish out the insults,” he clarifies. But then he’s leaning closer to you across the table, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes in the way your posture is scrunching defensively. “But actually now that I think of it…I feel like you probably would like being degraded.”

“Excuse me?” you exhale sharply, realizing you’d been holding your breath as his proximity increased.

“You’re a perfectionist. A good girl, or you are most of the time, as we’ve established.” Steve’s finger slides across the table towards you and your gaze locks on its approaching motion. “I could see you looking for an excuse to let go of all that pressure. To be bad.”

You’ve stopped breathing again, mesmerized by his slow words and the trajectory of his sliding finger. Then suddenly he’s reaching out and snatching the half empty bag of Reese’s Pieces from your grasp, upending it in the air above his face and crunching down on the remaining candy.

“Hey!” you cry out, lunging for him only to be stopped by his defensive hand outstretching and catching you, holding you an arm length away. Steve makes a face.

“It’s a crime that this is peanut butter instead of chocolate.”

You grab him by the front of the shirt and get very close to him, glaring up into his stupid, pretty face.

“You’ll pay for that, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah? How?” he asks. His eyes are looking down into yours, the remnants of his smirk slowly fading from his face. The heat is sweltering. Hotter than it’s been during your entire shift and you really should run out the front door for some air before you pass out but…you’re rooted to the spot.

You inhale in order to respond - not even sure of what you’ll say once the words start flowing - but you’re immediately interrupted by the ding of the bell on the front door.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

The customer’s voice cuts through the tension between you and you let go of Steve’s shirt like it’s on fire.

“Just a minute!” you call out in your sing-song-y customer service voice. You hear Steve groan behind you but you don’t give him a second thought as you dash out onto the floor of the store.

The same grumpy man from earlier stands at the counter, grumpier than ever and brandishing his tape towards you.

“I got all the way home just to realize that the wrong tape is in this blasted box.” He wrenches open the case for Cocoon to reveal a copy of Tootsie. You try not to laugh at his absurdly wounded expression and grab the tape from him.

“I am so sorry, sir, we’ll get this sorted for you,” you assure, turning around to let out a silent chuckle. You shuffle through the bare tapes on the counter and find the correct one, silently cursing Steve for his disorganization.

“This is unacceptable, young lady,” the old man grumbles as you put the Cocoon tape in its box.

“Everyone makes mistakes, unfortunately.”

“I expect a higher quality of service. I fought on D Day, you know.”

“We did not know that, thank you for your service,” Steve mumbles sarcastically coming up beside you behind the counter. The man doesn’t catch his facetiousness and wags a fervent finger.

“That’s right. I should be treated with some respect.”

“Without a doubt,” Steve replies. You silently snap the tape box closed and hand it over, trying not to look annoyed.But the man doesn’t take it from you. Instead he points over at the stack of tapes where you had placed the copy of Tootsie.

“She tried to give me a movie with a man in a dress,” he accuses and you scoff. Steve glances over, clocking which movie it is and no doubt realizing that the mistake was his own.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, she was doing you a favor, because Dustin Hoffman is just a delight - ,”

“As her manager, I think you should fire her,” the man interrupts Steve.

“Excuse me?” you ask, shocked at his audacity. Steve holds his hands up in a time out symbol.

“First of all, I’m not her manager, and second of all. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She gave me a fruity movie!” the man cries out.

“Ok then,” you push away from the counter and head towards the back room, completely done with this interaction.

“Sir, fruit is delicious,” Steve argues, distracted as he watches you stalk off to the back, anxious to follow. The old man wags his finger even more violently.

“I’ll be telling the owner, just you wait. Do you take me for a fruit, young man?” he raises his voice.

“Yeah a raisin, sir. Please get out of my store.” Steve’s voice lowers in tone, but the authority in it increases tenfold. “Now.”

~*~

Steve finds you pacing around the break room, a paper water cone crushed in your hand. He approaches to comfort you, but the second he enters, you round on him.

“How could you do that to me?”

“Do what? Defend you?” Steve’s bewildered by your reaction, hands up in the air in front of himself defensively.

“I wouldn’t need defending if you weren’t such a fuck up at your job, Steve.” You flail a hand in the direction of the front counter.

“You said it yourself that everyone makes mistakes.”

“I was lying, Harrington. I don’t make mistakes. You make enough for the both of us.” You go to turn away from him but he grabs your elbow.

“Oh what, and you’re Ms. Fucking Perfect? Huh?” You wrench your elbow out his grasp.

“In comparison to you? Hell yeah.”

“That’s rich,” Steve barks out a laugh, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. His stance squares off with you and he too points out toward the front counter. “How many times have I had to save you from customers who are asking for films you’ve never fucking heard about?”

“Shut up, Steve,” you roll your eyes and Steve gets more emphatic.

“How many times have I had to come stop some creep who’s being weird to you?”

“Oh fuck you. My hero. My white knight, scaring away the big bad men,” you say in a mocking tone. You cross your arms over your chest and for the first time since walking into the back room Steve notices that you have unbuttoned a large portion of the top buttons on your shirt, probably due to the heat. With your arms folded over your chest, he can see your cleavage and he swallows. You notice and drop your arms with a scoff. “You fucking pervert. You’re no better than the rest of them!”

“What? What?!” Steve blusters, trying to play off the fact that you caught him staring.

“You’re a fucking horn dog, that’s what.”

“Oh please.” He turns around with a dismissive laugh and you step forward to follow him, staying in his space.

“You know what I think? I think the reason you give me a hard time is because I never gave you the time of day,” you declare, putting your hands on your hips. The heat is rising within you now. The air is stifling and electric around you as Steve takes an angry step closer to you and you feel crackling as if you’re in the middle of a heat lightning storm.

“Well you’re way off base with that theory, trainee,” Steve bites out. He’s smirking at you. Goddamn smirking at you as if he’s got the upperhand in spite of what you’ve just accused him of.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because I know you asked Robin if I was single when you first started working here,” he says smugly. He folds his arms across his own chest now and you curse your fucking eyes because they widen while taking in the way his biceps now look. Large and defined as his sleeves shift up.

“So? That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe I just wanted to know if you were cheating on a girlfriend with all the flirting you insist on doing,” you manage to reply coolly. But Steve’s shaking his head before you even finish your statement.

“I believe your words were - and I quote - ‘Is Steve single? Because he’s hot as fuck. I’d let that boy bend me over the break room table’.” His voice takes on a high pitched mocking quality as he approximates your tone.

Your eyes blow wide and your jaw drops to the floor.

“Robin, that bitch.”

“Don’t blame Robin for your horny fantasies, trainee.” He’s got a smile on his face that you just want to slap off. Your fingers flex at your sides but you hold yourself back, taking a deep breath.

“Then you don’t blame her for the fact that she told me you get a semi every time I wear these jeans?”

Steve’s eyes practically bug out of his head and dart down to look at the jeans in question. You quirk an eye up, your turn to smile.

“I - what? No!”

“So she lied? This doesn’t do it for you?” you ask, turning slightly and leaning on the back of a chair so that your ass stuck out a little, accentuating your curves. Steve’s gaze drops to your ass before pinballing all the way around the room, desperately looking at anything and everything other than you.

“That’s not…you’re full of…”

“No, you’re full of it, Harrington. Admit it,” you say, straightening up and pointing at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, standing a little straighter and looking at you now that you’re no longer presenting your ass to him.

“You find me irresistable,” you accuse. Steve laughs loudly and without humor.

“And yet here I am. Perfectly capable of resisting,” he says, standing his ground. “Meanwhile you’re practically throwing yourself at me.”

“You fucking wish!”

“In your dreams.”

“In my nightmares.”

The next few seconds seem to play out, paradoxically, both sped up and in slow motion. The heat fills the space around you, almost thick enough to cushion the air. And then Steve’s body is hurtling towards yours. Or yours towards his - you can’t be sure. All you are aware of is movement and then contact. The woosh of air and then the solidness of impact.

Steve’s hands are on your waist, pulling your body against his as his lips crash against yours. Your hands are in his hair before you can even think about it, your movements automatic and entirely involuntary as far as you’re concerned. Fingers fisting in his locks you kick yourself internally because they feel exactly like you thought they would. Fucking pretty haired pretty boy.

His tongue is at the seam of your lips, forcing your mouth open ruthlessly and you comply, allowing him to sweep inside. Steve turns his head to the side, deepening the kiss and pushing down into you until you feel yourself being folded back, his hand sliding to your tailbone to support you through the dip.

When he pulls away, both of you gasping for air, he doesn’t move far, instead dipping to suck biting kisses against your throat.

“You gonna tell me to stop?”

His words don’t make any sense as they enter your hazy brain. One of your hands drops to his shoulder, grasping. Clinging really as he delivers a particularly rough suck to the place beneath your ear.

“W-what?”

“If you hate me so much this must be torture for you,” he breathes into your skin. The smugness has returned to his voice, muted though it is against your throat.

“I fucking hate you, Harrington,” you seethe. He’s laughing now against your throat.

“I know, that’s what I just said - ,”

You cut him off by roughly grabbing him by the hair and bringing him back to your lips. The moan he looses into your mouth has you humming with a satisfaction that seeps deep down into your core. He’s not getting the upper hand so easily. Not if you have anything to say about it.

Now on a single-minded mission to ruin him, you reach down and splay your hand out against his lower back, rolling your hips forward in tandem with the motion in order to grind your pelvis against his. He lets out a groan that you feel in your extremities, so you repeat the move.

Suddenly the hands that are on your waist drop to your hips and wrench you around so your back is to him. The twirl disorients you and you gasp, blinking at the back of the break room and panting as Steve’s hands pull you back - ass against his pelvis.

He slaps a hand on the back of your thigh - making you whine - and slides up your curve to grip a handful of your ass.

“I’ll be the bigger person,” he says with a heavy chuckle into your ear. “I can admit these jeans do it for me.”

A laugh rocks through your body in spite of yourself.

“Oh yeah? They giving you a semi?” you ask jokingly. Steve pulls you back against him, hips bracketing your ass, and you feel him pressing into you. Hard. Nothing semi about it.

“What do you think?” His voice is gruff now, his lower half grinding slowly, deliberately into yours.

“I think you’re hard,” you say on an exhale. His laugh is full throated and his grip on your hips tighten.

“Very observant, trainee. A+ work.” His face buries itself into the crook between your neck and shoulder, lips toying with the skin there.

“Don’t call me trainee.” Your voice is breathless but for once there is no menace in it when you say the sentence you’ve yelled at him a million times.

“No? What should I call you then?” His lips are at your ear. His fingertips dig into your hips and push you back into him. Making you feel him. “Baby? Darling?”

You let out a gasping laugh when he bucks into you from behind, knocking you off balance a bit so you have to lean forward and grasp the edge of the table. He follows you down, chest still against your back.

“...slut?”

You’d love it if your response was to laugh in his face. To pry his hands off of you, straighten up your clothes, and walk out the door. But that’s not what happens.

You moan.

He says the word and you moan.

It’s dark and filthy and you feel hot shame the minute it issues from your mouth, but the way his fingers tense immediately has got heat pooling directly between your thighs.

“Holy shit.”

“I…that doesn’t…”

“Holy shit!” His words are laughing and victorious and he’s nuzzling his face over your shoulder even as you try to crouch away. “I fucking called it.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” you argue, even as your back arches slightly and find yourself rocking back into him. His hand slides over the slope of your hip to the front of your jeans.

“You moaned, trainee. I called you a slut and you moaned.” Steve’s hand cups your mound then, middle finger pressing up into the center seam of your jeans.

“F-fuck…” You swivel your hips to grind down into his hand, suddenly getting a taste of the friction you’d begun to crave.

Steve uses his hand between your legs to ground you against him, giving him leverage with which to rub his hard-on directly into your ass.

“You can lie all you want. Calling you a slut is making you writhe for me…like a cute little slut.”

You huff out an exhale and look over your shoulder at him.

“Is it the word or the fact that you’re practically fingering me through my jeans and humping me? Which is it, Steve?”

His cocky smile only widens and he shoots forward to steal a kiss over your shoulder since you’re looking at him.

“Both?”

“Oh christ, Harrington…” you trail off as his hand slides up and starts opening your jeans.

“You do have a point though…” he says, biting his lip in concentration. He yanks your jeans down over your ass, leaving them bunched around your knees. His hand cups you through your underwear before yanking them to the side, fingers sweeping directly over your wet slit as you shiver. “Through the jeans wasn’t that efficient.”

“Pretty boy worries about efficiency?” you ask derisively. His finger has found your clit with no problem and your knees are feeling weaker by the second, but you definitely aren’t going to go easy on him.

“Being pretty isn’t the only thing I’m good at, you know,” he says with humor. You find the wherewithal to reach back and peel his other hand off your hip, bringing it to close around your breast. Steve intakes breath sharply.

“Same,” you reply with a smirk. He gropes you experimentally through your shirt before rooting underneath the hem to find your bra-clad breast.

“So you think you’re pretty?” he taunts.

“You do.”

“I think you’re pretty or I think I’m pretty?” Steve asks, pulling your breast out of the cup and pinching your nipple just as he sinks a finger into your pussy.

“Fuck…the first one…both…just shut up,” you grit out and arch your back.

“I knew you’d been mean to me,” Steve quips before sinking his teeth lightly into your shoulder.

“Steve, do you want to fuck me?” you ask, voice tinged with annoyance. His head shoots over your shoulder to try and get a look at your face.

“I can fuck you?” He sounds like an enthusiastic puppy dog and your heart lurches in spite of itself.

“Not if you keep making fun of me, you can’t,” you say, though there’s humor in the words.

“Ahh, you can dish it but you can’t take it. I get it. That’s cool.” Steve’s tone is casual. The exact opposite of his actions as he slowly adds another finger into your dripping channel. You keen forward, both from the force of the pleasure and from the way your reaction makes him grind his dick even harder against your ass.

“Um…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“So…are you going to fuck me?”

Your question makes him laugh and has his hips stuttering against you.

“Eager to make the fantasy of me bending you over this table a reality?”

“No. Eager to fast forward to the part where you wake up having creamed your pj’s thinking of me,” you retort, this time with a massive smile on your face as you recall the story you’d been told about Steve’s wet dreams. Steve groans.

“Fucking Robin,” he says, letting go of your breast to reach down and open his own pants.

“She’s the worst,” you agree. The anticipation is mounting and sweat drips off your brow. You’d down on your elbows now, bent over the table, and you can’t see Steve behind you, but you can hear the rustle of clothing. He yanks your jeans and underwear down to your ankles suddenly and you yelp and he nudges your thighs open so your legs are spread hip-width apart.

You wait a few breathless heart beats until the sound of skin on skin - which does not include your own - has you looking over your shoulder.

Steve is standing behind you, his own pants pooled at his feet, with his cock in his hand. He’s gripping it, giving it long, slow strokes as his eyes hungrily consume your half-bare body.

“I…think you might kill me,” he says seriously, dragging his eyes up from your pussy to your face. You gesture down to the cock he is fisting, eyeing the size.

“Back at you.”

He laughs at your response and heat rushes through you at how beautiful he looks with the smile cracking his face wide. You want him. Now.

So you turn back around and bend yourself over the table again, shifting side to side to sway your ass at him enticingly.

Steve’s on you not even a second later. His hands smooth over your hips and waist and his cock slides between your legs, between your folds.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He’s repeating the phrase over and over under his breath and you’d laugh but you’re feeling similarly speechless. Impatient now, you reach back and take his cock in your hand, making him hiss. You arch and lean forward, guiding his tip into you until his hands grip your hips and he steps forward, slipping in inch by inch.

“Oh fuck,” you both swear, practically in unison. Steve remains still for a second to let you adjust, and also to ground himself as he takes in all of what is happening in this moment.

You find yourself nearly shaking from the feel of him inside you. He feels so good and it’s been a long, empty summer so far. Of course you’re horny, you reason with yourself in your head as you shift forward, trying to entice him to move, which he does. He’s hot and you’re horny and and it feels good. It feeels good.

“Yeah? Feels good?”

Shit. You’ve been speaking your thoughts out loud. You go to contradict him - to take it back - but then he’s kissing your neck and you can’t help but hum.

“Yeah. It’s good.”

He finds a steady pace before the his words return again, this time more hoarse than before.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groans out, thrusting into you particularly hard. Feeling sweat slick your skin you laugh.

“It’s because there’s no fan in here.”

