#I would write so much stupid trash you guys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reputationmunson · 1 year

Note

hi mads! how r you? i was wondering if i may request a enemies to lovers with fake dating between reader and steve? where she's shy and kinda nice with everyone but somehow doesn't get along with him... and suddenly they have a situation and have to pretend to be dating... btw, love your writing!

i’m doing well and i hope you are too :) thank you for the request and i’m so happy you enjoy my writing that means so much to me! i hope you like this and i hope it's okay i'm making it multiple parts!

Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

Part One | part two | part three | part 4

summary: Steve isn’t your biggest fan (understatement of the year), so why does he ask you to be his fake girlfriend for a wedding?

content: enemies to (eventual) lovers, fake dating, mentions of drinking, swearing, a guy at the bar is kind of creepy, mentions of reader and eddie having a past fling, use of y/n (not too often)

word count: 3.7K

a/n: this is a little shorter than I anticipated, but I’m going to try and make future parts longer.

There’s something strange about having an “enemy”. Especially when that enemy is Steve Harrington. You don’t exactly consider him an arch nemesis, but there’s really no other way you can describe your relationship with him. You aren’t friends with him by any means, not anymore, despite your several attempts at kindness.

Cupcakes you made him got thrown in the trash, smiles you’ve given him had been reciprocated with glares, and every time you spoke was the perfect time for him to roll his eyes.

No matter how many times you try to pinpoint a moment in your life where you might’ve offended him or done something to make him have such a great dislike for you, there’s nothing you can come up with.

You never had many interactions with Steve in high school, which isn’t very surprising. You always tried to stay in the background with your nose buried in a book and he was the complete opposite of that.

You admit you had a teeny tiny crush on him in high school, much like the other girls. How could you not? He was so charismatic and carried himself with confidence. You weren’t as immune to the Harrington charm as much as you liked to pretend you were.

It wasn’t until he became friends with Robin a few years ago that you had your first real conversation with him. She’s been your best friend since you were six and if she was convinced he changed, then you were willing to give him a chance.

He seemed like a completely different person than the boy you used to pass in the halls as he talked about how wasted he got the night before with his herd of wannabe Steves.

He was friendly and also a little bit of a clutz. Sort of awkward, as well. He was still handsome, though. A lot more handsome. His eyes were kinder and his hair as lovely as ever. You always wondered how it managed to still look so soft after that much product usage.

After the first two months of what seemed to be a friendship, he flipped the switch. His words to you became grumbles and he always kept a distance from you, like he’d go into anaphylactic shock if any part of him accidentally brushed yours.

It drove you mad. The one thing in life you always tried to do was treat everyone with kindness no matter what and he made it nearly impossible. You had more friends in your life now than you thought imaginable and it was nearly perfect, but all you seemed to be focused on is how much Steve hates you.

From Steve’s point of view, he would never outright say that he hates you. It’s more of an annoyance. Your shared friend group constantly raves about how great and delightful you are. The kids, who aren’t kids anymore but always will be to Steve, idolize you. Everyone thinks you walk around with rainbows and sprinkles shooting out of every single one of your orifices.

You and your delicious baked goods that you make in celebration every time someone so much finds a lucky penny on the ground. You and your stupid perfume that makes you smell like a damn bouquet of flowers. Your dumb dimples and eyes that some might claim light up a room every time you smile. Don’t even get him started on the short, nonsensical pleated skirts you wear.

You’ll probably be wearing one of those skirts tonight when you all go out for drinks later and he dreads it, terribly. Definitely not because he’s attracted to you, no, that’s insane, but because of all the guys that are going to swoon over you and he’ll have to be responsible for making sure none of those creeps try to touch you.

Robin made it very clear to him early on that you are off limits. She told him he wasn’t ready for a girl like you. You’re different from the girls he takes on dates and sleeps with. You aren’t a ‘hit it and quit it’ kind of gal, as she put it. . She said you’re a hopeless romantic, spending the rest of your life with one person, the type of love they write songs about, kind of gal. Steve wants to settle down one day, but he also isn’t ready for that yet.

Apparently, Robin forgot to give Eddie the same speech because Steve caught the two of you in a hot and heavy makeout sesh at a party awhile ago. Steve put all of the puzzle pieces together that you and Eddie were secretly hooking up. It wasn’t hard to figure out with all the glances, giggles, and body language. Plus, the sexual tension was so obvious.

No one else knew, neither of you even know that Steve’s aware anything ever happened.

Yes, you and Eddie were hooking up. Past tense. It was nice at first, way more than nice. You’d never done the whole no strings attached thing and you felt comfortable with him, but then you both quickly realized that it would end in complete disaster and called off the agreement. Surprisingly, there was no awkwardness after, but you did miss him sometimes.

It was gratifying to be out of your comfort zone, but you needed more. You wanted a love that felt like an easy Sunday morning everyday, but as long as you were confined to Hawkins, you doubt that you’d ever find it.

The bar was absolutely packed tonight, crawling with regulars, college kids back for the summer, and high school students with fake ids. There was a bachelor party sitting in the corner shouting obscenities and catcalling any girl that walked by them.

It was overwhelming. Usually this place, even on its busiest night, is still manageable to walk to.

Your walk to the table where your friends are sat feels like you’re climbing mount everest.

“y/n! you’re here!” Robin hops out of her seat at the high top table and throws her arms around you, squeezing you a little too tight. You can smell the tequila on her breath and her cheeks are flushed. That, combined with her affection for you, alerts you she’s one drink away from being hammered.

Everyone else happily greets you, apart from Steve who gives you a tight lipped smile and takes a drink of his beer so he doesn’t have to say hi because god forbid he speaks one of the shortest words in the english language to you.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink. Does anyone need anything?” you ask. “I’ll go get your drink. It’s a madhouse in here, what do ya want?” Eddie offers and you lay your hand on his shoulder, making Steve subtly roll his eyes so no one notices. “That’s sweet, Eds, thank you. I’ll have a vodka cran please”

“He’s, like, so in love with you” Robin says and you laugh. Steve laughs too, but not out of being humored like you are. “He’s not in love with me. He’s just nice, unlike most of the guys in here” you say the last part a bit louder and look at Steve when you say it. His eyes roll again and you think that must be the only thing he’s good at because he does it all the time.

“Your beverage, madam” Eddie says as he hands you your drink and sets down a tray of tequila shots for the table. “Do we really need more shots, Eddie?” Steve groans. “Tapping out already, Harrington? I guess we shouldn’t be surprised” you tease and he scoffs. “Oh, that’s just rich coming from you”

“heyheyhey, can you two have your lovers quarrel another time? We’re all here to have a good time, okay?” Robin reminds you and you give her a sorry smile. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s not waste this tequila!” you exclaim

You all cheers your shot glasses and when you lick the salt of your hand, Steve’s eyes can’t leave you. He’s still staring when you put the lime in your mouth afterwards, you close your eyes in satisfaction and suck out all the juices. He hopes he never has to watch you take another shot again.

When your eyes open, you see Steve staring at you and he immediately looks away and pretends to be occupied by whatever the bachelor party to his left is doing. His mind drifts to the wedding he has to go to next weekend. One of his cousins on his fathers side of the family is getting married and he’s dreading it. Being surrounded by his snooty, rich family members who are all CEO’s of some business and they’re all married to or engaged to the ‘perfect woman’ that they undoubtedly cheat on while away on ‘business’ trips.

Speaking of business, they can’t keep their noses out of Steve’s life. When are you going to get a ‘real’ job?, when are you gonna settle down and have kids?, are you still living in that tiny apartment?. So no, he isn’t exactly looking forward to telling his family he’s a single loser who practically lives in a shoebox.

“Steve? Are you okay?” your voice brings him back from his thoughts. “Yep. perfectly fine”

“Ya sure? You seem distracted” he hates that you care. Eighty percent of the time, you’re still so nice to him, apart from a few jabs every now and then, despite his coldness towards you. “Just thinking, so you don’t have to pretend that you care.”

“Okay…I’m gonna go to the bathroom” you say before leaving the table.

“Why are you such a dick to her? She’s the nicest one out of all of us.” Eddie’s tone is sharp as he defends you. “I’m just stressed about this wedding I have to go to and my entire family is going to be there and I’m the only one without a date so that’s just another thing they’re going to criticize me for” Steve sighs and looks down at his drink.

“How about that girl you went out with last month? Trisha?” Nancy suggests and Steve scrunches his nose. “No can do. I realized I slept with her roommate after the first date” he cringes at the memory of walking into her apartment and seeing a familiar face sitting on the couch.

“You could borrow nance? She’d just have to take off the engagement ring” Jonathan jokes and the table laughs. Steve considers it for a half of a second, but realizes his parents already know about her engagement to jonathan. “Nice job, Steve. You let the only decent girl who liked you get away and now she’s with that byers boy” he recalls his dad saying in a snarky tone.

“I have the perfect idea!” Robin exclaims and everyone waits for her to continue “you should ask y/n to be your date!”

“That’s a terrible idea, Robin. Why would I do that?” It isn’t a terrible idea. His family would be over the mood to see him with a girl like you. You’re kind, funny, smart and gorgeous, but he’d never admit those things to anyone, least of all you. But the thought of spending a whole weekend with you seems like torture.

“Actually, that could work. You need to get over this weird hatred you have for her and this could be some good bonding! Maybe you’ll finally realize how great she is” Nancy states. “I know you all worship the ground she works on, but that isn’t good enough reason to ask her to pretend to be my girlfriend”

“Just think about it, okay?” Nancy says, kindly and he half-heartedly nods. The conversation ceases as you arrive back at the table and everyone stares at you. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. Nothing. We just missed you” You know Robin is acting weird about something, but you let it go. “um, okay. I missed you guys too for the whole five minutes I was gone. I'm gonna go get another drink.” you tell them before making your way to the bar.

“Hey, beautiful. Wanna take a shot with us?” One of the men from the bachelor party asks as you walk by their table. “No thanks. Have a good night, guys” you walk away and hope they leave you alone.

One of the guys gets up to follow you. Steve’s keeping an eye on you and moves to get up when he sees the guy following you. “I’ll be right back, guys”

“C’mon, baby, let me buy you a drink” Steve hears him say to you as you’re standing at the bar. You look uncomfortable and with the bar packed, you barely have a way to escape. “I already said no. Just go back to your friends”

When he moves closer, Steve steps in between the two of you. “She said no, man. Just leave her alone, alright?”

“you her boyfriend?” he slurs and Steve can’t believe the words that come out of his mouth “yeah, i am. so, fuck off, okay?” your eyes widen when Steve says he’s your boyfriend.

“Alright, alright.” the guy puts his hand up in defense “she’s all yours, buddy”

“are you okay? you’re not gonna cry or anything are you?” he asks when he turns around to face you. “No, I'm fine. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you” you smile at him sweetly.

“It’s whatever. Don’t let it get to your head” And just like that the Steve you know is back. “Can you tell everyone that I went outside for some air?” you ask and he nods then you go your separate ways. He watches the door to make sure you get outside alright.

“So, hypothetically” Steve starts once he returns to the table “How would I go about asking her to be my fake girlfriend?”

“Just be honest about it. Oh! and offer to pay for everything!” Robin says. Her advice could not be more vague. “I still think this is a terrible idea, but I literally have no other options, so when this goes to shit just remember it was all of your fault” he tells them before turning around and bearing the crowd to get outside.

When he walks out the door and into the fresh air, he sees you standing up against the brick exterior of the building. “Don’t tell me you came out here to check on me. Thought you said I shouldn’t let anything go to my head?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You are not making this any easier” He puts his hands on his hips and throws his head back, letting out a sigh. “Making what any easier?”

“I have a proposition for you”

“I don’t do prostitution, Steve”

“It’s not- would you just let me talk?” he groans and you make a zipping motion over your lips and throw away the invisible key. “Okay, you owe me a favor after what I did for you, right?- don’t make that face you totally do- anyways, I have a wedding to go next weekend and my family is always harping on me about having a girlfriend and I was thinking-”

“you want me to be your girlfriend?” you ask in a skeptical tone.

“What did I say about letting me talk? and no not girlfriend, fake girlfriend. Just for three days”

“You can barely stand to be around me and you want me to be your pretend girlfriend?”

“Look, I know it’s weird, but we don't have to worry about feelings or some shit like that being a problem because there’s no way that would happen” he explains. “What do I get out of it?”

“A super fancy hotel and all expenses paid. You’ll even get to pretend that you’re dating someone as hot as I am” he smirks and you huff out a humorless laugh. “You’ll pay for everything?” he nods “you’ll drive, too? I hate driving” he nods again “and you’ll be nice to me?”

“Ugh, fine, okay. I will be so nice to you that you’ll puke. Is that a yes?”

“Sure, why not. Can I talk in a British accent and pretend to be part of the royal family? ya know, to fit in with the rich people?”

“Absolutely not”

“Why are you no fun, Stevie?” you whine. “Stevie?” his brows furrow. “yeah, i’m thinking that as your new girlfriend, my nickname for you is Stevie”

“Fake girlfriend” he reminds you “Stevie, you’re so uptight.” you pout at him and he hates himself for his eyes lingering on your lips.

“So, what time should I come over tomorrow?” you ask like you’ve already been invited to his apartment. “What?”

“We need to hang out so you can get used to not acting like I don’t have the plague. Plus, we need to get to know each other” you state. “Fine. Come over tomorrow night and we’ll go over everything”

“Looking forward to it, Stevie”

You knock on Steve’s door at 8 p.m. sharp with a bottle of wine in hand because let’s face it, you’re both going to need it. “Hi, Steviekins” you greet as he opens the door. “That’s worse than Stevie”

“You love Stevie and you know it”

“Just come inside” he grumbles. “I ordered a pizza if you want a slice. It’s in the kitchen”

Once the wine is poured and you sit on the couch to eat, you pull out your notebook and two pens from your bag. “Are we writing each other love notes or something?”

“No, doofus. We’re taking notes on each other. Our likes, dislikes, details about our relationship” you tear out a piece of paper and give him a pen. Even your pens and notebook were nauseatingly adorable. “If I knew this was going to be like school I would’ve asked Robin”

“ha!” you laugh loudly “she would punch you if you tried to hold her hand or do anything that was even remotely romantic” you point out “and you’re not going to punch me?”

“I’d like to say no, but I’d hate to be a liar”

You and Steve practically chug your wine and pour a second glass before playing your own version of twenty questions.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask to start. “My favorite color? you really think my family is going to question you on shit like that?” he responds and you glare at him. “Okay, fine. um, blue, I guess”

“That’s so basic”

“Then what’s yours?”

“all of them” you reply. “all of them? really?” he snidely remarks. “yes, moving on”

You learn an abundant amount of things about each other, much against Steve’s will. You know each other's favorite candies, movies, songs, all the way to childhood memories and discussing scars you have and how you got them.