“Oh, she’s shy about compliments suddenly,” Steve intuits and you roll your eyes, though he can’t see it. “She knows she’s hot but doesn’t want me to point it out?”

“Steve…” you warn, but there’s little else you can do as he reaches a hand down to the apex of your thighs and starts fingering your clit. You grip numbly at the table.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop talking about your incredible body?” he teases, his other hand coming down flat over your back to push you further down into the table before reclaiming your hip. “How good it feels to be inside you?”

“You’re a cocky bastard,” you say, but it comes out in a whine. You’re record-breakingly close to cumming and your brain and body seem disconnected. Unsure of what to do about the short circuiting feeling of shame and pleasure and annoyance and fondness, all of which are completely Steve’s fault.

“You’ve got that right, sweetheart,” he responds, inhaling sharply when you clench around him in response. “What’s that? So you like being called sweetheart?”

“Mmmm,” is all you manage to moan out, though he takes it correctly as an affirmation. He has both hands gripping your waist now, allowing nothing to distract him from pounding into you, chasing his own release now while also rocketing you towards your own.

“So you do like a little sweetness after all.” It’s teasing but you’re too fucked out to care at this point. So close. So close. Steve’s kissing the spot under your ear as he slows down to fuck you harder. Deeper. “Good thing I like it sweet. That’s how I’ve always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

Is it cheesy? Yes. Is it something that usually would have you slapping him and walking away? Yes.

But now you’re cumming. Crying out his name as his cock slides into you, your walls bearing down and spasming around him.

You don’t even know where your orgasm ends and his begins, you’re so blinded by pleasure. But he’s shaking around you and his hips are stuttering and then his weight is pressing you into the table as he pants.

There’s a split second where your shared breathe is all you can sense. His skin on yours has you buzzing and your muscles are jelly. You don’t even have a moment to think about repercussions or right or wrong. There’s just…Steve.

And then the bell rings in the distance indicating someone has entered the front door.

“Hellooo!” Comes Robin’s sing song voice. “Do my sad single friends want to hear how my date went?”

~*~

Read Part 2 Here

Steve / Stranger Things tag list (some of these are assumptions based on your interactions with my posts about my steve fic, so sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!): @boomhauer @asbisexualasitgets @bluetreecloud20 @flightless-b1rds let-my-ship-sail @fandomsimper @livlovelaughh @maggiemaes-stuff @adultnitemares @wonderfulw0rldx @bellaiscool @halolani supe-r-nova r4nd0mf4nd0mz25 spookyreidd cmlover101 coolestgirlhere jadenswifey22 ashleighjadecharlton everybodywantstobetouched uhcastiels monsterhighprincess99 misaamaneswifey steveharringtonsdaddy getoutandtouchtherain alexxavicry craze4bau sabrinablack194 iseultult devonisntreal navybluebitch macey730 izbot6 sweetkyotto @millenialcatlady creme-delacreme s-trawberryv-eins amatchinwater vamdevil xoxchanxl mrssharrington edwardmunsn moonyscardigans wayward-rose

#steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington fanfic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x fem!reader #fem!reader

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gglitch1dd · 1 year

Text

Good Evening

Alpha Bakugou x Omega Reader

Warning: Pregnancy, OMEGAVERSE, SMUT, domestic fluff, romance, top Katsuki, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, overall Katsuki being horny for his Omega

Linked to "Good Morning" With Eijiro x Reader.

You sat carefully slipped on your shoes right as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Tonight was a special night. A night that you had spend weeks planning because of your husband’s busy schedule. It was finally Bakugou’s birthday, the one day of the year that you were allowed to spoil him and he wouldn’t question it. It was also the one day of the year that he didn’t try and find out your plans that you had in store for him whenever you started acting suspicious.

You let out a breath as you looked over at yourself in the mirror. Today was very important. You had a lot held in store for your Alpha tonight and you were hoping that by the time you got downstairs where he should be by now (judging by your natural Katsuki-clock that you had set in to your own being). Tonight you were already wearing comfortable enough clothes for what you had in store for him. Despite trying to look fancy enough for the occasion, you also didn’t want to over do it.

With a confident breath, you stood up from your vanity and made your way out your bedroom. You climbed the steps to find that the blond haired Alpha was already waiting for you by the front door. His head turning to look at you as he looked away from the pictures on the wall. His crimson gaze locking onto your figure as you descended the stairs.

There was many thing you loved about your Alpha, but there was just a certain way he does things that you couldn’t help but love. From the way that he stood, assurance in every step no matter how he was thinking. The way his crimson eyes, that which reminded you of the deepest and richest of wines that you could only taste on a good night out, would look at things with such an intensity, you were surprised that they weren’t consumed in the flames of his gaze. His soft tufts of hair that were rather wild and untameable and yet uniquely his. Even now as he stood at the bottom of the stairs, with his hands in his pants and soft smirk pulling to his lips, dressed to impress with a button down and looking too good to be just for you, you couldn’t help but thank the heavens that he was all yours.

Bakugou opened his arms and carefully pulled you into his arms and his embrace. “Looks like all that money you spend on clothes is worth it.” He let out lowly.

You chuckled. “It’s always worth it Katsuki.”

He hummed in disapproval despite his face. His eyes looked you up and down before pulling you against him and placing a kiss to your lips, a satisfied rumble coming out of his chest. You purred back at his warm embrace, keeping your hands on his chest as you reached up to meet him. He chuckled and leaned back. “Good evening, Omega.” He let out lowly against your lips. “I see you want to spoil me tonight.”

You nodded your head with a smile. “Of course. Your birthday only comes once a year.” You reminded him as you took his large hands in your own. “I’ve got to spoil you, Tsuki.” You teased using the nickname that you knew he hated.

Bakugou groaned as he rolled his eyes. “You’ve really got to stop using that fucking nickname.” He stated annoyed.

“But why?” You tilted your head. “It suits you so well, Tsuki.”

“Okay, Y/N it’s not funny anymore.”

“Tsuki-bear.”

“Stop.”

“Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsu-”

Your voice stopped in your throat as he lifted a hand up to your throat, not squeezing but the presence of it there was enough to stop your thoughts and actions entirely. You looked up at him with a building tension between your legs as you looked up at him. He smirked at the spike in your scent but mostly at how quick it was to shut you up. He shook his head with a low chuckle. “Sometimes I wonder why I had to be mated to the biggest brat on this planet?”

You lifted up an eyebrow. “Maybe you should ask Eijiro how he feels being friends with you.”

Bakugou went stiff for a moment, his ears turning red for a moment before letting go of you and scowling. He turned away from you to the front door making you laugh at his sharp change of tune. “Let’s fucking go already. We’re going to be late for our reservation.” He gruffed out, his hands shoved into his pockets like he did whenever he was pouty.

You watched the large blond Alpha stand by your front door amusedly. You tilted your head to the side with a raised eyebrow. “And who said I made reservations, Katsuki?” You asked him.

He turned to you confused, his eyebrows furrowed. “Then why the fuck did you tell me to get cleaned up?”

“You had just come back from work.” You laughed motioning to him. “I don’t need you smelling like smoke and who knows what.” You approached him and gently took his warm hands. That was something else you loved about him. His hands. They were like mini warmers. Although you knew that he got really self-conscious about how they could get sweaty because of his quirk, you loved them (even though they did get sweaty- but you wouldn’t tell him that). “Come on.” You motioned behind you. “Lets go.” You urged from him with a gentle simple as you dragged him away from the front door.

Bakugou gave you a sceptical look. He was a naturally sceptical person. He often saw a glass as half empty than half full. However, as you led him you noticed his hand tighten around yours. If there was anything, Bakugou would trust you with his life. He would happily let you lead him into the unknown if it ever came down to it.

The both of you walked through the house you shared in the Pack A estate. It wasn’t a long trek before you led him to the back of the house to the back sliding door. Bakugou let go of your hand as he was stuck staring at outside. You pushed open the sliding door before pulling the shocked Alpha outside. Out in your backyard was a picnic set up for just the two of you. There was a picnic basket and drinks, with candles and petals. It looked more like a set up for valentines day than something for his birthday.

“Sorry, I had to get the fake candles with the batteries just encase one of Izuku’s rabbits came by. I didn’t want to be on the news for getting murdered by the Number One hero because I burned one of his rabbits alive.”

Despite his shock, Bakugou couldn’t help but let out a scoff. “Deku always was attached to those breeding monsters.” You let out a laugh at that before pulling him down onto the picnic blanket. Bakugou couldn’t help but admire everything. It was beautiful and it was clear that you knew him well enough to know that he would have just wanted a nice night with you alone for his birthday this year. With the sun having set and the lights of the candles, he couldn’t help but smile at what you had done for him.

“-so I also got you birthday cupcakes and look! They’re Dynamight themed! And I know you hate flowers but I think you would like the petals but-”

“It’s perfect.” Bakugou interrupted you, taking your hand in his. For a moment he gave you one of his rare genuine smiles that held nothing but pure adoration and love for you. The soft scent of smokey caramel and cinnamon wafted to your nose in a perfect blend that you only knew as your husband. “Thank you.” He told you with something so gentle you didn’t think it could be created from the hands of someone with a quirk that caused nothing but destruction.

You softened your own gaze. You lifted a hand up to his face, wiping at his cheek. “Anything for you, Katsuki.” You told him honestly.

Bakugou and you had your dinner together, something that you always treasured with him. Meals with him were always something that you treasured. It was one of the love languages you shared. Whether good or bad food, just sitting together in the intimacy of sharing a meal in each other’s company was enough for the both of you.

Meals between the both of you were always filled with either stifled or loud laughter as well as filled with stories from your day or from the past. You loved it when Bakugou talked. Sometimes he was more shouting than he was talking, but when he truly just talked to you and shared something with you because you knew he felt safe enough to, always made you smile.

“Okay, okay, come on, open up this one.” You told him, handing one of his presents towards him. The blond Alpha let out a disapproving grumble from his throat but accepted the present regardless. “Come on, this one is from Head Alpha.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.” He stated as he looked at the odd box in his hands. He shook it.

“Katsuki!”

He stopped as he looked up at you. He let out a huff before moving to rip off the orange bow on it. He opened the box and looked inside. He paused for a moment before letting out an annoyed scoff. “That shitty haired idiot.” He set down the box before lifting up a new recipe book. He fought off a smile as he looked at it with a odd smirk. On the front of the recipe book was a picture of the both of them, Bakugou shoving a cupcake in Kirishima’s mouth. The title of the book was called Cooking Mishaps with Blastie. You couldn’t help but chuckle. Bakugou lifted up the card in the box and read it. “Dear Katsuki, Happy birthday man. I know this birthday will be one to remember and I hope you love every second of it. I hope you love the gift. It took a while to remember all the recipes that you taught me since High School (most of which I haven’t gotten right, but it was worth putting together. I hope that we can add a second volume together, as we continue in our lives together. Forever yours, Eijiro.” You watched as his face was moulded into something so pure of happiness and appreciation of what his best friend had written. “PS. I have my own book. So that we can match.” Bakugou shook his head with a tsk. “Ever since he learned that his Omega is pregnant, I swear he turned more sappy than he already was.”

You chuckled as you rested a hand on your own stomach. “Well there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yah… but no.”

You laughed before lifting up another present. “This one is from Izu- KATSUKI!” The blond had lifted it up to throw it away from the both of you. With a stern look from you he paused and put the box back down gently. “Open it!” You pointed down to the gift box that he had received from his oldest friend.

Bakugou rolled his eyes before moving to open the box, before the box moved. His eyes widened in fear as he stared down at the box for a moment before flicking his eye up at you. “If this thing blows up, I’m blaming you.” You gave him a pointed look before motioning for him to open it. Even more paranoid, the blond Alpha carefully put his ear to the box, listening for any ticking or indication of a bomb (Which was more his style but he had to be careful after what he gave Midoriya for his last birthday). Being sure that the gift was safe, he opened it. His shoulders dropped. “Fuck me.” He groaned. Before lifting up out of the box, one of Midoriya’s rabbits with a Dynamight head band on. Finally it made sense to you why the box had holes in it. There was a letter attached to it that read Happy Birthday Kacchan. You laughed at the gift. Bakugou placed the rabbit to the side and out of the box, knowing that eventually the little animal would find its way back to the Midoriya residence and if not would hop around the estate. He lifted up a small picture frame of the two of them when Bakugou was five years old, the both of them wearing bee themed antennas and party hats, two bright smiling pups. He shook his head with a tsk. “Fucking nerd. What’s next.” He stated putting the gift to the side and patting the rabbit on the head for a moment.

“It’s my gift!” You told him optimistically with a smile. You handed him a box of your own.

“What’s up with people and boxes.” He grumbled as he took the gift from you. As he moved to open it, you carefully lifted the rabbit into your arms. The fluffy little creature looking up at you with it’s Dynamight headband. You giggled at the little animal before setting it back down into the grass to hop back to the Midoriyas. Bakugou removed the card of the gift first, opening it. “Dear Katsuki, Happy birthday…” He looked up at you. You motioned for him to continue to read it. He sighed. “I feel so grateful to have watched you over the past years that we have been together and I feel so unbelievably lucky to have you as my husband, my mate and my Alpha. You mean the world to me and I can only say thank you for allowing me to stay at your side…” He looked back up at you with gentle crimson eyes. He scoffed with a smile before shaking his head. “It’s more the other way around, idiot.” He said lowly as he cleared his throat to continue reading. “Happy birthday my love. From me and someone else special.” Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows at that last part. “Who the fuck-”

You were quiet for the most part, the anxiety eating you up. You motioned to the box. “Open it.” You said quieter than you had been all night.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow before looking down at the box. He carefully removed the lid and moved around the packaging paper. Then he paused. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment. He lifted up a small onesie. It was much too small for him and too big for the bunny as well. It was themed as his hero costume. The blond Alpha tilted his head to the side as he looked at the outfit. “When did they start making these?” He said confused, before looking at you. Your Alpha seemed to be rather dense today. You didn’t say anything, just shrugging. Bakugou let out a hum as he lifted up another card. He let out a breath. “Another bloody card, alright let me see… Dear-” His breath hitched as he froze. He looked at you in pure disbelief. You fought the tears as you just nodded your head. Bakugou looked at you scared, almost as if it was a greater villain than anything he had ever faced. He shakily looked down at the card again. He swallowed hard before continuing. “Dear Poppa. Happy birthday. This birthday, I’m snuggled safe within Mom’s tummy so you don’t have to worry about me. See you next birthday, safe in your arms next. I can’t wait to meet you, Pops. Love… Love Baby Bump.” Bakugou shakely put down the card to look up at you.

You smiled at him with a bright smile with tears in your eyes.“Happy birthday!” You whispered.

The blond Alpha dropped his shoulders. His pupils dilated consuming his crimson eyes. He let out a breath as you lifted his hands up to his eyes. “Fuck.” He whispered. He tried so hard to control his emotions but more tears just came to his eyes. He sniffed wiping his eyes before looking back up at you. He carefully moved closer towards you, pulling you into his arms with a tight hug. Your own shoulders dropped in relief as you let out a silent gasp, clutching onto him tighter. He moved back slightly looking at you still trying to grapple with what was going on. “You… Baby, you’re…”

You nodded your head with a gentle smile. “Yah. I’m pregnant.”

“How long have you known?” He asked you quietly.

“Two weeks.”

He closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours. His hands moved over to your waist, his thumbs brushing your abdomen. He fought back a sob. He rest his head in the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you, a loud rumble escaping his chest as tears flowed down his face. “Thank you.” He whispered to you.

You smiled with a happy chirp escaping you. This had been something the two of you had talked about and something you knew he had been wanting. Although Bakugou had never thought he would ever have a family, always thinking of himself as too brash or too wild or unsavoury for the domestic life. But you showed him that even people like him could have the life they wanted. You were glad that he was so happy about the news of a pup, a weight being taken off your shoulders in worry.

Bakugou kissed your mark on your neck before moving to kiss your lips. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around him with a smile against his lips. He couldn’t help but hold you tighter, keeping you pressed up against him in want. You purred into his embrace pulling him impossibly closer. Bakugou let out a stuttered breath, before deepening the kiss.

You hummed as he let out a low groan as he kept you against him. The blond Alpha’s large hands moved across your skin before grabbing at your waist and moving down to your hips. He pushed back against you. You chuckled at his eagerness and sudden want for you. You carefully leaned back, lifting a finger up to his lips. “Upstairs.” You whispered with a smile. “Then I’m all yours.”