Then you moved on to the details of your relationship. Friends first, fell in love, you know the deal. You’ve “been together” for five months. Long enough that it’s somewhat serious, short enough for it to make sense that you haven’t met his parents yet.

The bottle of wine is almost gone and Steve’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a bit glossy. If he wasn’t the bane of your existence, you might even think he looks pretty.

“Can I ask you a question? and not one about your favorite food or anything like that” you ask in a soft voice and you seem a little nervous. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Why did you ask me to do this? i’m like the last person you should’ve asked”

“That’s actually why I asked. If I asked a girl that has any romantic interest in me at all, then it might get confusing, ya know? With you, once these three days are over we can go back to normal. There’s no risk of us falling for each other”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. I have an observation, by the way. You always speak of love like it’s a terrible thing. Why is that”

“Holy shit that’s a loaded question. Um, well the first time I was in love was in high school and we all know how that turned out. Haven’t been in a serious relationship since so I guess it’s hard for me to believe that it’s as great as everyone says it is” he sighs. He’s never drinking wine again. If it makes him this vulnerable with you he can’t imagine what it would be like if someone else was sitting here.

“Do you still love her? Nancy?” you wonder. “No, I don’t. I have love for her, but just as a friend. What about you?”

“No, I’m not in love with Nancy. She’s pretty and all, but can’t say i’m in love with her”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. You’re always raving about some dumb romance novel, yet I’ve never seen you with a boyfriend.” he says and you sigh “There’s not much to tell. Hopeless romantic with standards that are too high”

There’s a hint of sadness in your voice and you clear your throat before speaking up again. “So, I think that’s enough for tonight. I know way more about you than I ever wanted to”

“Right back at ya. I’ll walk you to the door”

“It’s a short distance, I’ll manage”

“Hey, I gotta start working on being chivalrous as your fake boyfriend. Can you stop being stubborn for one second?”

He walks you ten steps to the door and even opens it for you. “Same time tomorrow night? unless you're busy” you say, halfway out the door. “What could we possibly have left to learn about each other?”

“We still have to work on acting like we’re in love. You might have to put your arm around me this weekend. Oh, the horrors!” you gasp dramatically and he suppresses a laugh because he refuses to let you think you have the ability to make him laugh.

“Tomorrow's fine. But if something comes up and you have to skip that would totally be okay”

“You’re such an ass” you whine. “Not as much as you are” he retorts.

You flip him off as you walk away and he does the same.

He can’t wait for next weekend to be over so he can go back to pretending like you barely even exist.

part two coming soon to a screen near you ;)

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things fic

1K notes · View notes

bindeds · 7 days

Note

HIII CAN U DO VOX X FEM!READER AND THE ONLY ONE BED TROPE THING?? I LOVE UR WORK BTWW🫂🫂

thank you so much, I’m really glad you do! Thanks for the love guys, I’m so sorry I’ve been falling off writing recently but this was kinda fun to write hehe, hope you don’t mind that I put my own spin to it!

mlist. requests.

꩜ ﹒ LOVE HOTEL. — vox × gender neutral reader.

wc. 1k. tags. suggestive , mentions of fingers around sensitive areas , vox is pro consent omg wow , catching you almost naked , making out , fluff , both reader and vox being adorable

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Truly a strange question to ask.

Though, ‘strange’ and ‘Vox’ were never bound for the same sentence. No one would believe you if you’d ever tried to tie Vox down with such a word. No, not when you both laid in a red—or maybe pink, the colors were ever shifting just as the room had been in your slightly drunken state—tinted room.

Sirens wailed in the muffled distance, hell’s white noise slipping through closed windows as you laid on your back in bed. The room’s air conditioning was just starting to seep into your skin now, and when you touch your arm it’s almost electric how you don’t feel cold but your flesh does.

You can taste the stale air when you dampen your lips with a brief swipe of your tongue.

“No, I just … I didn’t think I’d be checking into a love hotel with, well—you, of all people.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m nobody, Vox. And you’re … you’re whatever your audience wants you to be.”

“Alright. This is getting personal,” Vox grunted as he rose from the bed, almost like a dressed corpse coming to life before he disappeared into the bathroom.

“Showering?”

“Mhmm,” he called from beyond the door he left ajar.

Your clothes clung to your previously sweat-slick skin. It had been your time now to sit up as you got up from your bed to change out of your shirt. The robes would have probably done just fine, at least, it wouldn’t retain the smell and memory of the night you spent with a man you’d just met. Oh god, you heard yourself think that as if the night had ended.

Your pants had completely been kicked off to the floor by now as you wandered over to the closet. You caught the brief second of darkness within before the lights flickered to action, presenting you with a pink robe with furry white lapels with hearts that trailed down them.

“Hey have you—”

You turn to your left and freeze up completely. The alcohol in you made a poor attempt at shooting up your system but it didn’t mean that it hadn’t rattled you just as much as the current situation had … oh god.

Vox’s eyes briefly zip down where they shouldn’t, and god, you thanked whoever had clearly possessed this headache-inducing room that you still had your undergarments on but neither of you had been inclined to move.

Finally, you rolled your eyes, then quickly regretted the motion that took your head for a spin before you scoffed.

“Vox. Please.”

“Please what, dear?”

“A love hotel, really?” You finally let out the question held within the grasp of what withered self restraint you had left.

“I called up Vel and Val, the tit fuckers used my house for their stupid dinner party. Said they had a deal to close and my house was apparently the least trashed. And anyway, this is the best love hotel on this side of the pentagram, and …”

Vox’s hand crawled up the closet door where your hand still rested.

He ran the tip of his index finger down your forearm. The faint yet acute touch of his nail guard had you reeling back a shiver you couldn’t let free. You clenched your jaw.

“We did meet at a bar.”

Vox’s eyes had dropped to half-mast now, and it wasn’t as though you hadn’t seen this coming.

“Vox,” you couldn’t help the smile that overtook your complexion. “You’re a handsome guy—”

“Mhmm—”

“But I’m just … not looking for that right now.”

“I know. But I just find it funny that you should say that because … I’m still looking at your incredibly bare body.”

“Underwear.”

“Doesn’t make you any less sexier.”

And you don’t know what came over you in that moment, but your arms crash landed around his neck as you tasted him on your lips, his tongue quick to lap at your mouth as you opened wide for him too.

Your body was too hot on his, his own hardware whirring so loud that you heard it over the moist sounds of your tongues meeting.

Even if you had really thought this over, really, this might have been the worst and best decision you would ever make—worst because you barely know this man and you knew people who smiled for the press were shells of who they once were. Can’t put your tongue into or around something that’s hollow, that’s just wasting time.

But it was the best, because, oh fuck did his fingers feel so goddamn good where they lingered. And he hasn’t even slipped them into your underwear yet.

But you grabbed his wrist at the highest height of your hastened heart and you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Vox looks down at you for a moment, almost as if he’d needed a moment to part with the view before he gave you a little nod.

“Fuck. Okay.”

After you both untangled yourselves from each other, it hadn’t taken very long for you to settle down on the bed, your arms around him as he draped his arms around you as well, adjusting your duvets to cover you up nicely as he rubbed your shoulders.

“You cold?”

“No. You?”

“I’m just fine. You keep me overheating, you know.”

“Oh, Vox, you have such a way with words!” You dramaticized, and you chuckled almost like a small child but his shoulders shook as he joined you.

“Fuck you. It wouldn’t have been bad if we fucked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t kiss and tell, sweetheart.”

“Of course not. Vox shooting his load in sinner trash? Oh god, what will the papers say?” You had begun to think you were getting too good at this.

“Oh, darling.”

Vox’s hands left your body only to arrive at your chin as he angled it to face him.

“You’re not sinner trash.”

“Is that so?”

“My dear if the exterminations rained down today, they would have taken you back.”

taglist : @garfieldthomas @lvstyangel (dm me if you wanna be in the taglist <3)

217 notes · View notes

whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 7 months

Text

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part III

Welcome to part 3!! It makes me so happy to see all of you enjoying this, I'm so excited to keep writing and sharing with you guys!!! However, I'm going to be putting a content warning on this chapter, everything will be clearly laid out in the warning! Other than that we get some sweet II and III, so enjoy! Again, thank you so much for reading, if you'd like to be added to the tag list don't hesitate to let me know!

WARNINGS: Content warning for a scene with an aggressive man. Some guy is trying to pick up reader, he's gross, he gets mad when reader turns him down, attempted grabbing but nothing actually happens, aggressive language. Brief description of a hand wound and care of said wound. I think that's everything, if I missed any please let me know!

Part II - Part IV

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading, ily ❤️❤️❤️

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

Your fingers drummed nervously across the countertop, your face starting to hurt from forcing your rehearsed smile. You felt beads of sweat starting to gather at your temples, your skin growing itchy as one of the droplets slowly trailed its way down your skin. The man at the counter leaned in a little too close to you, his breath smelled of cheap cigarette smoke and stale beer, making it difficult for you not to gag. “Come on, just one date.” His gaze pierced into you, hungry and unwelcoming. You shifted your weight in between your feet, eyes darting away from him as you attempted to plan your escape.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.” You crack a nervous, apologetic look. His eyebrows narrowed, his whole expression changing in a way that lets you know you hadn't given him an answer he would accept. You nearly jumped out of your skin as the bell chimed above the door. Your gaze snapped over to the entrance to find Vessel, II, and a third man you didn’t recognize slipping inside. II started in your direction, only for Vessel to grab him by the arm and tug him towards the back.

“I promise I’m a nice guy.” He smiles at you with yellowing teeth, despite how friendly he tried to seem, his gaze still locked into you maliciously.

“Ves, I have the case of drinks you asked for!” You call to the back of the store, hoping to catch his attention to signal your state of distress. Before you had a chance to see him react the man snapped his fingers in your face.

“Excuse me, I believe we were having a conversation babe.” Out of the corner of your eye you see the mystery man Vessel brought with him stiffen, his head turning slightly in your direction as he straightens up. “I see you’re exactly like all the other stupid whores in this town, always distracted by guys with muscles.” He sneers, leaning in even closer. "Well I deserve a chance too. I don't deserve to be tossed aside like trash." His voice cracked as he spoke, you noticed his body started to shake as he grew more unpredictable and upset with every passing second. "Now, I've been patient… I'm going to ask you one last time before you and I have a fucking problem, do I make myself clear?"

"I've already answered you. I suggest you see yourself out before I call the cops." The man suddenly screams in frustration, making you jump. You attempted to back away from him, trying to put some distance between the two of you, only for him to try and grab you. As he swiped at you a hand grabbed the man’s wrist, pinning him in place. You watched as he expertly put the man's wrist in some sort of hold causing the man to cry out in pain, almost falling flat on his face as he tried to scramble away.

“Just walk forward and it won’t hurt.” Your savior barks out a command, ushering the man out of the store. II approaches the counter, grabbing the man’s bags and throwing them out the door after him. You watch as the unknown man grabs the attacker by his jacket and throws him to the ground, rolling him off the curb, his cans rattling to the ground behind him. The second the situation was handled II’s eye’s immediately found yours, long strides bringing him next to you impossibly fast.

“Are you okay?” He asks you softly, his large hands engulfing your much smaller trembling ones as he allows you a moment to process that you were once again safe. You nod as you let out a shaky breath. II pushes some stray hair out of your face, giving you a quick once over to inspect for any injuries. He lets out a soft hum of approval as he sees nothing physically wrong.

“I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all.” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, trying your best to resist the urge to crumble into a mess of panicked tears under his gentle gaze.

“III, is he gone?” Vessel calls over to the other man.

“Yeah he tore out of here pretty quick.”

"I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner." Vessel offers you an apologetic smile.

"It's alright, I'm sorry you had to get involved. But thank you, all of you, for doing something. I didn't expect him to fly off the handle like that." Vessel places a comforting hand on your shoulder, II did one final check to make sure you were alright before stepping away.

The third man slowly approaches the counter, being cautious . He takes your hand firmly in his. "(Y/N)?" You nod in response. "III, nice to meet you, sorry it couldn't be under better circumstances." He smiles in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Thank you for that." His thumb trails over your knuckles as he studies your face for a moment.

"Of course, I can't stand seeing disgusting pigs like that trying to force themselves on women." You feel II's warm hand come to rest in your shoulder.

"Are you going to be okay here by yourself?" He asks.

"Yeah I should be alright, I probably won't get that much sleep, but I'll be fine." You try to reassure him. You found yourself looking around the empty lot nervously as they drove away, expecting the man from earlier to be standing somewhere outside. You sprinted upstairs, slamming your door shut behind you, triple checking that you had locked up tight. You collapsed on your couch with a sigh, turning on your TV to distract yourself. You found yourself sucked into mindless television, your nerves slowly withering away as you let yourself forget about the day's events. You quickly muted the TV at the sound of something tapping against your window. Your pulse immediately began to race as you realized that there was someone outside. You grabbed your phone, dialing emergency services so you were ready. Cautiously you approach the window, keeping yourself out of sight as you look outside. Your body immediately relaxed at the sight of a familiar figure. You were met with the sight of II throwing small rocks at your window to get your attention. You tug at the stuck frame, pushing it up with a groan as it scrapes into place. "What are you doing here?" He drops the small pile of pebbles he was holding, dusting off his hands.

"I didn't feel right leaving you alone after today." He calls back. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his overall demeanor somewhat nervous as you wait for him to continue. "If it's alright with you, I figured some company might help." He shrugs slightly. You blush at his offer, slowly nodding in response

"I'd like that." He straightens up with confidence at your response. "Stairs are around back, I'll let you in." You hurried over to the door, stopping to look in a mirror to fuss over anything that was out of place. You took a deep, steadying breath as you opened up the door. II was just jogging up the stairs as you stepped out into the cool night air. He paused on the landing, the two of you trying to figure out what to say as you awkwardly rocked back and forth on your heels. You didn't know why you felt so nervous. Granted, you had only known II for a couple weeks at this point, but he had always been so kind towards you, if anything you looked forward to seeing him come into the shop day in and day out. "Come on, it's cold." You pull your sweater tightly around you to try and block out the wind, a shiver running through your whole body at the sudden drop in temperature. "Let's go inside, I'll make you some tea." II stands awkwardly in the entryway, almost as if he was waiting for instructions on what to do next. "Make yourself at home." You prompt. He clumsily pulls off his boots, tucking them neatly into the corner. You hummed softly as you worked on starting the kettle, watching as II acquainted himself with your living space. He walked around with his hands behind his back, carefully leaning in to look at pictures or other various items that seemed to pique his interest. You lean over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, your soft chuckle caused him to jump slightly as he suddenly realized how close you had gotten. He motions to the picture, silently asking if he could pick it up. You nodded enthusiastically.