With a low growl and little to no patience, your Alpha lifted you up into his arms making you release a short scream. Holding you over his shoulder, he raced inside making you giggle. You rarely saw Bakugou excited for a lot of things but whenever he was alone with you, made you see that side with him, especially as he raced up the stairs.

The blond gave little care as he kicked open the door and placed you down on the bed swiftly. You giggled once you found yourself on the bed, looking up at the blond Alpha who had his crimson eyes filled with lust and love for you only aimed at you. He slowly crawled on top of you before capturing your lips with his. You let out a hum at the kiss, your hands moving up his body, one finding itself deep in his hair.

Bakugou kissed you passionately and hungrily as he moved to tug at your clothes, wanting to rip them off of you. He was desperate for you. Much too desperate to care about anything other than bullying his knot inside of you. “Off.” You heard him growl lowly as his palms started to heat up. “All of it… off.” With a tug, you watched as the front of your clothes turned to cinders as he ripped the rest away from you. You gasped, finally getting some much needed air as he tore his own shirt and pants off his body.

Bakugou was quick to find his lips to your scent glands, kissing at your mating mark that he gave you, making you mewl in pleasure at the feeling. His hands traced down your body, over your chest and just over your abdomen for a moment. A shiver ran down his back as a rumble left his chest. The thought that he did that to you, that he put his pup inside of you, made him want to skip foreplay and just pound you into the bedsheets without a single care in the world. It felt like he was falling into a rut with you around him like this. He groaned as he pushed his thick fingers inside of you, two fingers already moving in and out of you to spread you open for him.

You gasped as you arched your back slightly, trying to pull him closer against you. “Katsuki…” You whispered his name into the air as you relaxed back into the sheets, letting him do as he wished. It was the least you could do for his birthday.

Bakugou wanted to hear more of you saying his name tonight. Which was why curved his fingers just right to have you moaning out loudly into the night air just for him to hear. He grinned down at you, with that devilish smirk of his that left you speechless more than once. “Yah… there you go. Being such a good Omega and taking my fingers inside you.” He praised as he moved his fingers in and out, leaving you basically defenceless to his onslaught of pleasure to your body.

The blond Alpha moved his thumb to rub at your clit and you could feel yourself twitch and clench immediately. “Oh fuck, Katsuki!” You cried as you tightened your hold on him, digging your nails into his back to try and steady yourself. It was almost like he was always able to make you shiver at just touching you. “Just like that! Don’t stop!” You begged.

He chuckled. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. It is my birthday after all, but since you’ve been such a good breeder for me, I’ll reward you tonight.” He tilted his head before moving to suck at your neck where your mating mark was.

You moaned as you twisted and turned, the pleasure over coming you as you found your thighs shaking in ecstasy. “Alpha! I- Fuck!” Your thighs clamped around his hand, but it didn’t stop a very determined Bakugou from guiding you through your orgasm. A muffled squeal left you as you felt Bakugou bite at your mark simultaneously, making you feel so bare towards him. However, he didn’t stop immediately making a whimper escape you. “K-katsuki, Alpha, I- I… ah… I can’t take anymore.” He hummed, letting go of you, redrawing his hand that was now covered in slick.

He always loved how wet you would get for him, how much you couldn’t help but succumb to your instincts whenever you were with him. With his other hand he pushed your thighs apart as he looked down at you. You watched him lick his hand with a hum, looking at his hand in desire. Despite the ache in his gums at wanting to just dive his head between your thighs, Bakugou was too impatient for that right now. He wrapped his hand around his cock making you bite back a whimper at the sight. He had that smirk on his face that told you that he was going to be rough with you. You wanted to enjoy it while he was still willing to.

Bakugou guided his cock to your entrance, pressing into you making you gasp as you automatically tensed for a moment. The blond Alpha above you groaned as he pushed his cock inside you, feeling you suck him in and tighten around him like a vice. He let out a low growl at the feeling as he tightened his hands on your thighs. You whimpered at the feeling of his long cock inside you. Finally pushing all the way in, Bakugou let out a groan.

“Fuck you feel good.” He rubbed your inner thighs as he stayed above you. He took a moment to enjoy the feeling of being one with you, a feeling he would never get over. Bakugou looked down at you and for a moment his gaze softened. You were the Omega that captured his heart, enchanted his soul and drove him insane with how much he loved you. He wanted to hate you for making him feel and act like a fool, but you gave him a home. He couldn’t hate you for making his home worth living in. He bent down and placed a tender kiss to your lips.

You smiled into the kiss, knowing exactly what he was saying without saying it directly. “I love you too, Katsuki.” You whispered against his lips.

He scoffed with a tilt of his head. “Yah, you better…” He shot at you before putting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes for a moment. “I love you.” He whispered.

Without wasting another second more, Bakugou found himself thrusting into you like a man on a mission. You let out a moan as you rolled your eyes back at the perfect feeling of his cock inside you. You hummed in pleasure as you enjoyed the feeling of the head of his cock pounding into you and the feeling of every vein of his cock brushing against your velvety walls.

You moaned like a slut on his cock but you didn’t remotely care. Not when he was touching you the way he was touching you, or fucking you the way he was fucking you. There was something so intimate about him staring down at you, his eyes never leaving your body as your body jiggled and was pounded by him. His eyes dilated and filled with want for you.

Bakugou dragged a hand down to your abdomen, feeling the baby bump you had there. It only increased his pace and devours of fucking you. He was your Alpha, no one else and there wouldn’t be anyone else. Call him crazy, but just the sight of you liked this made him feel damn right feral. Here you were, carrying his pup and giving him the best birthday present he could have received. If he could keep you like this, full and happy on his cock, he would.

You cried out as he thrusted against a specific part inside of you that had you seeing stars and going light headed for a moment. You closed your eyes in pleasure as you grabbed at your breasts in pleasure.

You felt a harsh hand tug at your face, forcing you to look up at him. “Uh uh. Look at me when I fuck you!” He growled down at you as he didn’t skip a bit as he bounded into you. His hand moved to your neck, tightening around you which only made you leak more slick onto his cock. “You want me to continue? You want me to continue to fuck another pup inside of you, then you fucking look at your Alpha when he fucks you.”

You nodded your head with a whine, keeping your eyes on him as you wrapped an arm around him. “Katsuki,” You whined, feeling the build up of tension and release rise within you. “Alpha, fuck me.” You urged him as you fought the urge to roll your eyes at how good he felt inside you.

He let out a low growl, feeling that your orgasm was near and so was his. He growled as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re such a good wife, a good Omega to me. I love you so fucking much.”

“Katsuki!” You couldn’t hold it for much longer, already feeling your own high building up within you.

“Fuck!” Bullying his knot inside of you, you came around his cock, milking him for all he was worth as you held onto him like your life depended on it. Bakugou moaned into your neck, his own form slightly sensitive at the hard orgasm that ran through him. He breathed heavily, small beads of sweat speckling his body as he stayed caging you below him.

You sighed as you relaxed back into the sheets, looking up at him with a half lidded gaze. You let out a low chuckle. “I guess you’re excited about the new pup, huh?”

He let out a grumble. “More like fucking terrified…” He expressed to you, surprisingly honest, but he lifted his head up and gave you a tender look, putting a smile on his face. “But yah… I’m happy. Prince Explosion Murder Demi-god Dynamight is gonna be one hell of a pup.”

“Prince? Demi-god?”

“Well obviously, we’re having a boy.” He stated so confidently with a smug look on his face. He then motioned down to you. “Besides me being Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight mating with you, but an easily swayed human Omega by my good looks and prowess-”

You hissed up at him before tugging your body up in bed, effectively tugging on his knot.

“AW FUCK!” He cursed loudly. “WATCH THE KNOT!”

“Watch your fucking mouth!” You shot right back up at him. “Geez, sometimes I can’t believe I married you.”

“You love me.” You glared at him but stayed silent. He chuckled as he placed a peck to your lips. “Of course, you love me.”

You carefully put the last dish to dry on the stand. You let out a breath as you sighed, finally having all the chores done for the day. It was already evening in the Bakugou household and another busy and loud day filled with laughter, shouting and miniature explosions. You walked over to the bowl of hot water where you had a bottle of milk already warmed up and ready for your newest pup to consume. You shook it gently as you undid your apron and made your way upstairs.

You carefully stopped by the open door of your eldest daughter and son’s room. Murasuki, the already sleeping blond girl was already fast asleep, her mouth open as she snored softly as drool threatened to go out of her mouth. You shook your head with a low chuckle at the blond haired girl who had managed to go to bed, her part of the room being the darkest with only her explosion nightlight on.

Crouched next to the bed of the other twin in the room was your husband, on his knees quietly talking to a sleepy blond boy who, unlike his sister, was a carbon copy of your Alpha. He had tired crimson eyes that were filled with life and happiness along with soft blond hair. He was happy to have his sire home with him tonight to read him a bed time story, knowing how busy Bakugou’s schedule could be with being the Number Two Prohero. He was already tucked into bed, facing your husband but he wore a Dynamight explosion (more like butterfly wings) headband.

Your son had his palm out, soft tiny pops of explosions over his hands that looked more like fireworks than anything over his soft palm. Bakugou marvelled at the sight of the boy’s quirk, although weak, it was the most beautiful display he had ever seen. “You see, pops.” He whispered up to his sire tiredly as he closed his palm, allowing Bakugou to slip back on the quirk suppressant collar on his wrist for when he slept. “Now I can be a hero.” He whispered up to the blond Alpha.

Bakugou smiled as he ruffled the hair of the small blond boy. “You’ll make a great hero, Hiromu. With practise and hard work you can be just like your old man.”

“Really?”

Your husband nodded his head. “Yep, really. You an protect Mommy and your new sister and Mura too.”

Hiromu let out a disapproving hum. “Mura can take care of herself.” You bit back a chuckle as your husband laughed quietly. The blond pup let out a yawn before turning to rest his head on the pillow. “I can’t wait to be a hero, just like you.” He whispered as he closed his eyes. Bakugou smiled as he put a hand to the pup’s blond hair and kissed his forehead.

You smiled as you continued on your way to the pup’s room. Letting out small whines in her crib was your youngest and newest addition to the Bakugou family. Bakugou Yasu. The whimpering little pup whined as you neared her cushioned crib.

“There, there.” You whispered down to her as you lifted her up and out of her crib.

The little pup whined before settling against you. You smiled. She was the calmest out of everyone else in this house, it was honestly suspicious to have such a calm Bakugou, but you thought that she must have taken after her granddam, Masaru, rather than the blond part of her family. You brought the nipple of the bottle to her lips, letting her latch on as she greedily drank from the bottle with a disapproving hum.

You chuckled at her expression. “Sorry your highness. I didn’t know you were so hungry after already getting fed an hour ago.” You told her gently as she opted to ignore you now and just enjoy your scent and the feeling of your warm embrace.

You felt large arms wrap around your waist making you lean back to the scent of cinnamon, smoke and caramel. You looked up to Bakugou who smiled down at you with his youngest pup. He put a hand to her head making her yip at the attention from her sire.

You laughed lightly. “Already such a Daddy’s girl.”

“She’s a Bakugou.” He told you with a proud smirk. “Of course, she is.” You chuckled at his prideful expression before just looking down at her. Bakugou hummed as he placed a kiss to your neck. “Good evening, my love.” He whispered lowly.

You chuckled. “Evening, Tsuki.”

-Glitch1d

I totally didn't forget his birthday....totally...

#bakugou katuski x reader #alpha bakugou x reader #alpha bakugou x omega reader #alpha bakugo katsuki #alpha bakugou #alpha katsuki #mha bakugou #mha omegaverse #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #tw pregnancy #dad bakugou #dilf bakugou

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yandere-sins · 4 months

Note

So... Honkai Star Rail... have you met Dr. Ratio yet? I have literally seen him twice so far and he has my whole being in a vice grip. Man has either put me in direct danger or towered ominously over me and acted completely dismissive the entire time. I am not okay.

I have met him! (However brief that was because I'm not sure if there's more of him when you defeat the boss (and I struggle with the bosses because I don't build support characters, yes >-<)) I saw him and I knew this one is also going into my pathetic yandere shoebox with Argenti, and I wish I could see more of him because I so wanna get into his personality and yandere-fy him lol

All I can say is... since Argenti I am really into pathetic yans and Ratio just fits sooo good in that category.

Don't get me wrong, he probably started out pretty scary! He has that manipulative, confident, cocky attitude that will make everyone turn on you for being rude and conceited when you try to go against what he's preaching. He'll absolutely try to separate you from you friends and coworkers until he's that saint that still allows you to tag along with him. No one will really mind if one day he just doesn't bring you back to work. Keeps you snug and locked up and terrified in his private hideouts, enjoying that he gets to lord over you. He'll be so enarmored with the thought you now need him, you can't say anything against him, Ratio is the one you have to submit to if you want to survive in the paradise he's creating for himself.

The towering over you probably happens a lot (at night as he watches you sleep and trying to understand you) because he wants so desperately to be acknowledged by you, not even caring if it means he has to be creepy or a stalker watching the camera feed of your room. And when you don't do what he wants you to, he tries, he really tries to ignore you, lock you up and leave the whole planet if he must, but his thoughts are always circling back to you, his heart always wondering what you're doing and if you are lonely and thinking of him.

But the thing is, the situation is scary and all, but he's not exactly an example punisher from the beginning.

So yeah, I see him to a 180 after he has aquired a darling, no more pondering about science or math (I don't even know yet what exactly he is into even) but about how to make his darling like him because they really don't. Darling is just sitting their reading their book, throwing in a "mhm" - "yeah" - "sure" while he's talking, and Ratio is getting really desperate over the lack of acknowledgement and the kind of connection he wants with his darling. It's his own fault, considering he completely ignored all the reasoning and pleading you did in the beginning. And when there weren't as many awful punishments, you just grew numb to the fear of his presence.

I can just see him throw a damn fit about his darling ignoring him. Either in their presence or out of their sight, but this man hates hates hates not being in the center of his darling's attention when he demands it and he's being really pathetic about it.

The problem is just that he really expects too much from his darling. He'll be good and feed them and give them books (reluctantly even one that the darling wants and not only the other five he wants them to read so they can talk about his interests) and expect praises and teary eyes and so many thanks that honestly, he'll just be so heartbroken when the darling is "okay, thanks" and goes back to not acknowledging him or his good deeds.

And yes, he has his scary moments where he takes his darlings out on "dates" into situation that frankly would not end well for them without his presence. But he does not understand why they are angry and crying from stress and fear after he took them out and even defended them from dangers.

Ratio has times where he punishes his darling or forces them to do something they don't want to do mercilessly. Where he uses them as needed for experiments or puts them in dangerous situations, knowing it's wrong, but using these moments to put him into a better light with his darling. He might be cunning, but once he realises that really, what is the darling supposed to do except shutting down when they meet deaf ears with every other reaction? Ratio begins to panic and that makes him into such a sweet, pathetic yandere, desperate for his darling.

Anyhow, I'm sure he can be scary temperamental, but I also like to think he's just not entirely made for having the upper hand in a relationship. (Sorry, I had these thoughts for such a long time, hope it was okay to jump on yours! I know they are a little different but your thoughts about him are super valid as well ♥)

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hemmingshouse · 18 days

Text

espresso / colby brock

summary: when you find out colby has been obsessed with you for a while, you decide to take matters into your own hands. until colby finds it enough and takes charge.

warnings: mentions of sex, making out, ass grabbing, grinding, dominant!reader (sorta)

“thinking bout me, every night oh

is it that sweet? i guess so

say you can’t sleep, baby i know

that’s that me espresso”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it had been a few hours since he saw you last. you hung around his apartment with your shared group of friends, playing a few drinking games whilst filming for different youtube channels. he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head now that the day finally downed on him when he was in bed.

at first he thought it was the liquor running through his bloodstream, or the adrenaline from comtinuously winning games of beer pong with you by his side. to colby, you were the most georgous woman on this planet. the way your hair cascaded down your back, eyes glimmering with happiness and joy as you look back at him.

you looked effortlessly beautiful in one of his old xplr hoodies, the sleeves too long for your arms and the hem ending a few inches below your ass. he hated to admit that he peeked a few times to see if you wore some shorts underneath - fully knowing that that was your usual attire whilst lounging around the house.

and yet, he couldn’t help it. with a hand running through his hair and a sigh falling from his lip, colby finally admitted to himself that he might be a bit obsessed with his best friend. you clouded his mind twenty four seven these past few weeks and he had pushed the tingling sensation he felt when he looked at you to the side. that was until now, where he was feeling vulnerable because of the alcohol he consumed and the way he wanted to see you. now.

he reached for his phone and unlocked the device, checking his messages in the hopes to find you there. he knew you’d probably be asleep by now, in tara’s apartment a few doors down, but he couldn’t help text you either way.

colby: are you awake

his thumb hovered over the send button, not quite knowing if it was a good time to text you. he usually didn’t wanna come across as needy or desperate, but he couldn’t quite care at this point. the vibration of his phone startled him slightly.

you: everything okay?

he smiled at your concern, turning onto his back so it was easier to text you.

colby: yeah no worries

colby: just can’t sleep tbh

it took a while for you to answer, but when colby heard a faint and nearly non existent knock on his door, he knew why. he didn’t check the peephole before slowly opening his front door, a chuckle falling from his mouth as he took in your appearance. you were wearing cherry pyjama bottoms and a matching fitted t-shirt, hoodie draped across your arm and fuzzy slippers on your feet.