"Which one's you?" He asks, settling close to your side so you could look at the photo together. Your eyes scanned over the group until they landed on the image of you letting out a boisterous laugh just as the photo was taken. You pointed, II studied the picture for a moment before glancing up at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. "You look so pretty." You can't help but blush at the direct compliment. "Where was this?"

"It was taken at the Fall Festival in town, actually." He sets the picture neatly back in place. You found yourself getting lost in his eyes before you jumped slightly at the sound of the kettle singing. "I'll be right back." You grab two mugs, handing one to II as you both nestle into the couch.

"I like your apartment, it's nice." He remarks cheerfully.

"It's not much, but it's home." You respond with a smile. He turns away from you, lifting up his mask just enough to sip at his tea. "Thank you for coming to see me…" you trail off, running your finger around the edge of your mug. "I feel a lot safer with you around."

"I'm glad," he replies softly, fidgeting with his sleeve. "I want to become someone you trust," you both look up simultaneously, your eyes meeting his. "I won't let anything hurt you if I can help it." You smile, your eyes scanning over the contours of his face beneath his mask. You wanted to reach out and take his hand, feeling an overwhelming need to be close to him.

"I really appreciate you coming to check up on me, II." He shifts slightly, bringing himself slightly closer to you.

"Anytime." He breathes out a laugh. "I just… I had to make sure you were alright. When we walked into the store earlier, and I saw that guy harassing you, I don't know what came over me but I just saw red. If Vessel hadn't grabbed me I honestly don't know what I would have done to him." He tentatively reached out, you met him halfway, allowing your hand to rest in his. "Then, when we left, you still looked so scared. I don't know, maybe I'm just being overprotective." He chuckles. You found yourself absentmindedly fidgeting with his fingers as he held your hand, slowly circling your thumb around his own.

"I honestly was still really anxious when you showed up." You admit, a bit embarrassed. "Having you here with me is really nice."

He leans in a bit closer to you in order to whisper, "I'll stay as long as you need." He shoots you a playful wink, making you giggle. The two of you sat talking late into the night. Any worries from the day's previous events are the furthest thing from your mind as II helped to lull you into a state of comfort you weren't sure if you had ever experienced before. You looked over at the clock, you groaned as you realized you'd have to be up for work in a few hours. "I'll take that as my cue to leave." He chuckles. He stands, stretching his arms high above his head with a pleased sigh.

He haphazardly shoves on his boots as you trail behind him to the door. "I guess I'll see you at the store." Despite how hard you tried it was impossible to mask the disappointment in your voice. The truth was you didn't want him to leave. In the fleeting hours you had spent with him this evening you felt like you had finally started to meet the real II. Despite how friendly he always was towards you, there was still something about him that was so guarded. You were hoping that given enough time you would become someone he could trust as well.

"Maybe we could do this again sometime?" He shoves his hands in his pockets, his eyes trailing to the floor as he asked.

"I would love to… I had a great time." You smile at him. You found yourself subconsciously shuffling closer to him.

"I did too." You reach out for the door handle, catching the smell of II's sweet cologne. You look up at him, intense blue eyes already studying you. You swallowed thickly as you froze, you really didn't want him to leave. His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second before he clears his throat, snapping both of you from your trance-like state. You pull the door open, stepping out with him into the cold fall night. "Be safe, yeah?"

You nod, "you too." You stood on the landing as he headed down the stairs. "Goodnight II." He pauses at the bottom.

"Goodnight (Y/N)." He bows his head slightly before heading around the building. You didn't get much sleep the remainder of that night. No matter how much you tossed and turned you couldn't get the thought of II out of your head. His bright blue eyes, soft voice, your whole night with him kept replaying in your mind like a dream. Luckily, your next day at work was uneventful, the most exciting part of your shift was cleaning bright red food dye off the floor from a kid who dropped their slushy. You clicked off your open sign, propping the door open to start bringing in your stock for the evening. You got to work lugging the crates of produce inside as you waited for your helpers to show up.

"Fuck's sake Charlie, could you have loaded this thing up anymore?" You grumble to no one as you struggled with a particularly heavy crate. You yelped as your foot got caught on a pallet, the handle of the crate splintering apart in your palm as you slammed it and your full body weight to the ground. You winced as you opened your hands. One of them was relatively unscathed, a few minor scrapes from the skin dragging across the pavement. Your other hand, however, wasn't so lucky. A long gash spread across your entire palm, small chips of the bright blue plastic barely visible against the deep red pool. You jumped as someone rushed around the side of the building.

"Are you alright?" It was III, his eyes wide with worry as he rushed to your side. "Can I look?" You gingerly hold your hand out to him, your fingers shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off. He clicks his tongue, "you gotta be careful doll, can't have our best girl getting hurt now, can we?" He smiles as his eyes meet yours. He helps you up, careful not to bump your injured hand, before leading you inside. "You sit here," his hands land on your waist as he lifts you to sit on the counter. "Where's your first aid kit?"

"Just outside of the bathroom in the back. III, I promise I'm alright-" he waves you off before you have a chance to finish your statement.

"I know you can handle yourself, but you're hurt." He calls back to you as he retrieves what he needs. He makes his way back up to the counter, waiting with an outstretched hand for you to present the wound for him. "I was always taught," he continues in a tone barely above a whisper, "that if you're hurt you should probably let someone else help."

"I guess you're right," he looks up at you through his lashes. Striking blue eyes cause you to blush under their intense gaze. "But, regardless, thank you." He gently takes the wrist of your good hand, bringing it over to his arm.

"This isn't going to feel good," he states bluntly, "squeeze as hard as you want. You nod, your fingers instantly digging into his arm as he cleans off the cut with disinfectant. He was quick but meticulous with his work, making sure the bandage was securely fastened before cleaning up after himself. "There you go doll, good as new." His eyes crinkle as he smiles. "But, I will be taking care of the lifting today." He says in a playful tone. He helps you down off the counter, allowing you to stick by his side in order to help him figure out where everything went. You sat next to him on the floor, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. There was a knock on the door, both of you instinctually turning in the sound's direction. III peers above the shelf before fully standing up. "I'll get it." You hear Vessel and II's familiar voices as he opens the door.

"Where is she?" II asks.

"She's over there, she had a bit of an accident earlier so-" before III had a chance to finish explaining II hurried around the shelf to assess the damage himself.

"What happened?" His eyes wide as he knelt down next to you. "It wasn't that asshole again, was it?" You can't help but laugh slightly at his concerned tone.

"I fell and cut my hand on a crate." You explain holding up your bandaged palm. He sighs in relief, his shoulders noticeably relaxing.

"You gotta be careful, dove." He gently pats the top of your head. He stands, offering his hand to help you up. "Come on, IV really wants to meet you."

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

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @themultiverseofmars @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy (I think that's everyone if I missed you or you'd like to be added please let me know!)

#sleep token iii #sleep token ii #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token #iii sleep token #sleep token x reader #ii sleep token #iv sleep token #vessel x reader #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader #my writing #my fanfiction

425 notes · View notes

ninthskzmember · 3 months

Text

Sweet revenge

Hwang Hyunjin x reader.

idol!hyunjin x idol!reader word count: 1,3k warnings: kinda angsty, jealous hyunjin (lives in my head rent free), resentful reader, swearing. note: hi guys! i just wanted to keep a little update for you all while i'm working with the 2min sharing is caring part. i hope you enojoy this. <3 love ya.

"So you're really doing it"

"I'm totally doing it"

"Everyone is gonna know..."

"Yeah, that's kind of the idea" You smiled at her "I want him to feel as stupid as I did"

"Yeah, I get it but―"

"Stop defending him" you cutted her off. "If you're on his side then be, but don't come here and annoy me"

"I'm not" she added "What he did was wrong, periodt. BUT" she emphasized the last word "You'll expose him in front of everyone"

"He will know"

"Okay, but the people who knew you will know too" she paused "plus he sucks at hiding shit"

"That's on him, he sucks at media training" you laughed when remembered the many times he almost exposed your relationship with him just because his goofyness.

"Okay, I'm just warning you" she smiled and walked towards you "Have fun and break a leg" she hugged your body and let you go.

"Thank you, Somi" You smiled at her and moments later, she left.

[Later that day...]

'I met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring, he argued with me about everything.'

Your song started blasting on the huge speakers from the award show, the sound of the drums was making the people's chest even vibrate a bit

'He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye, he said he's six foot two and I'm like dude... nice try.'

And there it was, the first direct lyrics against your ex lover, standing right in first row with his beloved members right beside him.

You weren't even trying to hide that you wanted to see his reactions over the lyrics, you kept an eye on his table from the first moment you got a foot on stage.

'But he was so much fun, and he had such weird friends, and he would take us out to parties and the night would never end. Another song, another club, another bar, another dance, and when he'd said something wrong, he'd just fly me to France.'

You knew his members knew about you, so there was no surprise to you when they laughed out loud with the 'weird friends'.

When the song reached the France line, in the screens from the place there were shown many pictures of you in the country... The ones that Hyunjin took for you in his own little camera. Yes, you'd save them for years if you needed to.

'So I miss him some nights when I'm feeling depressed, till I remember all the times he made a pass on my friend. Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it's up and down; If I had to choose... I would say right now...'

Long pause, just to have him on his tippy toes. Jeongin was literally grabbing him, waiting for the music to break and expecting the next lyrics.

'I want to get him back, wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad. Oh, I want to get him back, 'cause then, again, I really miss him and it makes me real sad'

Audience screaming and moving their hands in the air to the rhythm of the music, and a 'I can't believe it' kind of expression in Hyunjin's face was everything that you needed to feel fulfilled.

'Oh, I want sweet revenge. I want him again. I want... To get him back, back, back'

You sang these lyrics while dancing along with Beomgyu, who was banging his head along with the music. You knew Hyunjin was going to be upset about it, you had a zillion discussions with your ex-lover about this guy, and that's why you did it.

'So I write him all these letters and I throw them in the trash cause I miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh'

You changed your lyrics while singing live 'the way he grabs my ass' while the backing track stayed true to the official line. Shocked everyone in the room, including your own friends in the building, who knew the real lyrics but didn't expect you to be explicit at this event.

'Yeah, I pour my little heart out, but as I'm hitting "Send"

I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends'

You pointed to those friends in question: Somi, Karina, Giselle, Yujin, Yunjin, and Chaewon between others, who screamed their lungs off from your action, hyping you up.

'Because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do

He said I was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth'

You side-eyed him and then did the same thing with Yeji, who looked fastly to the floor, hiding her face and then looking away.

Everyone in the industry knew you weren't one to mess with, and yet, those two did.

This was just the begging of a long plan you made up to get your sweet revenge to the one who broke your trust and heart and the one who went along with it.

'And when I told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me I was trippin'. But I am my father's daughter, so maybe I could fix him'

You flutterer your eyes to the camera at the end of the lyric and the chorus started again, you repeating your actions from before.

[...]

"What do you want?" You asked when you observed him through the mirror

"What was all that about?"

"A song I wrote, why?" You asked, not even bothering to turn around and engage the conversation

"I know you wrote it" he rolled his eyes

"Did it touch you deep inside?" You laughed, still eating some snacks

"You shouldn't have done that. The France pictures? Y/n, that was risky"

"Risky?" You turned back this time "Fuck off, Hyunjin. Fuck you, and Yeji. Oh wait, you've already done that"

"Why are you not taking your makeup off?" He ignored your comment "You always take your makeup off after performing"

"Because I've got a date and I like the makeup" you smiled

"Oh, do you? Who is it?"

"Why do you care?" You brought another snack to your lips

"Is it Beomgyu?"

"Why do you care so much who's dick I ride?" You frowned

"You had sex with him already?" His ears turned red

"It's none of your business. Keep your dick inside Yeji and don't bother me."

"We were wasted, I didn't mean to do it. You know it" the man stared at you trying to hide his emotions.

"I don't care! You hurt me, Hyunjin. I was the one to find you two having naked aftercare. AFTERCARE. You don't do aftercare with a one-time-accidental hook up." You sighted for a moment "I won't fucking cry and ruin my makeup. Leave. Now." Your eyes were already watery as you tried to stop the tears

"I won't." He stood his ground in front of you

"Leave, they're gonna pick me up any minute and I don't want you here to ruin it"

"No. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you." he took your hand and you pulled it away quickly

"Don't touch me. My trust in you is broken, there's no going back" you denied as you took a few steps away from him

"Please" his eyes were the ones that were watery now, you could tell he was being honest, but you couldn't forgive him after what he made you feel.

"Y/ninnie, time to gooo" A voice cooed from the door as you froze

"Chan Hyung?" Hyunjin turned himself faster than ever, as his eyes met his leaders

"Hyunjin? I... I didn't expect you here" the older one blinked a few times as you observed everything from behind Hyunjin's body

"Hyung... What are you doing here?"

You thought that getting him back was gonna make everything better, but hearing the hurt in his voice broke you even more.

"Mate, I can explain" His leader walked inside

Hyunjin didn't even say another word, he just walked past his member, looking back at both of you, and left the room as one tear rolled down his face.

You felt how your world crashed inside of you. Turns out that getting him back was not what you needed, and just hurt yourself even more.

#skz #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #hyunjin skz #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x you #hyunjin #bang chan #hyunjin x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #skz x you

169 notes · View notes

7s3ven · 2 months

Note

hii ! i love your writing so much so you know i had to request a luke imagine 💝

i’m thinking of a reader with a protective godly parent (your choice of which god), who is very selective on who they allow their child to date. luke has loved them for years, so one night he prays to their parent for approval. idk if you’ve watched gilmore girls, but I’m imagining the scene where dave tries to convince lane’s mom to allow her to date ! (if you haven’t seen the show, its a popular clip on tt that you could look up if u wanted)

i’m picturing fluff but could def make it angst too, so it’s whatever you want! also, i’m a fem reader, but i don’t mind gender neutral or anything like that

tysm ! ❤️

DAVE AND LANE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ENDING GAME

I LIKE ME BETTER. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Luke is on a mission to prove himself to the father of the girl he loves. He’ll do anything for her hand, even if said god is asking him to do some particularly stupid stunts.

“I like me better when I’m with you.”

Warnings: drinking, smoking, and vaping mentioned

A/N: Guys… I love loser! Luke AND I KNOW YOU DO TOO. I feel like Dionysus would be the guy to put Luke through all this stuff just for his own amusement

Also, this is my little birthday gift for y’all 😽. Bc it’s my bday today 🙀

—

The first thing when you thought of a daughter of Dionysus’ was a troublemaker, one that rivalled the Stoll brothers. Maybe an alcoholic with bad habits engraved in her mind like her father.