“hi,” you chuckled, stepping inside after colby opened up the door so you could walk in. “any particular reason you can’t sleep?”

he noticed how you walked yourself towards the staircase of his apartment and his heart skipped a beat. he quickly caught up with you as you walked towards his bedroom. “not really,” he mumbled as he crawled back into bed, watching you drape your hoodie across the chair in the corner of the room before kicking off your slippers and sliding into bed as well. after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he spoke up. “how come you never stay at mine anymore?”

you laughed softly, pulling the duvet up a bit more to keep yourself from getting too chilly. “colbs, you were in love with a new woman every single week. i didn’t wanted to be a cockblocker by staying here and sleeping on the couch - or your bed even.”

“okay, i was going overboard a while back,” he admitted as he looked at you, the dimmed light on his night stand illuminating your face, “i’m sorry if i was a shitty friend.”

you laughed, shaking your head, “are you saying sorry for fulfilling your sexual needs? are you sick or something?”

“fuck off, asshole,” colby groaned, softly pinching your cheek. “i’m sorry for the way i neglected our friendship back then. i loved to have you around and today made that even more clear for me.”

a smile formed on your lips, hand reaching out for his to give it a gentle kiss, “you have been forgiven,” you chuckled, “so, no particular reason you’re pouring out your heart at four in the morning?”

colby knew that you’d eventually end up asking him about why he texted you so late, but he never expected to feel like this. you hadn’t been in his bed for a few months and the way your like cotton smelling hair was clouding his vision because you were so close made it hard for him to think straight.

“uh,” he sighed softly, trying to think of a way to make it seem like he wasn’t quite literally obsessed with you. “god,” he laughed breathily, “this is gonna be so weird for you to hear.”

“colbs,” you chuckled, raising your eyebrows, “we’ve been friends for a good few years now, nothing has ever been weird between us.”

“i know, i know,” colby nodded his head as he rubbed his eyes, trying to spare himself some time before he threw out the truth. “i just hate us being friends.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at his statement, confusion clear on your face. colby’s eyes widened when he realised how wrongly that came out, a loud laugh filling the room as you saw the regret he felt. “oh my god,” you chuckled, “for a small second i thought you were being for real and were gonna cut me the fuck out of your life.”

“no! no, not at all,” he smiled softly, “total opposite actually. i uh- i’m- i’m actually seeing you as more than just a friend.”

his voice was low and quiet, filled with fatigue as the clock was nearing four thirty. eyes trained on you, hoping you wouldn’t burst out laughing at his heartfelt confession.

your heart stopped beating for a second when he spoke his truth, your head feeling fuzzy. of course you knew that you both fooled around flirtatiously, always clingy when it came to hugging and cuddling but you never really guessed colby had actual feelings for you - mainly because he was always surrounding himself with other women.

it wasn’t a secret colby was extremely handsome in your eyes. some of your mutual friends would often catch you lurking at him or smiling at him when he talked, a loud laugh coming from you when he made an inappropriate joke. you hadn’t really thought about it before, mainly because you always pressured yourself into pushing those feelings away, but now that it was just the two of you after a long time - you had to admit you felt it too.

“just to make sure,” you spoke up, “this is real? no joke? no prank between you and anyone?”

colby shook his head quietly, reaching one of his hands beneath the covers to search for your hand. he found it quickly, tangling your fingers together before giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “all me, i promise.”

“have you been with all these chicks to make me jealous?” you teased, scooting over a bit closer. the way his nose scrunched up as he tried to keep himself from laughing and giving into you told you enough. “colby!”

“i’m sorry!” he laughed, shooting his hands up in defeat before rolling on his back and turning his head to the side to keep looking at you, “i never thought you’d feel the same so i just- i didn’t know how to handle seeing you with someone that wasn’t me so i tried to get rid off the feelings all together.”

“and here you are,” you jokingly stated, “still severely obsessed with me.”

he rolled his eyes playfully before wetting his lips, this conversation letting his mouth run dry. “so what if i am?”

you didn’t answer him, just spending and counting the seconds until colby turned his head to look at you. his arms were folded behind his head and he had an unreadable look glimmering in his eyes. the comfortable silence caused you to chuckle as you shook your head, letting out a content sigh as you scooted your body closer to colby’s, wrapping an arm around his waist as your head rested on his chest.

the way your body heat radiated onto him caused his mind to go fuzzy. your acrylic nails softly dragged themselves up and down his side, breath hitching in his throat as your lips peppered feathery kisses onto colby’s chest.

“what are you doing?” colby mumbled softly as one of his arms dropped back to his side, pressing into the small of your back.

the tip of your nose dragged along his neck as his body was responding to your actions, fingertips brushing their way upwards to rest underneath your t-shirt. “shh,” you shushed him, “just tryna prove there’s even more to obsess over.”

“oh my- fuck,” colby breathed through his nose as he noticed how you slowly sat up onto your knees, a mischievous hint in your eyes. “is this a fever dream?”

you let out a laugh at colby’s joke, shaking your head as you leaned forward, brushing some unruly hair out of his face before brushing your nose with his. “does it still feel surreal?”

your breathy voice caused his stomach to knot together, hands making their way towards your waist to keep you steady. what he didn’t expect was you pushing the duvet out of the way so it was easier to straddle his lap and casually lean in to graze your lips against his.

colby wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. he had thought about having you more than once and in multiple ways, but he never thought you would be the one to initiate an intimate moment like you had right now.

“it really fucking does,” he mumbled, hands making their way to grab your ass and give it a squeeze, “oh my god.”

knowing that colby openly admitted to being dominant in bed often let your mind wander to your head being clouded with freaky thoughts because all of your friends were fully aware of the fact you weren’t a shy type when it came to taking the lead in the bedroom.

colby’s fingers trailed up your sides again as he slowly sat himself up, trying to keep you steady as your lips finally found each other in a desperate kiss. your small hands cupped his face as you deepened the kiss, a small whimper falling from your lips as his thumbs hooked themselves around the waistband of your cherry pyjama pants.

hands trailed down from his jaw to his neck, pressing your body closer to his as you carefully rolled your hips against his. he was quick to push you down, hands firmly spread across your ass. “is that what you want? hm? did you come here to fuck me?”

his words caused your heart to race as his fingers now toyed with the hem of your shirt, rolling it between his thumb and pointer. you pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes, “if you don’t take control, someone else has to.”

you knew you’d take the risk of colby getting bratty and feeling excruciatingly dominant with comments like these, but you found it fun to see how far you could take it before he lost his mind. you were quickly aware of how colby switched from wanting to be dominated to being the actual dominant one and you made a mental note that he had to love both.

within a few seconds you found yourself underneath him instead of on top, colby keeping himself steady as his arms kept him up. his voice was low and husky as he spoke, a chill running down your spine.

“do you wanna say that again or are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck that attitude out of you?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

let me know if yall want a part two! ;) mwah x

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock oneshot #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam and colby #xplr #xplr club

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little-miss-vader · 1 month

Text

Unbreakable Bonds

Pairing: Master!AnakinxPadawan!Reader

Summary: A master is supposed to care deeply for his Padawan… Right?

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: IMPORTANT: Anakin is 26 in this one. You’re 21. Okay? Okay. First. Sorry for disappearing! I’m fine and thank you so much for all the kind words in my inbox they meant the world to me. I just got uninspired for writing and burnt out from work. Second. I genuinely thought this was way longer than it is. Uhhhhh it’s a two parter. Maybe a three. No promises. Can y’all tell this is my fav trope? But i missed u guys 🫶🏼 lazy ending warning i didn’t wanna keep going i wanted to split it in two.

The sounds of the 501st yelling around you was not what you expected to wake up to. The men of the battalion had set up a camp for everybody on the remote planet you’d landed on in the Outer Rim the night before because the walk had been far too long to do in one stretch. You couldn’t even remember what the planet was called. You just knew your Master was assigned to a mission here and that meant you were assigned to it as well.

You shot out of your sleeping bag when you heard blaster shots above head. One flew through your tent, barely even a foot away from you. Your hand reached for your lightsaber on the ground and it flew into your grip as you ran through the flimsy tent door.

The bright suns of the desert planet blinded you for a moment and you adjusted your eyes before whipping your head toward all the commotion.

“They’re flanking left!” You heard Fives yell. You ran over to where you saw Anakin using a rock as cover.

“Master, why didn’t you wake me?” You yelled over the sounds of blaster fire and explosions with wide eyes. He smiled at you, a smile that didn’t aid your panic.

“Well good morning, Princess. Sleep well?” He always had time for jokes, even in an ambush. You groaned and ducked further down when you felt a blaster shot coming directly at you. “If you didn’t already notice. We’ve been ambushed, but I have a plan.” He finished and you stared at him with a blank expression.

“What would that be, Master?” You said wearily, you were preparing yourself to hear what could be considered by most to be an insane string of words in response to your question. To you though, it would be a normal Anakin thing to say. The 501st was doing a fantastic job at keeping them at bay for the short duration of your conversation but instead of responding, Anakin simply smiled before running right at the blaster shots, blocking them as if the ambush meant nothing to him.

The five year difference in your ages didn’t seem to matter. You tended to act and feel like the older one most days. It was a shame when your previous Master died, you cried in your room for days when the news arrived and you still flinched when you heard his name, it gave the council pretty much no choice but to put you under Anakin’s charge until you finished your training and completed your trials.

Regardless of who was more mature, you followed him blindly. The knowledge that you could trust him not to get you killed at the very minimum was reason enough to stay right on his heel. He was running toward a tank that was firing explosives at your camp. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself when he climbed up on top of it, dodging whatever came his way in the process. You followed him, doing the best you could with what you had been taught.

You stood with him on top of the tank and he used his lightsaber to cut the locked door open. It dropped to the floor of the small space inside the tank, crushing a battle droid in the process. Anakin jumped down to the bottom and you opted for climbing down the ladder, following him closely. He took the second battle droids head off with one swing of his lightsaber and took the piloting chair when the droid fell to the ground. You stood watch behind him, in case anybody came in behind the two of you.

With an aggressive turn to the handles that controlled the top half of the machine, Anakin turned the tanks artillery around causing your body to jostle around. You caught your footing and within moments, most of the battle droids around you became victim to the explosives flying out of the tank.

You heard something above head and your eyes caught sight of a droid holding a blaster toward you. You expected the thing to climb down before it blasted but when it shot at you from its vantage point you stumbled back with a stagger. Using a relatively easy Force ability, you pushed it off the tank and it landed on the ground. The tank moved as if it had gone over a bump and you safely assumed that you had done your job at getting rid of the droid.

“What was that?” He called over his shoulder and you looked down at your arm where your previously dry robe now had a small, blood-soaked patch.

“Nothing. I took care of it.” You replied with no hesitation. You heard the commotion eventually come to an end and Anakin let the 501st finish off the few remaining droids before getting up out of his seat.

“Thanks for trusting me, Y/N.” He said as he walked by you in the dimly lit space. You placed your lightsaber on your hip and followed him as he climbed up and out of the tank. You winced every time you pulled yourself up the ladder with your injured arm but you still got to the top fairly quickly. Anakin hopped down to the ground and held his hand out to help you. His eyes trailed to your stained robe as you reached your own hand to meet his.

Anakin pulled you down with both haste and caution. His eyebrows furrowed as he examined your wound as best as he could and you stared at him with an expression that screamed silent apologies.

“I’m sorry. I misread the situation and it shot me-“ You started and he didn’t let you finish.

“Next time I check in on you. Tell me the truth.” He spoke sternly as he guided you back to what was left of the camp. You closed your eyes for a moment, beating yourself up for not speaking up.

“I didn’t want to distract you.” You spoke softly and he scoffed.

“You know what’s worse than distracting me? Letting me turn around to see you bled out on the ground.” He stopped walking and his hand still held a firm grip on your uninjured bicep. Your eyes watched your shoes, feeling Anakin’s gaze bore into you.

“Never lie to me again. Mistakes happen, don’t let them fester.” Anakin’s voice was softer now. He let go of your arm and he continued walking before you could apologize again.

Your head hung low as you approached the men who fought valiantly for your Master; not because you were embarrassed, but because you couldn’t keep your head up. You felt your body begin to lose stability and you looked at your arm again, the patch had become almost the entire lower half of your arm and you were beginning to feel the pain. The adrenaline wouldn’t bring you much further and you knew it.

You opened your mouth to speak but you began to see small black dots in your vision. Your head spun slowly and your eyes fell shut. You had very little control over where you dropped, but you felt the impact right before you blacked out and you knew it was going to leave a bruise or two.

You woke up to see the interior of Anakin’s star fighter. You blinked slowly, wincing in pain. You looked down at your arm, it was dressed professionally and your sleeve had been cut off, likely to access the wound without undressing you.

“Keep still. You’re still healing.” A voice rang through the room and you turned your head to find the source. You winced when the movement caused your wound to burn. You heard Anakin sigh and stand up. He stood over you, eyebrows knitted in concern with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What part of ‘tell me if you’re not okay’ do you not understand?” He said sternly. You watched his eyes analyze your dressings from afar and you let out a sigh of your own, your voice sounded cracked and dry.

“I’m sorry-“ You started. Anakin held a hand up, signalling for you to stop speaking. His head angled itself away from you and he took a deep breath with his eyes shut. The way he always did when he had to calm down.

“I care about you.” He said after a moment of silence as he let his hand drop to his side, his voice sounded softer again. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died under my charge. Do you understand?” He gazed at you, looking for a sign that you did in fact, understand. You nodded.

“Good.” He pulled his chair over by the small cot you were laying on and sat down. “How’s it feeling?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

You looked at the wound with a shrug. “Could have been worse.” You seethed causing him to deepen the lines in his face, resting his hand on your arm.

“Just… Rest. That’s all you can do until we get to Coruscant.” He looked at you for a moment before getting up, presumably to fly the ship. You leaned back against the pillow and shut your eyes, letting sleep take over you. All you heard before sleep took over your body were the four words he let slip earlier. They echoed in your head as you lulled away.

“I care about you.”

You didn’t dream. At least you thought you didn’t. It was a shock to you when in your slumber, your mind filled with images of your own master smiling, laughing, and holding you. Soft words were whispered behind the backs of the council. His hand reaching for yours to squeeze it because he knew you were nervous. Kisses placed on foreheads and lingering touches were halted when you heard the 501st clanging around beyond your minds eye. In the cockpit on Anakin’s ship. Your eyes snapped open and you immediately closed them again, pretending to stay asleep and trying to grasp what the hell your brain was doing.

By the time the ship arrived on Coruscant, you’d rested and the bacta-bag wrapped around your arm seemed to have worked wonders on you. You opened your eyes to Anakin shaking you softly and the sound of his voice made a small part of you fill with an unexpected warmth.

“I’ll deal with the Council by myself, let me get you to your apartment first.” He said when you finally sat up. He rested a gentle hand on the back of your waist and you felt tingles over your entire back from the contact. The feeling shocked you, causing you to clear your throat to suppress a gasp. Anakin guided you off the bed and helped you off the bridge and onto the landing pad of your balcony.

“Are they angry?” You asked with a look toward him. He smiled, the kind of smile he held on his face when he had a joke in mind.

“They’re not allowed to feel angry remember?” He muttered humorously and you cracked a half smile. “Don’t worry about them.” He finished as he sat you down on your couch.

“Master, I really am sorry.” You spoke as he mindlessly placed the throw blanket from the back of the couch over your legs. Anakin shook his head.