Y/N was a total shock to the camp. How could such a sweet, kind, dazzling girl be the daughter of Dionysus? She didn’t have one mean or sarcastic bone in her body.

She was as bright as Apollo’s kids, as beautiful as the Aphrodite girls prancing around in mini skirts and small tops, and as friendly as the Demeter children who grew roses alongside her. So, it wasn’t a surprise that boys craned their heads to peek at her, something her father hated witnessing. Nobody, not one mere mortal or even a godly being, was good enough for his beloved daughter.

Dionysus held Y/N close. She reminded him of her mother, who died giving birth to her. He had already lost one important woman in his life. He wasn’t going to let history repeat itself again.

“Dad?” Y/N called out into her father’s room, wrinkling up her nose when she almost stumbled over a wine bottle rolling around. Her father was forbidden to consume alcohol but that didn’t stop him from tricking the younger campers into fetching him some.

After concluding that her father wasn’t in his quarters, Y/N took the bottle and wandered to find a bin. The trash cans were always moving around, which made it a mission to find one.

As Y/N passed by the Hermes cabin, she heard her name. She glanced over her shoulder, innocently staring at the pair of boys who were conversing outside. One was leaning against a wooden pillar while the other rested his arms against the railing of the porch.

One noticed Y/N and he nudged his friend, quickly changing their conversation topic.

Y/N recognised Luke Castellan. The Aphrodite girls loved to rave about him, about how handsome and talented he was. How they wished they could kiss him. How they wanted to be held in his arms.

He wasn’t bad looking in Y/N’s eyes, quite adorable actually. She watched as his lips curved into an amused smile as he looked at Chris and how his eyes crinkled slightly. Despite wanting to admire him, Y/N forcefully turned her head. She wasn’t allowed to date. That was one of her father’s golden rules.

She was allowed to drink, allowed to smoke, probably even allowed to go skinny-dipping in the dead of night. Her father was fine with anything as long as she wasn’t around any boys. Of course, she never did consume alcohol or take a much needed hit from a cigarette. She had seen other kids do it.

One of the Ares kids was constantly sneaking in and out of camp to buy new vapes. She had even witnessed Luke of all people, the esteemed golden boy, the role model, blow a cloud of smoke from his lips.

Y/N was always scared she was missing out but she valued her healthy lungs, which had played a part in her surviving a terrifying harpy while on her way to camp.

“She’s perfect.” Luke whispered to Chris.

“Too bad Mr D won’t let you near her.”

It was a known fact that nobody was allowed to date Y/N. She was the camp princess. The only demigod with a parents who cared enough about her to be actively involved in her life. Not even Annabeth had that kind of bond with Athena.

Luke hoped one day Dionysus would let him near Y/N. Until then, he was fine admiring her from afar because he knew no other guys could approach her either.

"You know, I heard Dionysus won't be at the campfire tonight... you could make a move." Chris nudged Luke, muttering quietly so nobody else heard him.

Luke had always been determined to be the first to sweep Y/N off her feet. This was his chance to fulfil that broad claim. He didn't know how he'd do it but when there's a will, there's a way.

All throughout the day, Luke kept close tabs on Y/N. When she was in the arena he was there too, polishing the spare swords. When she was in the garden, Luke happened to be amongst the tall grass too. And he gazed longingly at her from across the pavilion during lunch. She sat alone at her table, Dionysus nowhere in sight.

Luke's heart hammered in his chest as he slowly stood up. Chris slapped his back as a way of encouraging him but it only made his anxiety spike.

“Go get her, tiger.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Luke picked up the pace when he realized that a few other boys the same idea as his. “Hey, Y/N.” He got to her first.

She lifted her head, staring at him through her lashes. She smiled. “Hi, Luke.” She saw his eyes light up.

“You know my name?”

“I’ve been here longer than you. Plus, it’d help concerning if I didn’t know the name of the best swordsman.”

“I’m not that good.”

“You won in a 4 V 1 battle.” Y/N pointed out.

“Did I? I didn’t even notice.”

Y/N let out an amused laugh but she immediately cut herself off when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. Luke cleared his throat, standing upright.

“Good afternoon, Mr D.” He politely greeted the god.

“Scram, Castellan.” Mr D ordered, glowering at the teenager. Luke quickly nodded and speed-walked back to his table, where Chris was trying to muffle his laughter.

“He wasn’t even flirting with me, dad.” Y/N huffed and furrowed her eyebrows. Her eyes wandered to Luke, feeling a little sorry for him.

“Stop looking at him, Y/N.” Dionysus lightly scolded her. Y/N pouted and pushed the food on her plate around with her fork.

“I wish you would let me date. I’m the only girl who hasn’t kissed someone.” She muttered, huffing.

“I will not let you date a hooligan.”

“Daddy, Luke isn’t a hooligan. He’s sweet. He’s the best swordsman in three hundred years.”

“Which means he could easily hurt you.”

“He wakes up early to go for a run.”

“Wow, the perfect set-up to cheat.”

“He’s good with kids.”

“He’ll want his own kids with you soon.”

“That last one didn’t even make sense.”

“I know a man’s mind, Y/N. Luke Castellan is a dangerous boy.”

Y/N glanced at Luke and Dionysus followed her gaze. Luke was attempting to balance a spoon on his tongue while Chris cracked up.

“Dangerous, huh? I’m absolutely terrified.” Y/N sarcastically deadpanned.

“He’s acting innocent.”

“Sure.”

Fathers always had a weird vendetta against the idea of their daughters dating. Dionysus was no different. If anything, he was worse. He was always popping up at the worst times, such as just now. He never let the attention of a boy linger on Y/N for too long, scared it would take her away from him. Perhaps he was doing it on purpose.

“It’s so unfair.” Y/N huffed as she plucked petals off a rose Silena had randomly given her. “He won’t let me date or go to the parties. I’m not even allowed to look at a boy!” Y/N groaned, leaning back in her foldable chair.

She was sitting with Silena in front of the quiet lake, watching as the wind rippled across the still water.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Silena suggested, sipping on a tall glass of whatever drink she had mixed.

“Nothing works! Someday he’ll have to let me date. He can’t stop me forever. I’m almost twenty now!”

Silena hummed before offering Y/N some pineapple juice.

“Any new gossip, though? Besides Mr D being a total cock block.”

“Well… there’s this one guy.” Y/N murmured, shyly flicking her straw around. Silena immediately sat up.

“Tell me everything!” She quickly demanded. “What’s his name? Is he cute? Can he fight?”

“He can’t fight… and he’s good-looking. He’s, uh,” Y/N diverted her gaze elsewhere, “Also a son… of Hermes.”

“Luke Castellan!” Silena exclaimed without hesitation. “I knew there was something going on when he approached her! Why haven’t you taken an interest in him before? You and him have been here for ages.”

“He had a middle part before.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Silena let out a quiet giggle as she relaxed again, kicking her feet in excitement. “Ask him out.”

“You’re forgetting one problem. My dad!”

Silena shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Make Luke prove himself to Mr D. That worked with my dad!”

“Luke proved himself to your dad?”

“No, silly! It was another boy. But if Luke wants to be seen as worthy, he has to impress Mr D!”

“I guess.” Y/N mumbled as she slowly nodded her head.

“Great. Let’s get ready for the campfire. A new Ares boy arrived and I want to see Melo flirt with him. She flirts with everyone.”

Y/N poked a large marshmallow through the skewer before shoving it into the hot flames in front of her. Silena was talking but she was too spaced out to hear a word.