“Really, Y/N. I’m just glad you’re alive.” He said, settling down on the couch beside your legs. His forearms rested over his knees and he clasped his hands between them. You looked at him for longer than you thought appropriate. He looked tired and it took everything in you not to reach out and place your hand on his cheek.

He cared about you. He said it himself. Surely it was the same kind of care every Master had for their Padawan.

But it didn’t feel that way when he looked at you now.

You grappled with your thoughts, convincing yourself you were imagining things, that it was delusion. You almost didn’t hear him speak when he did.

“I almost lost you today.” Anakin said sternly. “I don’t have the time between all my meetings for a funeral, believe me.” He chuckled humourlessly.

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged and played with the frayed edge of the blanket over your legs. He shot you a look that made you smile and he followed with a chuckle. His hair pushed further into his face as he shook his down turned head.

A silence crept its way between the two of you and you watched his every move. You couldn’t explain the feeling that arose every time he smiled at you. It was like a switch had flipped and you desperately tried to figure out a way to flip it back while you watched him place his hands on his knees to push himself to his feet with a sigh. You gnawed at the skin inside your cheek as you watched him.

When he finally looked at you again, your mouth opened to say something, but it shut just as fast. You couldn’t trust your own words right now. Not with the way you were feeling. His lips thinned as he glanced at your arm again and he cleared his throat.

“Rest. I’m leaving you with C3-PO. He’ll help you get back on your feet so we can get back to our job.” He said, not bothering to look at you. You tried to ignore the pang of disappointment you felt at that. You gave him a nod as he retreated to his ship, leaving you with nothing more than a small nod in return.

You worked your jaw as he ascended and sped off. With a swift movement you pushed the blanket off your legs and stood. You felt fine, sure maybe a little bit weak from the blood loss but him calling in a babysitter for you felt unnecessary. You channeled your confusing emotions into annoyance at his childlike treatment of you. Because that seemed healthy.

As you paced your living room you swung your arm around gently to test how mobile you were. It seemed alright, nothing to pause missions or call reinforcements in for. You planned to give him a mouthful when he came back, you practiced your speech out loud as you walked around your apartment.

~•~•~•~

Anakin left yet another long winded meeting with a sigh, closing the door behind him as he left the council chambers. The meetings were a lot more tedious when he didn’t have Y/N with him. She tended to soften the blows, her charm and kindness carried them through plenty of scoldings and lectures from the council. He ran a hand through his hair as he stalked the busy hallways of the Temple.

All he could think of was how dumb he’d been. How blind he was to her struggle. If he’d just taken one second longer to check on her, she wouldn’t have that nasty bruise on the side of her face from the fall. Maybe if he’d kept a better eye on her she wouldn’t have gotten hit with the blaster at all.

Not only did he have to deal with the guilt of letting her get hurt, it was only a matter of time before he finally faced the reality of his feelings toward her. He knew it was coming, he couldn’t hold it back much longer. It already pained him immensely to hide it before she got hurt. Now, the very real fact was, he could misstep once and lose her forever. That dwelled on him and he wouldn’t let anymore time go on without telling her he cared for her in a way a Master shouldn’t care for their Padawan.

He sighed again, turning a corner and making for his speeder that was parked in the corner of the hangar. He’d give her a choice, of course. He’d tell her it was fine if she wanted to ask the council to place her with somebody else. He’d even go as far as push for her trials to be done quicker if it meant she could leave his charge if this all made her uncomfortable. He had every aspect planned but he needed to do it. If not now it would eat him alive forever, possibly until it was too late. He shook the thought from his head as he sped back to her house.

He arrived, later than he wanted, but with flowers and her favourite fruit. It showed he paid attention, at least in his mind. As if any of that would matter if she rejected him.

None of this was right, nor okay. He knew this all too well. He knew exactly what he was doing here and he’d weighed out all the pros and all the cons. Pros, he might have her. Cons, the Code. The damned Code.

He ruffled his hair nervously before taking one final deep breath and exiting his speeder. He caught sight of her pacing around and his eyebrows furrowed. 3PO intersected his path.

“Master Anakin, I fear Miss Y/N has lost it.” He said nervously. Anakin quirked a brow, smirking at the girl pacing her apartment and mouthing things.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thanks 3PO. Stay here.” He muttered as he pushed past the droids and left them on the balcony.

With a swift hand motion, Anakin opened her balcony door and placed her gifts on the table next to him. It wasn’t long before Y/N turned to face him during her paces.

~•~•~•~

“You. What have I done to lead you to believe that I would need not one, but two damned babysitters when I’m realistically only mildly hurt- What’s that?” You stopped in your tracks as you pointed to the flowers on the table. Your eyes landed back on Anakin where he leaned his shoulder against the door frame with his arms crossed.

He gave you a smile and you couldn’t seem to remember where you were in your speech. In fact, you couldn’t remember the speech at all.

“A gift. For you. I guess it’s more of an apology now though, isn’t it? Since you’re upset at me.” He shrugged, looking down at the bouquet and back at you.

“I’m not upset.” You shrugged, crossing your own arms as you took a few steps toward him. Your eyes fixated on him, you didn’t even care about the gift.

“Is that so? I could have sworn..” He trailed and you shook your head.

“Not upset. Glad you’re here.” You muttered and he chuckled as you approached him to snatch up the flowers and fruit to place them their respective places in a home.

“Right.” He nodded, that crooked smile never leaving his face. You didn’t even have to look at him to know what he looked like right now. You muttered something in agreement as you filled a vase with water and began cutting the stems. After a few moments of letting you arrange the flowers, Anakin rounded the counter to stand beside you and cleared his throat. Your breath caught as you looked up at him.

“You feel it too don’t you?” He asked quietly, leaning against the edge of your counter as your hands worked away at the flowers. His words gave you pause, and you placed the flowers neatly in the vase before sliding it to the middle of the counter.

“Feel what?” You questioned, barely looking away from your finishing touches on the arranged bouquet before you grabbed a cutting board for the fruit. His hand rested over yours where you held the board, causing you to look at him again. You studied his features and somehow you knew. You knew exactly what he was talking about, what he was eluding to. Your heart raced as you watched his eyes scan your face, looking at every inch of you to gauge your emotions.

“Don’t make me say it, Y/N. Just tell me if you want it as badly as I do..” His voice was barely above a whisper. Your eyes fell shut for a moment and you took a breath, trying to steady your thoughts. To see reason.

“Say it.” You replied without thinking.

Anakin sighed. “I care about you far more than what would be considered normal… Or.. Correct. In the eyes of the Jedi.” He said, his mouth formed a thin line as he gauged your response.

You stared at him, long and hard. You couldn’t help but feel like this was supposed to happen, that it was always going to happen, that nothing could have stopped it.

“I care about you too, Anakin. But-“

“Show me.” He breathed.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Show you what?” You asked, already knowing the answer. It was always like this. You were always one step ahead of each other. Which made this conversation feel all the more tedious.

“Show me how much you care. No buts. Use your feelings.” He said, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath shuddered again as you placed your hands on the counter next to him and pushed yourself up toward him. Your eyes watched his flutter shut and you followed suit before placing your lips against his.

You melted into him when his hands circled your waist, bringing you directly in front of himself and a small sigh left your lips between kisses. It felt perfect. It felt right. Fated, even. His warm hands sent shivers through you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer.

When you finally broke the kiss, he almost chased you before retreating and placing his forehead against yours. His heavy breaths matched your own and your eyes finally opened to see blue hues looking back at you.

“Well. Shit.” You whispered and he chuckled. “What now?” You asked.

“I don’t know.” He said quietly. “I know I’m screwed if you change your mind though.” He finished with a cocky smile.

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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 24 days

Text

Step Into The Daylight

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Requested - @cc--2224 as part of @cloneficgiftexchange

Prompt - "Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do anything about it.” “You... What?” & "I never wanted anyone to feel bad for me, especially not you"

The sun streaming through the windows did little to fight against the coldness he felt, he knew the room was warm, he knew the cold he felt deep in his bones wasn’t there and yet he couldn’t fight the shivers that wracked his body. It didn’t matter that he could see the small room his brother’s had shown him to once they landed on the planet, in his mind he was still there, still in that cold, small cell with no hope of escaping.

He’d been there for so long, long enough that he had lost track of the days. He could have planned an escape, could have made some attempt to leave their torture but what for? There was nothing waiting for him outside of his cell anymore.

Gone was his relationship with his brothers, gone was the easy back and forth banter with Wrecker, gone were the late night talks with Hunter, gone were the days him and Tech would sit together, his brother’s voice filling the silence without expecting anything back from Crosshair, gone was Echo’s steady presence, at his side whenever he needed it.

Gone were you.

Gone were the early mornings when the rest of his brothers were still asleep, only you and Crosshair awake in the cockpit holding a warm cup of caff and filling the space with softly spoken conversation. Gone were the days spent trying to stick by your side, gone were the stolen glances and lingering touches, gone was sneaking away after missions to explore together, gone were the chances he took to watch you smile, gone was the promise he’d tell you how he felt tomorrow.

Crosshair had run out of tomorrow’s a long time ago.

After all he had done, all the pain he had put his brothers through, the pain he had put you through, this was the least he deserved.

And so when the chance came to make his escape, to leave the pain and the torture behind he hesitated. The cell door was open, it would be so easy to leave and yet he hesitated.

If the kid hadn’t been there, if her life didn’t depend on him getting her out he knows he would have stayed where he was, he would have rotted in that cell for as long as they decided he was useful alive.

Now he was free and somehow he felt more confined than ever. It wasn’t just because Hunter wouldn’t take his eyes off him, it wasn’t because Wrecker hovered or the fact Omega had seemed to attach herself to him. It didn’t even have anything to do with the fact that you were here, stars above Crosshair couldn’t think of a time he would ever have ignored your presence and yet now he did everything to stay away from you, not able to face you yet.

No, it wasn’t because of you or his brothers that Crosshair felt confined. It was because he didn’t deserve this freedom, in his head he was still in the cold cell, destined to rot away.

Crosshair stood from the floor, unable to lay there any longer. The room had a bed tucked against the wall but Crosshair had only managed about ten minutes of tossing and turning on it before he gave the bed up for the floor, the bed too soft compared to what he had become used to.

Everyone else was still asleep as he made his way outside, no real destination in mind. His feet carried him through side streets until they grew sore and only then did he make his way back, stopping not too far away from where the others were to sit on the sand, the sun shining blindingly on the water.

He didn’t deserve to be here.

“I used to come here.” A voice interrupted him some time later, a voice he recognised all too well. “It’s quiet, no one ever comes here.”

Crosshair didn’t turn to look at you, he couldn’t bring himself to do it but when you sat next to him it was too much. He went to stand but your hand softly grabbing his stopped him.

“Please stop running away.” You pleaded softly and Crosshair didn’t have to look at you to know your eyes were teary but he did anyway, his heart aching for having made you this way.

“I can’t do this.” He told you quietly, forcing his gaze away from yours and looking back out at the water.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” You said after a moment's silence and Crosshair balled his hand into a fist, silently begging you to stop talking. “I don’t know what they did to you and you don’t have to tell me but-”

“But nothing.” He spat angrily, glaring at the sea and instantly hating himself for lashing out at you, so he tried again, softer this time. “But nothing. What they did to me was nothing less than I deserved.”

“Don’t say that.” You said, head shaking as you tried to compose yourself.

“It’s the truth, I tried to kill you, kill my brothers…I hurt you all and for what? For the Empire to throw my loyalty in my face.” Crosshair shrugged.

“For what it’s worth, I never gave up on you.” You told Crosshair, looking away from him as you spoke. “It didn’t matter what you did, how far you strayed from us, I never gave up on you.”

“You should have.” He muttered. “Everyone else did, Hunter doesn’t trust me, Wrecker wants to but he knows I’m nothing more than a lost cause.”

“That’s not true. Hunter’s just being Hunter, he needs time to adjust, needs time to figure things out in his head and then he’ll want to talk to you. Yeah you’re both gonna throw out words you don’t mean, maybe a punch or two but after that…it’s Hunter, he’s glad you’re back. As for Wrecker he wants to come to you, you know that as much as I do but he’s scared, he doesn’t want to spook you so he’s waiting for you to make the first move.” You explained, keeping your voice soft, not turning to face Crosshair as he turned to look at you.

“What about you?” He finally asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I was with Wrecker. I kept my distance and waited to see what your move was. Turns out your move was to avoid everyone.” You laughed and Crosshair felt himself relax a little, the sound one he hadn't heard in so long and it somehow managed to push out some of the cold he felt. “I feel for you, Cross, I do. Stars only know what the Empire did to you but you’re free now, don’t let them win, don’t shut us out.”

“I never wanted anyone to feel bad for me, especially not you.” Crosshair said after a long pause of silence and you laughed again.

“We all feel bad for you, despite everything you’re one of us.” You told him so sincerely that Crosshair felt like he’d been punched in the stomach at the speed his breath was stolen from him.

You turned to face him, a small smile on your face and you hesitated for only a moment before you reached out and took his hand in yours, entwining your fingers together.

“I don’t deserve any of this,” Crosshair forced out and you smiled at him softly. “I don’t deserve you, you should be running away from me, leave me behind and move on.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I fell in love with you, okay?” You told him, watching as his eyes widened in complete disbelief. “It happened and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You…what?” Crosshair choked, for so long he had dreamed of you and him, of a life where you could possibly want him but it was such a far off dream, something that would never become a reality and now you were saying the words he had longed to hear for years.

“You’re stuck with me, Cross, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not running away. You’re it for me, always have been.” You said, laughing as a tear or two managed to slip down your cheek and Crosshair only second guessed himself for a moment before his hand cupped your cheek and he softly brushed the tears away, his thumb caressing your cheek bone.

“I don’t deserve you.” He repeated and you smiled brightly at him. “But I will spend the rest of my life trying.”

“I love you.” You told him again, watching as his eyes became watery and he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, so much.” He choked out and you couldn’t stop yourself from closing the small distance between the two of you, Crosshair not hesitating to meet you in the middle.

Crosshair’s hand on your cheek moved to your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you, savouring every second of the feeling, something he had longed for and convinced himself he could never have.

Eventually the two of you needed to pull apart for air, breathing heavily but not going far from each other, foreheads together as you both smiled at the other.

For the first time in so long Crosshair didn’t feel a single bit of cold, his body was warm, his heart racing as he held you close. For the first time in a long time Crosshair didn’t feel numb, he didn’t feel pain or fear.

It felt like he was finally off that awful planet, it felt like he had finally left his cold cell behind and stepped into the daylight, able to feel the sun of Pabu for the first time and it was because of you, you were the source of this warmth, this love, this joy, this overwhelming relief that things would be better.

For the first time in a very long time Crosshair felt like things would be okay, he had you, he swore he’d make amends with his brothers, spend the rest of his life making up for everything, spend the rest of his life proving he was worthy of yours and his brother’s love. It felt easier, it felt doable with you at his side once again.

----

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dreamland03 · 10 months

Text

WARNING: mention of sex like once, drinking, mention of trauma, bad self image,

It’s been a rough couple of weeks between you and Bakugo.

The little bump that you and katsuki have run into has been making you guys be distance towards each other. The laughs were barely there, the sex was a barely there, and the connection was fading a little. It scared the shit out of both of you. All because Bakugo was not ready to say “ I love you”.

You know Bakugo’s love language is acts of service. And you do see how much he loves you through this, but you operate a little differently. Words of affirmative was yours. You liked hearing how much you mean to someone, how much they miss you, when someone is thinking about you. You especially loved hearing how much someone loved you. You couldn’t help it, hearing how someone loved you made you thrive in every relationship. The reassurance and validation helped you thrive.

So with Bakugo unable to say it after 7 months of the relationship, made things shift. You told Mina about the issue and she said that we both should go to therapy. It was a weird idea at first for both you and Bakugo, but because you guys were willing to fight for this relationship, you guys agreed.

The first couple of sessions were helpful, but emotionally horrible. Unpacking childhood trauma, past relationship trauma, why he wouldn’t say it, how if made you feel. It was a mess to say the least. And after every session it just felt like you guys were growing farther and farther away from each other. You wondered how you guys got here, the goal was to get closer.

You tried to be understanding of where Bakugo was coming from. It wasn’t because he didn’t love you, cause he did. He said that he wasn’t comfortable saying I love you just yet because of his past relationship. He told his ex that he had loved her 3 months into their relationship, only to find out that she had been cheating on him the whole time during the relationship. So he was scared and didn’t want to waste him saying he loved you only for you to turn around a betray him. Understandable but you still felt like shit. It didn’t stop the thoughts of how unlovable you must be for him not to say it to you. It had gotten to a point where you kind of felt disgusted with yourself. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. But you understand that he’s not ready, but how long can you hang on?

Weeks go by and you guys try to keep everything as normal as possible. Small talking, hugging each other when you guys get home, cooking for each other, running errands together, etc. Although you both can feel how off everything was.

One day Bakugo goes out with Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, Midoriya, and Todorooki . It was boys night for them. So you knew bakugo would have a couple of drink and you were gonna pick him up. You waited around for the call to come pick him up. As you were watching someone Animal Planet show, you get a call from Midoriya.

“Hey y/n, I think Bakugo is ready to go.” He laughs lightly.

“ okay I’m on my way. How drunk is he?” You say with a giggle in your voice.

“I think this is the drunkest I’ve ever seen him.”

“ wait, really?” You said a little shocked. Bakugo’s not the type to get fully drunk. Tipsy? Yes. Drunk? Once in a blue moon.

“ yeah, he keeps asking for you so I think he’s ready to go home.”

“ Okay, I’ll be there in 10.”

You paused the show, grabbed your keys, put your shoes on, and you headed out the door.

You pulled up to the bar that they were at. You called Midoriya to bring Bakugo out and made sure the seat was at a comfortable position for him. You see Kirishima come out and Midoriya with Bakugo leaning on his shoulder. Kirishima opens the door for Midoriya to put Bakugo in.

“ Good luck with him.” Kirishima laughs.

You smile at him and Midoriya, wishing them a goodnight and for them to get home safe.

You look over at Bakugo in there passenger seat, face light pink form the alcohol with a big smile on his face, looking at you

“Hi, baby.” As soon as you said that he’s leaning over console and hugging you. You hug him back and laugh.

“I missed you y/n. I miss you y/n. You smell so good and do you know how beautiful you are? You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He squeezes you tighter.

“Okay baby, thank you.” You say with a laugh. “Let go home, boo.”

“No you dont understand y/n, like I would die for you. Im so devoted to you. You’ve been so far from me and I miss you. I don’t want to lose you. Im sorry for being a dumbass and making you feel like you don’t mean anything to me. I love you y/n. I really do.”

Looking at him shocked that you’ve heard the words you’ve been dying to hear from him. The smell of alcohol makes you come back, he’s drunk. It’s his drunk thoughts not his sober thoughts. But the feeling of relief and joy that swells in you over looks it. With a big smile on your face, you kissed Bakugo’s cheek “I love you too.” Squeezing him and basking in this moment that will pass. Taking it all in. “Let’s go home, my love.” Bakugo pulls away and sits back in his seat. The whole drive felt better between you two then it had in weeks. With soft music playing and holding hands the whole drive back, it felt lighter.

The morning came and Bakugo remember nothing and you remembered everything. You woke up feeling better about yourself and about your and Bakugo’s relationship. You felt secured and loved. He loves you. You saw Bakugo sound asleep next to you and decided to start making breakfast for when he woke up. 30 minutes later you hear foot steps, Bakugo comes into the kitchen with a grumpy and hurt look on his face.

“Good morning.” You smiled at him and handed him water. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you.” He sits at the table.

“ Did you have a good time last night?” You ask.

“ To be honest I don’t remember anything. How was I the drive home?” He grumbled.

“You were great.” You say with a little laugh

Bakugo looks at you suspiciously, knowing something is up. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Looking down at you plate, your smile growing bigger.

“Spill y/n.”

You sign, knowing he’ll be pushing all day.

“Well you said something and it was a little funny, but it’s nothing serious.” Not wanting him to freak out.

“What did I say?”

Still looking at the plate, you confessed. “You dropped the L bomb.”

Bakugo’s eyes widen and he sucks in a breath.

“And you talked about how pretty I am and how you don’t want to lose me.”

“Oh”

“Yeah”

Silence falls. Bakugo clears his throat “come here.” Confused, you get out of your seat and walk to where he is on the opposite of the table.

“Sit.” He pats his lap. You sit down and lay your head on his chest while his arms wrap around you.

“Look Im sorry for everything. I been wanting to say it, but I’ve been scared. Ive never been this in love with someone before. I thought I was in love before but you made me realize I’ve never experience it until now. I miss you. I miss us. I love you y/n. Im so in love with you y/n.”

You can hear his heartbeat speed up. You look up at him and kiss his lips. A gentle kiss filled with much love.

You pull back. “I understand. We’re in this together, forever. I love you Katsuki. Im in love with you.”

Bakugo smiles softly and lets go of the breath he’s been holding. It feels good to feel the connection coming back.

_______________________________________________________________________

Yall this is ass, but I wanted to write 🙃. Any mistake forgive me 😭. Like always any tags or warnings I need to add let me know please. 💤🫧💗

#katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo imagines #mha bakugou #mha #mha imagines #katsuki bakugo fluff #fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #dream is thinking 🫧#angst?

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photogirl894 · 2 months

Note

Hello! Don't know if you're still taking requests, but would I be able to request 8 and 33 from the physical affection prompt list with Crosshair? I can totally see him using that to spend time with his SO!! 😁

Hey anon! I know it's been forever since you sent this in, so I really hope you see it! Sorry it took a long time!

"Close to You"

8. Play fighting/wrestling

33. Playful shove

Pairing: Crosshair x fem reader

***

It was a nice day on the planet, Naboo, and you and the Bad Batch were taking some downtime there for a little bit until you received your next mission. As you were about to get off the ship, Crosshair arm-checked you in the doorway and pushed past you. You cast a perplexed look at him, but he simply looked back over his shoulder and smirked at you as he went down the ramp.

He'd been doing that a lot lately, giving you light shoves as he'd walk by you and you couldn't quite understand why, but then he'd grin at you after doing so. His peculiar behavior peaked your curiosity. You'd seen him and his brothers push each other around often, but he never grinned at them like he did with you. At one point, you went to Hunter to see if he had any explanation behind Crosshair's behavior. All he had to say was that Crosshair was more physical with people he likes or feels comfortable around, hence why he shoved his brothers around all the time. It was just how he was; how he expressed himself. When you asked why Crosshair grinned at you the way he did, Hunter didn't really have much an answer other than, "Maybe he just likes you a little more."

If that were true...you wouldn't mind it at all.

You had found your gaze drifting towards Crosshair a lot more recently. Something about his stoic, quiet personality intrigued you and you really wanted to try and get him out of his shell a little more. You wanted to know him more; you wanted to see a side of him that even his brothers didn't know. That and you found him particularly handsome. Something about the sharp curvature of his cheek bones, the way his lips pressed together with a toothpick between them, the way the light hit his brown eyes...you were well and truly smitten with the sniper.

He tended to like to stay up a little later than the rest of the squad, so you decided to try something out once everyone else had retired for the night.

Soon, night came and you spotted Crosshair sitting outside by a space heater. His armor had been removed and he was just in his blacks, just like you were in yours. You carefully made your way down the ramp of the ship, but he heard you coming and stood up upon seeing you.

"Everything all right?" he asked you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you responded as you walked up to him. Then you playfully shoved him in the arm and said, "Just checking on you and making sure you're okay."

He looked a bit taken aback at your gesture before saying, "I'm...fine."

Motioning to his arm where you'd hit him, you stated, "Hunter says that's how you show people you like them. I thought doing it back would do the same thing."

"Yes, but...it's different with you," he admitted.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

He flashed a grin at you; a softer, more sincere one that you had never seen from him before that made him almost glow even more in the light of the space heater. "For me...it's just another way to be close to you," he told you.

Surprised, you blurted out, "Then why didn't you just say something before?"

He smirked again and replied, "This was more fun," as he then nudged you again in the arm with his shoulder.

You figured two could play at that game. With your mouth agape at his gesture, you decided to gently shove him back. That only made him grin even more as he gave another push, a little harder than before. When you went to retaliate, however, he caught your hands in his, holding them in place and wrestling against them.

"Hey, no fair!" you cried.

You pulled your hands free, but as you turned to try and move away, he pulled you back, grabbing you around the waist with his arms and pulling your back against his chest as he lifted you just a little off the ground and walked backward slowly.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked tauntingly in your ear.

"You know, if you just wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was say--aah!"

Suddenly, you found yourself falling as Crosshair seemed to trip over something as he walked backwards and you both tumbled to the ground with a thud. You heard Crosshair groan from not only the impact of the ground, but also of you landing on top of him before rolling off.

"Are you okay?" you inquired, crawling over to him.

"Never...better," he groaned as he sat up. However, just as he got all the way up, he was suddenly pushed back down onto his back, but not because you had shoved him...because you had leapt onto him and were hugging him around his neck. His arms stiffened at his sides at the sudden, unexpected closeness he was receiving from you, not to mention with you being on top of him.

"If you wanted to be close to me...I would've obliged right away," you said softly to him. "I care a lot about you, Crosshair. I hope this is what you want."

His arms gradually enclosed themselves around you, embracing you closely, and you could feel his body relax underneath you. Then he responded, "Not quite."

When you pulled back to question him further, his hand was immediately on your cheek for a brief moment before it slid to the back of your head and he pulled you down to him, lifting his head a little to meet you partway as he joined his lips softly with yours. There was a delightful shiver that ran down your spine at how sweetly he kissed you and you couldn't help but smile into the kiss as you deepened it.

After a moment, he pulled back, a new light in his eyes upon realizing you had kissed him back and were smiling adoringly down at him. "Now, I've gotten what I wanted," he then spoke, a content grin on his face. "This was everything I'd hoped for...and more."

Pleased with his reply, you bent over, kissed him once more and then laid your head down on his chest, cuddling up to him. His arms held you safely against him, right where he wanted you to be.

Photogirl894's Physical Affection Prompts

Photogirl894's 1,000 Followers fics

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch crosshair #bad batch prompts #crosshair x reader #photogirl894 1000 followers

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Note

can you do the "moody to everyone but you" trope with peter as the readers bf

A/N: I didn't intend to make him this agro, but hey, whatever happened happened (sorry, it is very late for me and I be very sleepy, bro. what is up, what is down, idk) and yes, I did indeed write this while my cat was sleeping in my lap and I didn't have the heart to move her so that I could get up and go to bed, so I just wrote this to kill time...

word count: 630

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“And it must have been a really crazy dream because she was just flailing around in my lap, I mean, she damn nearly fell off,” you gushed about your cat as your frozen fingers never got any further in their mission of unlocking your locker, “oh my god and the cute little snores and the quiet yaps that she did? Urgh, you should have seen it. I should have taken a video and texted it to you as a little good night thing, but my phone was way out of reach and I couldn’t just move when she was sleeping on me like that, you know? I was even trying to stay quiet so as to not wake her.”

Leaning against the lockers beside you, Peter absorbed every adorable word you offered him, rendering him a sappy marshmallow of a fellow, “oh my god, can we just ditch the rest of the school day and go hang out with your cat?” he groaned, joining in on your frivolous ramble, “I swear, she is the most precious creature on this entire planet.”

Suddenly, in the rush of students wandering from point A to point B, you felt someone carelessly knock into your shoulder, causing your backpack to fling off, the flimsy way you had been carrying it, only half on and ready to crack it open as soon as the contents of your locker became available to you, wasn’t enough for it to survive the crash. Your eyes briefly flickered from your bag, now a puddle on the floor, to the familiar silhouette of Flash disappearing down the hallway.

Letting the annoyance go as quickly as it had arrived, you turned back to look at your boyfriend, his demeanour flipped completely on its head. You saw it in his eyes, you saw it happen. In a matter of seconds, all he saw was red.

“Hey,” he roared over the bustle, the soft features he always revealed to you swiftly hardened and exchanged with a look he never dared to aim in your direction, “watch where you’re going, ass hat!”

“Peter,” you reached out to him before he could get any ideas of running off after the guy, “hey, it’s okay,” his nostrils still flaring, your soft voice managed to cut through his fury, “he’s not worth it.”

Jaw clenched, he glanced back up at the direction Flash had disappeared in, “are you okay?” he asked, forcing his eyes to meet yours as your hand soothingly ran over his forearm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” eyes still on him, you bent down and plucked your backpack off the floor, “why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like a completely different person around other people than you do with me?”

“Y/n, he walked right into you!” he held up in hand to support his point, “nearly knocked you over!”

“I already told you that I’m fine. Flash is always gonna be Flash, sometimes it’s best just to ignore him,” you shrugged, hoping that your breezy demeanour would rub off on him and he would soon return to the teddybear he usually was around you, “and don’t try and act like you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about,” you caught his eye as he stopped searching for the long gone bully, “why are you only nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” he shook his head lightly, bewildered as to why you would even ask him, “you’re you,” he stated earnestly, “of course, I’m nice to you.” Disappearing in your eyes, he exhaled lowly and then found your hand, entangling his fingers in it, “so, back to more important matters,” a soft smile curled upon his lips, “are we ditching to go home and cuddle with your cat or what?”

#lea’s writing #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #spider man #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x reader #peter parker request #peter parker blurb #peter parker drabble #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter parker x reader

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sarahsmi13s · 5 months

Text

Rocks Are Allowed to Crack, Stars Are Allowed to Dim

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x fem!pilot!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n nivans, the daggers, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, diego and benny harding (oc father and son)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings, please please let me know if i missed any

word count: ~8.0k

a/n: this has been sitting in my docs and on my wheel for at least a year (please forgive the awkward moments). so i figured i'd take a sliver of the wheel and make him a little lighter! i've also been in a funk lately, so i thought getting something out there might help!

quick summary: everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder

Ah, yes, dogfight football. Maverick’s way of creating a team. You play offense and defense at the same time. Tackling each other into the sand, sometimes into the water. It may be chaotic, but it’s fun and a great team building exercise.

Which is why you hated that you were running a little behind.

You sighed as you got out of your car and walked over to where Penny was sitting at the table.

You placed your aviators on your head, “I’m not late am I?” Penny chuckled and shook her head, “Just in time. Want a beer before you go?” You shook your head, “Nah, I’m okay right now. Care to watch my stuff?”

The brunette gestured to the items in front of her, chuckling, “I’m watchin’ everyone else's. I don’t see why not.” You chuckled and sat your wallet, phone, and keys down, as well as your sunglasses. You slipped off your shorts, folding them and laying them down.

“Nivans!”

You turned at the call of your last name, brows raised in curiosity.

It was Maverick.

“Hurry up and get down here!”

You turned to Penny, “This is gonna be fun.” You both laughed before you jogged across the sand to meet everyone by the water.

“Sorry I’m late, Mav.”

Maverick shook his head, “You’re not late, Rockstar. Can’t be late for fun.”

“Not gonna take your t-shirt off?” Phoenix asked when you stood beside her. You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good.”

Hangman sighed, “That’s a shame.”

You chuckled at him and bent down to throw a handful of sand at him.

“Watch it, Rockstar,” Hangman said, his voice light as he glared at you playfully.

“Or what, Hangman?” You challenged, eyes narrowed but a smile pulled at your lips.

Now, you and Hangman joked like this all the time. You considered each other best friends, which confused everyone else on base.

Jake Seresin was an asshole. He was cocky and arrogant. You, Y/N Nivans, were not an asshole. Quite the opposite, actually.

You were humble while still knowing your worth, but also showing anybody up if they proposed a challenge, and not being sour when you lost.

Jake went out looking for competition, you let it come to you.

You were also probably the sweetest thing to walk the planet. Most certainly the sweetest to walk the airstrip.

You were nice to everyone, always giving someone the benefit of the doubt until they truly proved they were an asshole.

You also took care of your team, they were your family. You always had the door open if someone needed to talk. Your arms were wide open when they showed up in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare and couldn’t shake it. You were their rock.

So, when you walked into the Hard Deck that first day of the Uranium Mission and hugged Hangman, everyone was confused — except Coyote who knew you from a year prior. But they didn’t verbally question you, choosing instead to ponder in private.

Hangman sighed, “Come on, Rocky. You're giving your enemy the advantage.” He tugged at your shirt and pulled you into his arms.

You laughed and pushed him away by his chest, “You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Hangman cocked his head to the side, “Oooh, that’s how it is?” You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips, “That’s how it is.”

You panted as you used your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face.

When you let go of your shirt you raised your arms, calling for the ball. They threw it to you and you took off for your endzone.

You felt the sand shift and you knew Hangman was behind you. You had to get rid of the ball, so you called out to your teammate, “Phoenix!” She ran ahead of you and you threw her the ball.

As soon as the ball was out of your hand, Hangman tackled you to the ground.

You laughed as you laid on your stomach, arms out in front of you.

“What was that about ‘catching you’?” Jake grunted from above you.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Haha, very funny Hangman. Now get off, you’re heavy.”

“First, ouch. Second, nah, you’re comfy.” You laughed and shook your head, attempting to push off the ground and basically buck him off.

But, Hangman wouldn’t let you, laughing as he moved and made you fall back down.

In this new position, Hangman was putting pressure on a certain part of your back and panic shot through you.

“Seriously, dude, get up,” you tried to say with a laugh, not wanting to sound rude or like you were mad at him. He just smiled and rested his chin on his hands.

You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, but the waves hitting you pushed you over the edge.

“Jake, get the fuck off me.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you were panicking.

Jake was surprised by your tone, along with the use of his first name. He immediately got up and held out a hand for you to take but you just got up and ran to the table.

“Rockstar, where you going?” Maverick asked. You called out while still running, “I need a break for a minute.”

You got to the table, “Is it unlocked?” Penny nodded, “Yeah, why?” “Bathroom break.” Penny just nodded again and watched you take your sunglasses with you as you jogged inside.

Rooster ran over and hit Jake’s arm, “What did you do, Hangman?” Jake shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He put his hands on his hips and watched you disappear into the bar.

He felt bad, he wanted to chase after you and apologize but he didn’t know what he did.

“Well, you seemed to piss her off,” Phoenix said, shoving the ball into his chest.

Maverick looked at Penny but she just shrugged, meaning you didn’t say much.

You ran into the bathroom, throwing yourself into a stall.

You leaned over the toilet and waited to throw up. Tears had started running down your face the minute you stepped in the bar. You coughed and sobbed lightly as you tried to control your breathing.

After a few minutes of that, the nausea subsided and you slowly stood to go to the sink.

You turned the cold water on and splashed your face.

“Shit…”

You closed your eyes as the tight feeling in your chest loosened. You let out a shaky breath and looked in the mirror, cringing at the puffiness around your eyes. You grabbed your sunglasses and slipped them on before leaving the bathroom.

When you stepped outside you saw Maverick and Penny talking, and when you sat down they stopped talking and looked at you concerned.

“You alright? Gave Hangman quite the scare for a second,” Mav asked, squaring his shoulders to you. You nodded, resting your forearms on the table. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rubbed your forehead, “Hey Pen-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a beer was sat in front of you, causing you to giggle, “Read my mind.”

As he continued to play, Jake still couldn’t get over the fact that you called him ‘Jake’ during a day out.

It wasn’t that you never did, but it was rare that you called anyone by their first name.

But it wasn’t just that, it was the way you said that really made him worry. He had never heard your voice sound like that before.

He looked at you from his spot on the beach, noticing you didn’t come back to join in the fun.

Hangman walked up to Phoenix, worried that he had really upset you and wanted help from the girl you were closest to. “You don’t really think I pissed her off, do you?”

She sighed, “I don’t know, Hangman. Even if you did, I doubt she could stay mad at you for long. She can't be mad at anyone for very long.”

Jake nodded and watched you stand up from your spot at the table.

You finished your beer and stood up, “I’m gonna head out.”

Maverick frowned, “You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just really need to shower. I’ve got sand in places sand shouldn’t be,” you said with a light laugh.

“Okay, drive safe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” You collected your stuff and headed to your car.

Jake noticed you leaving and tilted his head, “Hey…” He patted Coyote on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogged up to the table to ask Maverick if he knew anything.

“Is she okay?” Hangman asked as soon as he came to a stop. Maverick shrugged, not looking up at the pilot, “She seemed okay. Said she needed to shower.”

Jake let out a breath, “So she isn’t mad at me?”

“I didn’t say that. But as far as I can tell, she’s just tired.”

Jake licked the sweat off his upper lip, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down.

“Hangman, honey, just go talk to her. If she’s upset with you, she’ll be honest about it,” Penny encouraged, giving Jake a small smile. He nodded and jogged to go find you before you left.

You were standing by your car, the door opened as you moved to get in when he approached.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake called as he walked over to you. You smiled, “Hey, Hangman.”

Jake swallowed, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I was just messing around. I did-”

You held your hand up, cutting him off, “Jake, I’m not mad at you. I know you were just playing. But your tackle jump started my bladder and I wasn’t kidding when I said you were heavy.” You giggled a bit to show him you were teasing.

Hangman visibly relaxed at the sound, “Okay, good. I know I like to get under everyone’s skin. Sometimes I don’t know when to knock it off. I–”

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “Jake, I can handle your teasing. Yeah, you can get a little mean. But I know it’s all a big show. Come here,” you opened your arms and made grabby hands at Jake.

He just shook his head and chuckled, pulling you in by your outstretched hands and letting them find their place around his built torso.

He rubbed his hand on your back, nearly missing the slight tensing right beneath your shoulder blades before they relaxed. His brow furrowed but he didn’t mention it, thinking that maybe it was you tightening your arms around him.

He kissed the top of your head before you pulled away.

“Geez, Jake, you’re sweaty.”

“You’re not too dry yourself, Rockstar.” You laughed and playfully shoved him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” You smiled and slid into your car, “I’ll kick your ass tomorrow Hangman.”

He scoffed leaning on the roof of your car and the open door. “Since when did you get so cocky?”

You smirked and placed your glasses on your head, forgetting that your eyes could still be red and puffy from earlier. “It’s not cocky if it’s the truth.”

Jake shook his head and looked back to the shore. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.” He leaned back and patted the top of your car. “Drive safe.” You nodded, and he closed your door.

He watched you start it up before driving away.

Jake shook his head and made his way back to the group.

Speaking of the group, they had all noticed the change in Jake when you showed up at the Hard Deck a few months ago.

While he was still his cocky self, having no shame in bragging and trash talking, he seemed to tone it down when you were around.

They also noticed how he always made sure to find you in the crowd, keeping an eye on you. Coyote joked that you had Hangman wrapped around your finger, that he would be at your side with a simple look.

Jake was painfully aware of the effect you had on him.

When he met you a year ago, he was starstruck by your dazzling smile.

So, naturally, in true Hangman fashion, he flirted with you.

With a toothpick between his perfect white teeth and his bright green eyes shining under the yellow lights of the bar, he walked up to you.

“I sure hope no one left you alone.”

When you turned, eyeing him up and down to take in the uniform, beer bottle popping as it left your mouth, his breath was ripped from his lungs.

“Well, you’re here now. I’m not alone.”

Seeing your smile up close caused Hangman to blush, and leaving him thankful that his tan could somewhat hide it.

“Well, ain’t I special.”

You nodded, giggling while looking down at the bar, “That you are. But, before this can go any further, I’m gonna be honest, I’m more dedicated to my work than anything else at the moment. And I have to be up by 5, so I’d hate to lead you on.”

Jake shook his head, but you continued, gesturing around the bar, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love to get attention from you and give you attention.”

Jake smiled –not smirked, smiled– while leaning on the bar, “Well, the only one I want attention from is you. Plus, I can’t stay out too late either. Gotta be at work early too, so I guess we’re both clocking in early.”

None of the feelings that day had been one sided. You also had been starstruck by Hangman.

He was broad shoulder, tall, tan, and had a voice that could make a girl swoon in a second. But you knew he was a pilot, his uniform gave it away, and you knew how they acted. Except, you liked Jake’s company and decided to talk all night with him.

Ironically, what you both did for work never came up.

So, imagine the look on Jake’s face when he saw you the next day in your flight suit.

“You didn’t tell me you were a pilot.”

You smirked, “You didn’t ask.”

He shook his head, biting his lower lip to hide his smile but failed.

You nodded to him, “What do they call you?”

“Hangman. What about you?” You smiled, “Rockstar.”

You were able to peg why he earned his callsign very early on but he couldn’t seem to figure yours out.

Until he had a close call and couldn’t shake it.

The last day of training had just ended, tomorrow you might not come home, and to say you were nervous was a major understatement.

As you changed to get ready to go out with the squad, you couldn’t stop shaking. You knew you needed a drink… okay a couple drinks.

While you changed, Hangman was walking around, looking for you.

When he walked past the locker room, he caught a glimpse of you reaching to pick something up.

He turned to walk in, but stopped when he saw that you only had your pants on. But, before he could stop himself, his eyes trailed up your back; starting from above your waistline on your pants and going up.

Then he stopped, his eyes widening when he saw the large scar that looked fairly new – maybe a year or so old. It spanned from the middle of your left shoulder blade to nearly below your ribcage and was positioned diagonally across your back.

Jake quickly looked away, realizing that you must have not wanted anyone to see it if you hadn’t told him.

His brow furrowed as questions ran through his mind. Was that why you freaked out during dogfight football, the other day? Why you always tense up when you get an unexpected touch there?

Shit… He thought, feeling like a horrible friend for never noticing and never asking.

Jake took a deep breath and walked away, choosing to approach the locker room differently and pretend he never saw you.

He put on a smile and walked back towards the locker room, “Hey, Rockstar! You almost ready?” He stopped just short of the door, leaning his back against the wall.

Your head jerked up as you pulled your t-shirt down. “Uh, yeah, Hangman. I’ll be ready in a second.”

You finished getting ready and walked out, jumping slightly when he pushed off the wall.

“Geez Hang, don’t do that!” You punched his arm.

“Gosh, I forgot how hard you punch.” He chuckled and rubbed the spot on his arm as you both walked to the parking lot.

You all sat in the Hard Deck, drinking and playing pool.

“Dude, she’s kicking your ass!” Payback laughed as he clapped Hangman on the shoulder.

You were, in fact, kicking Jake’s ass in pool. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the blond narrowed his eyes at Payback.

“Yeah, you feelin’ okay? You’ve been off your game tonight Bagman,” Rooster commented, smirking as he drank his alcohol.

Instead of clapping back at the jab, Jake just rolled his eyes and lined up his shot.

That made you frown, Hangman always had a comeback. Always had sarcastic quips to embarrass the other person. But he was silent.

You made eye contact when he stood, silently asking if he was okay. He just nodded and moved to sink another pool ball.

You didn’t want to drop it, but you did for the sake of having fun before facing the chance of death tomorrow.

Sometime later, after a few rounds of pool and drinks, you all stood around and just talked.

“Hey, did you guys hear about that one pilot that saved her WSO’s life when they got shot down?” Bob asked, looking around the group.

You clenched your jaw slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice.

“Bob, that happens all the time. It’s kinda what we do,” Phoenix said, squeezing his shoulder.

Rooster stood up and sat his beer down. “No, not the way this pilot did. Bob, I know who you’re talking about. I read the mission file, the only thing that was classified was the pilot and WSO’s names.”

You swirled the beer in your glass, not looking up from the amber liquid. “Did the pilot survive?”

When you finished asking, you looked up, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of Hangman as you met Rooster’s eyes.

The latter nodded, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, she did. But she had a pretty serious injury. I’m not sure if she was ever clear to fly again.”

You nodded and looked back down at your glass.

“And the WSO?” Jake asked, eyeing you as you downed the rest of your drink before looking at Rooster and Bob.

“He survived. But I don’t know if he still flies,” Bob answered.

“Well, that’s good that they both survived,” you said, your smile returning to your face.

Rooster shook his head a bit, “Yeah, but that pilot pulled a risky move. Saving some like that…”

Your smile dropped a bit, “People have their reasons.” You raised your glass, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Hangman watched you leave as the conversation changed into something more light hearted.

Jake took a step to go after you but Coyote caught his arm. “Hey, come on. Play me in a round of pool. Let’s see if you still got your game.” Jake looked from his friend back to you and saw you laughing with Penny and Maverick at the bar. That allowed him to relax a little bit.

“Oh, I still got my game. Let’s see if you found yours,” he smirked. “There he is!” Coyote laughed and clapped Jake on the back.

As Jake played pool with Coyote, you talked with Penny and Maverick.

“Are you serious?”

You nodded, laughing at Penny’s reaction to you telling her how you and Jake met.

“Pen, why are you surprised? Hangman flirts with every girl,” Maverick said, using his hand to point the direction of the mentioned pilot. You and Penny both nodded your agreement.

“Sounds familiar,” Penny says, a playful grin on her face making Maverick roll his eyes.

You had become so invested in your conversation with Penny and Mav, that you missed Rooster coming up behind you.

He placed his hand on your back, right on your scar, making you tense and jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya’ Rocky,” he took his hand off and leaned on the bar.

“You doin’ okay? You seemed a bit…” He glanced back at the group, thinking of the right word. “...tense a minute ago.”

You bit the inside of your lip, had you really been that obvious?

Still, you nodded and gave him your best smile.

But to him, he could see that it didn’t reach your eyes. He may not have been your best friend, but he had seen plenty of your genuine smiles and this one did not make your eyes shine like the others.

Bradley decided not to press, “Okay…” He turned to Penny, “Penny, could we get another round?” The bartender nodded, “Of course, but you’re reaching your cut off.”

Penny had set a cut off for drinks for the pilots not wanting them to go into this mission hungover. You chuckled and glanced back at the group, all of them messing around and having fun. “Yes ma’am.”

You turned to Rooster and then back down to your empty glass. Penny hadn’t refilled it yet, having started a conversation with you as soon as you came over.

You glanced at your watch, seeing that you had been there for a couple hours.

Penny sat a tray down, placing the full glasses on top. “There you are, Rooster. Who’s tab?”

Rooster opened his mouth to tell her to put it on his, but you beat him to it, “Put it on mine Pen.”

“You got the last round, Rockstar,” Rooster argued. You shrugged, “I don’t mind. Plus, I’m closing my tab for tonight.”

“What? You’re heading out already?” You nodded, sliding Penny your card, “I’m hitting my limit, Roos.”

Bradley searched your eyes for a moment, looking for any indication that something was wrong.

You were usually the one that made sure everyone was okay to go home and if they needed rides; so leaving early rung bells in Rooster’s head.

Penny gave you your card and receipt, “Thank you.” “Thanks Pen,” you gave her a smile before turning back to Rooster.

“Tell ‘em I’m heading out. I know if I do it I won’t be able to leave.” You gave him a one armed hug and turned to Maverick, “See you in the morning, Captain.”

“See you in the morning, Rockstar.”

Penny gently squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile as you slid off the bar stool and walked out.

Rooster, Maverick, and Penny watched you leave the building before turning to each other, concern written all over their faces.

“Is she okay? She’s been acting a little off ever since dogfight football the other day,” Penny asked the two pilots.

They both shrugged, Bradley looking up at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I’ve noticed, but I thought it was just because Harvard and Yale had to eject the other day,” Mav admitted. “We were all a little shaken up by that…”

It was silent for a minute.

“You know… if one person knows anything, it’d probably be Seresin,” Penny said, pointing over to the pilot, who was very invested in the game he was winning, and basically suggesting that they talk to him.

Bradley sighed, knowing that Penny was right and if anyone knew you the best, it would be him. He grabbed the tray, thanking Penny and walking over to the group.

They all cheered when he sat the tray down, taking a glass for themselves.

Jake noticed that there was an extra and he frowned in confusion before he realized it was for you.

He looked up, eyes searching for you in the crowd, panicking a little when he couldn’t see you, “Where’s Rockstar?”

Rooster sighed, “She closed her tab and left. Said she reached her limit.”

Fanboy frowned a little bit, “Why didn’t she just tell us herself?”

Rooster shrugged, “Said if she did it would take longer for her to leave.”

“Does she seem different to you guys?” Coyote asked, finally voicing his concern that had buit up over the last few days.

The group shared a look before making small noises of agreement.

“I mean, she’s still the same Y/N. Still lighting up a room and being there for us like she always has been… I just… I don’t know.”

Rooster looked at Jake, “Hangman, you’re like her best friend, do you know anything?”

Jake shrugged and shook his head, “All I know is she’s nervous for tomorrow and the accident the other day shook her up a bit, but she hasn’t said anything else.”

He took a large gulp from his beer, hoping to swallow the confession of seeing your scar that he wanted to bring to light. You trusted Jake and he wasn’t about to ruin that by telling the squad what he saw when he wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

Meanwhile, you walked the beach, taking in the fresh and salty air. You just needed the quiet time before you went home.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, seeing a text from Hangman and laughing slightly at the message.

Hangboy: Hey, I get that I kicked your ass those last few rounds of pool, but you could have told me you were leaving. I would have walked you out. Text me when you get home.

Also, there was an extra beer. I assume it was meant for you, but you left so I drank it. Don’t worry though, I can handle it.

You shook your head and opened your phone, but not to text Jake.

You went to your contacts and pressed the caller ID, putting the phone to your ear as it rang.

“Hey, Rockstar, what's up? It’s been awhile.”

You smiled, sighing, “Sure has been, Tundra. How are you? How’s the little one?” “I’m good. Ben is great, he wants to know when you’ll be by again to visit.”

You giggled at the fact the 6 year old wanted to see you. “Soon… hopefully.” “Y/N, I know that voice. Is it happening again?” You shook your head, despite the fact that Tundra couldn’t see you.

“No, no. Well, sorta, but this is different Diego.” You heard him shift, presumably crossing his arms. “What do you mean?”

You sighed, remembering that you couldn’t share all that much about the mission, even if he was former Navy.

“I don’t know how much I can tell you. But I got called back to TopGun, and I could be flying out on a mission tomorrow. A dangerous one.”

“Y/N, do they know?”

You shook your head again, this time to fight tears. “No, but I’m scared that mid air, I’m gonna freeze. I don’t wanna freeze, Diego. I haven’t frozen since our incident. But I don’t know what’s been wrong these past couple of weeks. I can’t seem to shake off this dread… this-this fear. I do-don’t-”

He cut you off, “Have you talked to anyone recently?”

You were silent and he took that as a no. “Y/N, you have to talk about it if you ever want to move past it.” “I did though. I had mandated therapy for my entire time in recovery.” “And have you been since you recovered?”

You threw a hand up, frustrated, “I thought I was past it! I hadn’t had an attack in a year, not until we were playing football. I-I thought it was just a one time thing, and then something happened during training and I just-”

You were cut off by a small, tired voice.

“Is that Aunt Y/N?”

“It is. Do you want to talk to her? I think she needs to talk to you.” “Yes, please!” You smiled as you heard the phone go to speaker and then be passed to the little boy.

“Hey, Aunt Y/N!”

You smiled, tears finally falling, “Benarino, hey buddy.” “I miss you. When are you coming to visit?” You wiped at your eyes with a shaking hand. “Soon, buddy. Really soon,” you sniffled.

“Aunt Y/N, why are you crying?”

You laughed, coughing a little at the end, “I just really miss you Benny. I can’t wait to see you.”

You looked back at the Hard Deck, seeing your fellow pilots laugh and sing.

“I’m gonna bring a friend too. If that’s okay with your mom and dad?” “That’s alright with me, Rockstar. I’m sure Lila won’t mind.”

“Who is it?”

You brought playfulness into your voice, “You remember the pilot I told you about? The one that thought he could fly better than your Aunt Rocky?”

The little boy giggled, “Yeah!” “Well, I think it’s about time you brought home the boy that stole your heart.”

“Diego,” you hissed. “We are just friends.” “Mhmm, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You should probably get Ben to bed before Lila wakes up.”

You heard Diego grunt as he picked up his son, “Goodnight Benny Boy.” “G’night Aunt Y/N.”

“Call me when you make it back.” You nodded, hand sliding into your back pocket, “Yeah, of course. Night Tundra.” “Night Rockstar.”

The call ended and you slid your phone into your unoccupied back pocket.

You took in a deep breath, trying to relax again. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out.

On an inhale, the scent of smoke filled your nostrils and it made you hold your breath.

Quickly looking around, you spotted a bonfire a couple yards away. Realizing it was harmless, you let out the breath and tried to relax your shoulders.

But, despite knowing it was completely harmless, your body went into a state of panic. Your chest tightened, limbs went numb, pain spread through your back, and tears filled your eyes.

You held a hand to your chest, the air stopping just before it made it to your lungs, and stumbled to your car as fast as you could, hoping you weren’t seen by your friends inside the bar.

Jake looked at his phone as he left the bar. You hadn’t texted him, and by now you definitely should have been back to your on base bungalow.

Hangman wasn’t going to panic, he knew you well enough that you would have texted or called him if something bad happened. Of course he felt anxious, who wouldn’t, but he was going to remain calm.

The reason you hadn’t texted him when you got home was because the moment you fumbled yourself into your place, you booked it for the bathroom.

Your knees smacked into the tile and you threw up whatever alcohol you had consumed before the strangled sob ripped itself from your throat. You crumbled to the tile as your chest refused to let air in.

Your skin felt hot and sticky, sweat coating it as you laid on your bathroom floor. It wasn’t helping you, your damp, hot skin sending you back to one of the worst days of your life.

So, in a frenzy, you ripped off your shirt and kicked off your shoes and socks before yanking your pants off, not even loosening your belt.

You crawled over the tub wall, too dizzy to properly stand, before fumbling with the knob to turn the water on.

Once you got it turned on, you jostled the faucet switch, a desperate sob escaping as it kept falling down before it finally stuck, turning the shower on and drenching you in water.

And that was how Jake found you.

Jake decided to stop by your place and check on you, that being his only option to get his anxiety to go away.

When he pulled up to your place and saw your car there, he let out a breath of relief.

He parked his truck behind your car and ran to your door, his chest lighter than before.

But his chest became heavy again when he made it to your door only to find it unlocked. You rarely left your door unlocked, if ever.

He cautiously pushed it open, looking around to see if anything was out of place.

Your keys were on the floor, your phone and wallet not too far from them.

Jake walked further in, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

He held his breath as he looked for you. But his search was cut short when he heard the shower running.

He exhaled and had to take a minute to calm the drumming in his chest.

He cautiously walked to the bathroom, making sure to knock before walking in. He kept his head down so he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to… again.

“Hey I was-”

The door stopped, hitting something on the floor.

Hangman squinted his eyes in confusion. It was your shoe. He kicked it out of the way and pushed the door open enough for him to just step in and close it.

He stopped with his hand on the door, realizing that the room didn’t feel like a sauna. There was no fog covering the mirrors and steam wasn’t filling the small space. You always showered hot, and right now the bathroom was freezing.

Jake finally looked up and saw you curled in the shower, the water cascading from the faucet and hitting your back. It was obvious you had been there for a while because you were shivering.

Jake sat on the edge of the tub cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

His heart broke at the sound of your quiet crying and the puffy redness of your eyes was a sight Jake never wanted to see again.

The eyes that usually held the brightness of the stars and a kindness that was unmatched, were now red, distant, and constantly filled with tears that fell over and mixed with the water drenching you.

He hated it.

Jake held his hand under the water and recoiled at how cold it was.

“Shit,” he cursed as he quickly turned it off.

When you didn’t react, he knew you truly weren’t in this reality.

“Y/N,” he spoke gently and touched your arm. He sharply inhaled when he discovered how cold you were. “Y/N, darlin’, we need to dry you off and get you in some warm clothes. You’ll get sick.”

Jake wasn’t sure if you heard him because you just stared ahead, biting on your nail. He sighed and pulled your hand away from your mouth.

He moved to pull his hand back but you grabbed it, your freezing cold hand latching onto his warm one. “Please don’t… Jake, please don’t leave.”

Your voice was quiet and broken, raw with fear. And he was sure that sent a shiver up his back.

Jake quickly shifted to kneel beside the tub, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand. “I’d never leave you hangin’.”

He looked you over, “Can I pick you up?” You nodded, letting his hand slip from your grip and feel it wrap under your legs.

He awkwardly shifted to lean over and pick you up, grunting a little as stood up. He was too pressed about his clothes getting wet, he’s sure he’s got pants somewhere around here.

Jake managed to open the bathroom door and walked to your bedroom.

He sat you on the bed and quickly grabbed the towel on the back of your desk chair.

Wrapping it around you, Jake kissed the top of your head. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he spoke gently against your hair.

He pulled back and watched you bite your lip to keep your tears hidden.

You avoided his eyes, looking at your shaking hands.

“I’m gonna get you some clothes, okay?” You slowly nodded, lip trembling before you bit down on it again.

Your eyes didn’t follow him as he walked around your room, but your ears were very aware of Jake’s noises; everything from his footsteps to his mumbling.

In under five minutes, neatly folded clothes were placed beside you and Jake kneeled in front of you, his large hands resting on your biceps gently.

“Do you want me to stay while you change?”

It took you a second to register what he had asked, but he was patient and rubbed reassuring circles on your arms with his thumbs.

You inhaled, the familiar scent of his cologne calming you down a bit.

You were tempted to say yes, you didn’t want to be alone but you also didn’t want Jake to see you any more vulnerable than he already has.

You shook your head, unconsciously pulling the towel tighter around you.

Jake noticed it and nodded, “Okay, I’ll go tidy up your bathroom and throw some blankets in the dryer to fluff them up and get ‘em warm.” He gave you a small smile and stood, leaving the room and the door open just a crack.

You managed to peel off the wet bra and underwear, drying off before changing.

That simple task was exhausting. It felt like your bones had turned to rocks and your muscles no longer existed. But eventually, you did it.

You haphazardly dried your hair, basically just dry enough to where it wasn’t dripping, and walked into the small living room.

You sat on the couch, deciding to occupy your hands with your oversized shirt while you waited for Jake.

Minutes later he was on the couch beside you, wrapping you in the fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket.

“Thank you…” Your voice had a rawness to it that made Jake shiver, something was really wrong and he didn’t know how to help.

He nodded and rubbed your upper back, “Of course.”

He sat there for a moment, just listening to your sniffles and weeping exhales, before finally turning to face you.

“What’s going on? ‘Cause this-” He gestured to you and your current state. “-is way more than just nerves for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be-”

“If you say ‘fine’, I swear,” he sighed to control his volume. “Y/N, you are not fine.”

“Jake…”

The blond pilot took a deep breath, looking at the sliver of couch cushion between you. “I saw it…”

If you weren’t going to be honest, then he needed to be. Maybe what he saw is connected to what was shaking you to your core all of a sudden.

He finally looked up at you and watched your breathing halt as fear filled your eyes.

Jake continued, making sure to keep his tone even, “I didn’t mean to. I was just looking for you in the locker room today and I-” He stopped talking when you choked out a small cry.

He immediately pulled you into his lap, one hand going to the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your lower back. “I got you… I got you.”

Jake closed his eyes and rocked you a little as his mind went back to the day these roles were reversed.

Jake had sat in the locker room, flight suit half off and tied around his waist. His knee bouncing as his eyes went in and out of focus.

“Hangman!” You called as you ran down the hall. But he couldn’t hear you with the blood still rushing in his ears.

“Hangman! Hang- There you are!” You jogged to him and saw that his emerald eyes were blank, not the playful or confident eyes you normally saw. “Hey, Hang- Jake what’s wrong?” You knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his bouncing knee to stop it.

Jake looked at you, the concern swimming in your eyes breaking whatever resolve he had left.

The tears he tried so hard to hold in finally spilled down his cheeks.

You instantly cupped his face in your hands, wiping them away, “What’s got you so shaken up? I’ve never seen you like this.”

He shook his head, pushing your hands away as he sat up and leaned against the locker. “You’re not supposed to.”

You sighed and leaned back on your heels, “What happened up there?”

Jake wiped the still flowing tears, shaking his head, “I don’t know. I guess- Fuck I don’t know, Rockstar.”

You stood, “Talk to me, Jake. Please, I’m your friend and I want to help.”

Your tone was desperate and worried. This was a new version of Jake that you would have never seen if you hadn’t followed him off the tarmac.

Hangman finally got the guts to grab your hand and squeeze it. He took a deep breath as he tried to collect himself.

“I almost lost you up there. You’re one of my closest friends, we’ve only known each other for a few months and I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I never let myself be that close to anyone, but you made it so easy.”

His voice was raw and shaky. He was scared, but you couldn’t blame him. What just happened to you both was really intense and it was scary. But you were both okay.

You squeezed his hand back, giving him a soft but encouraging smile.

“Can we just- Shit this is gonna sound so weird…”

You knew where he was going, so you straddled his legs and wrapped him in a hug. “I got you Jake, I got you.”

That was when Jake realized the backstory to your call sign. You were everyone’s rock. You kept everyone sane, even at the expense of yourself.

Which is why you were currently shaking and sobbing in his arms. You never sought out comfort for your problems, a bad habit you picked up in high school. You always put everyone first, and you had it in your head that you couldn’t be vulnerable.

You pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes, “I’m sorry…”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”

“Because I-”

“Because you’re being vulnerable in front of someone?” You nodded, unconsciously playing with your fingers. “Look at me, please.” You did, biting your lip to hold your tears in.

“You are allowed to be vulnerable. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to be scared. You shouldn’t have to hide your feelings from your friends. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us.”

You nodded, staying silent, focusing on how Jake had moved his hand from the back of your head to your cheek to rub his thumb back and forth on your cheekbone.

Your silence broke his heart a little bit, making him think you didn’t trust him. But he knew he had to be patient with you.

He goes to move his hand away but you hold it there. “I thought I was over it…”

“Over what, Sweetheart?”

“The accident…”

Jake pushed some hair behind your ear, “What accident?”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He wiped them away as he spoke softly, “Take your time…” You nodded, swallowing as you tried to catch your bearings.

“A year before I was stationed with you, I was flying a mission. It was dangerous, but still fairly routine. On my way out, I got hit. It completely destroyed my weapons system. Before I could get back up, I was hit again. This time it took out my engine.” You took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling.

“We were dropping altitude fast and my WSO and I had to eject. We landed on a beach, we unbuckled so fast,” you chuckled, remembering the relief you and Diego felt before the shit hit the fan.

Jake smiled a little bit at the sound, but dropped it when you started talking again.

“However the jet had also crashed onto the beach too. The fuel had leaked and caused an explosion. I covered my WSO, and a piece of scrap metal lodged itself into my back.”

Jake’s eyes widened, more dots connecting in his mind, “You’re the pilot the squad was talking about at the bar…”

You nodded, wiping your eyes, “Jake, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just… when I was in recovery, if I wanted to fly again, I had to go through therapy. And I haven’t had an attack in a year…” You got choked up again, hot tears rolling down your face, “Hang, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, using both of his hands to wipe your face, “Hey, don’t be sorry. Do I wish you would have told me sooner? Hell yeah, but I understand why you didn’t.” You just nodded and relaxed into his hands.

“What happens when you have an attack?”

You took a sharp inhale through your nose before sighing it out, “It depends. I sometimes get flashbacks of the beach, everytime I close my eyes I just see fire and it’s fucking terrifying. Other times, when it gets really bad, I can feel pain in my back, but that’s rare.”

You bit your lip a little as you looked away, and Jake knew, “That happened tonight didn’t it?” You nodded, coughing a little bit, “Yeah, uh, yeah it did.”

“Was it because we talked about-”

“No," you said quickly. "W-well, I mean kinda… yeah. But there was a bonfire happening on the beach, and just the two things… my brain went into panic mode. Before you ask, I don’t really know what triggers it. But during dogfight football-”

Jake’s eyes widened and he dropped his hands, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Exactly, Jake, you had no idea. It’s not your fault. It was just the pressure on my scar made me panic, and I was back on that damned beach. But I’m not mad or upset with you because you had no idea. So don’t beat yourself up, please.”

Jake nodded, bringing you into a hug again, being mindful of the scar. “Jake, you can touch it. I know I’m safe.” He said nothing and brought a hand to run over the covered scar before tightening his hug.

“Can you tell me about him? Your WSO?”

You nodded, “Diego Harding, call sign Tundra. He has a wife and a son.”

“That’s why you-”

“Yeah, that’s why I covered him. He had a family to go back to.”

“What about you?”

You sighed again, using Jake’s shoulders to sit up, “Most of my family served. My dad was killed in action when I was young. My mom died when I was a teenager, leaving Piers to raise me for a little bit. Then Piers goes and sacrifices himself… so I didn’t have anyone to come home too.”

You shrugged and got off his lap, but snuggled into his side.

He rubbed lazy circles on your bicep. “Well now you do.” You looked up at him confused, “What?”

“You’ve got me to come home to, and I’ve got you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Don’t get sappy on me, Seresin.” He just chuckled.

It was silent for a moment.

“Promise me that you’ll do your best to fly back to me,” he asked in a hushed whisper as if he were telling you a secret.

“Only if you do,” you whispered back.

He held out his pinky, “I promise.” You nodded, interlocking your pinky with his, “I promise too.”

“Can’t break that now, you know,” he chuckled, squeezing your pinky a little. You giggled a little before yawning, “I know, cowboy.”

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