Y/N aimlessly hummed and occasionally nodded her head. “Yup.” She muttered, turning her marshmallow over and watching as the soft white treat turned crisp.

“Are you even listening? I said Luke is staring at you.”

That got Y/N’s attention. She quickly lifted her head, her gaze immediately searching for the brunette. She found him amongst the Hermes kids and a few of the Aphrodite girls loitered around him. He smiled at her for a split second before his eyes flickered to Y/N’s marshmallow.

He subtly pointed at it and Y/N huffed once she realized her marshmallow had caught fire and been burnt black. “That was my last one.” She threw the skewer into the fire, allowing the hot flames to swallow it up.

“Well, you did keep eating them.” Silena pointed out.

Y/N sent her a small glare. “You’re literally eating one of my marshmallows right now. You have a whole pile sitting on your skirt!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Silena was quick to shove the rest into her mouth. “Bye!” She exclaimed but her words were muffled by the marshmallows.

“You owe me!” Y/N called out after her.

“Is Silena stealing marshmallows again?” Luke chuckled as he came to a stop in front of Y/N. He shoved his hands into his pockets whilst Y/N nodded.

“She does this every time. She’s stealing from Annabeth now!” Y/N wildly gestured over at Silena who was sweetly convincing Annabeth to hand over a few marshmallows.

“She should be notorious for being the marshmallow thief.” Luke grinned. He sat down beside Y/N, their shoulders gently brushing.

“Sorry about my dad at lunch.” Y/N blurted out. “He can be a tad… overprotective. You know how he is.”

“Well, I did see him set somebody’s clothes on fire for winking at you.”

Y/N quietly sighed. “Yeah… poor Nick. May he rest in peace.”

Luke glanced over at Nick who was guarding his marshmallows with his life. “He isn’t dead, you know.”

“Yeah, but he looked like he died back then.”

A familiar presence appeared from behind the pair and Luke immediately stiffened while Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Castellan. What are you doing talking with my daughter?” Dionysus sounded friendly yet when he slung an arm around Luke’s shoulder, he could tell the god was holding back on strangling him.

“We’re just talking about Silena and her marshmallows, daddy.” Y/N quickly piped up, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Castellan, let’s have a chat, shall we?” Dionysus dragged Luke off before either of the teens could stop him.

“Mr D, before you say anything, please don’t set me on fire! And if you do, spare my pants! These were expensive and I even got them on sale!”

“Keep your pants on, kid.” Dionysus grunted, knowing Luke was fully prepared to unbutton his jeans in order to preserve them. “What business do you have with my daughter, hm?”

Luke visibly relaxed at the idea of his jeans surviving the convention. “If it isn’t too bold to say, Mr D… I like her. A lot. I have for… years now. But I’ve always respected your wish to distance her from boys. I’ll even pray to you. I’ll give you wine. I’ll pray to you with wine and vodka and butterscotch and, uh, more wine! And grapes! Big, red grapes! Just give me a chance!”

Dionysus held up a hand to stop Luke’s aimless rambling. “You want to have a shot with my daughter?” He asked. Luke frantically nodded. “Alright. Do as I say and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Luke thickly gulped. He didn’t like that mischievous look in Dionysus’ eyes but nevertheless, he agreed. “Thank you, Mr D!”

Luke was the first camper to wake up. He reached under his bed, pulling out a large bottle of vintage wine he had been saving for this very occasion.

“Good morning, Mr D!” He cheerfully exclaimed, clearly showed the god the label of the alcohol.

“It’s worse now that you’re here.” Dionysus grumbled, yet he held out his chalice for Luke to pour him a much needed drink. Once he had gulped it all down, he turned to face Luke again. “Alright, first task, get rid of some rogue hellhound. Chiron sent me to do it but you’re more than capable, right?”

Luke was in no position to disagree.

“It’s near camp so don’t get ya knickers in a twist.” Dionysus stood up, brushing the bread crumbs off his lamp. “See ya at soon, kid. Oh, and I’ll be taking that.” He grabbed the wine bottle without a care in the world, merrily whistling to him with a small skip in his step.

“Did I just see you talking to my dad?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. Seeing her dad get along with a camper was a rare sight.

“Somewhat.” Luke muttered. “Uh, good morning? You’re up early.”

“I went out for a morning jog.” Y/N smiled as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “So, hell hound catching, huh?”

“Yeah- Wait, what?” Luke’s gaze snapped to stare at Y/N in slightly shock. She stifled a small laugh.

“I heard your conversation. What’s the hell hound all about?”

Luke quietly sighed. “Don’t tell your dad I told you,” He leaned forward to whisper in Y/N’s ear, “But I convinced him to let me befriend you if I did a few things for him.”

Of course, being Y/N’s friend wasn’t Luke’s main priority but it was better than nothing.

“You better get to it, then. I’m getting lonely.” Y/N laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder. He chuckled alongside her.

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.” He calmly brushed past Y/N, his smile faltering, “If I survive this.” He muttered to himself, his hands itching to grab a sword.

Finding the hellhound wasn’t hard. Luke spotted its raven black pelt amongst the bright green bushes. It stood out like a sore thumb. It was getting rid of it that would be the problem.

As soon as Luke carelessly stepped forward, a twig snapped under his foot, the hellhound growled. It loudly barked, baring its sharp teeth at the Hermes boy. He pointed his sword at the beast, narrowing his eyes.

“I swear, if you kill me, Hades better revive me so I can date Y/N.” Luke launched forward, tackling the large dog. It howled as his sword scratched its leg. “Nice dog!” Luke nervously chuckled. The hellhound barked again, kicking Luke with its powerful back legs.

“Easy now!” Luke wheezed, the air being knocked out of him from the repetitive blows.

Luke was supposed to be the best fighter at camp. He never dared picture himself rolling across the ground, practically body slamming a hellhound as mud stuck to his orange shirt.

“Just lie still so I can score a date with my long time crush!” Luke exclaimed as he scrambled to stand up. The hellhound paused in confusion, giving Luke enough time to turn it into fine dust.

“I’m never doing that again.” He muttered to himself as he stormed past the tall trees. Dionysus was standing beside the forest, drinking the wine as he seemed to be waiting for Luke. The god pulled down his sunglasses, bursting into rambunctious laughter when he saw Luke.

“What happened to you?! You look terrible, kid!” Dionysus cackled, throwing his head back in amusement.

“You spilled some wine.” Luke muttered, unamused. His usual perfect skin was now adorned with small cuts and bruises. His shirt was covered in dirt. And his hair what probably taken the brute of the attack. Twigs and leaves stuck out of his messy curled brown locks, which caused Dionysus to snicker.

“I told you it wasn’t gonna be easy, kid. You’ll hate tomorrow’s task even more.”

Luke hated every task.

Monday’s was the hellhound. Tuesday’s little chore was to clean the girl’s bathroom. He found out then how much long hair they lost. The Aphrodite girls always complained about their hair falling out. Well, Luke had found it down the drain.

Wednesday’s shenanigan was to steal Clarisse’s beloved spear. Luke wasn’t sure how he was alive after being caught by her. Thursday was surprisingly peaceful. All he had to do was sneak out of camp to buy Mr D more wine.

It was now Friday. Luke was wondering what Mr D had in store for him today. Breakfast whizzed by as usual. A few Aphrodite girls tried to catch his attention but he was focused on Mr D whispering something in Y/N’s ear.

Luke waited patiently throughout the day to be given an idiotic task. It was lunch time when Mr D approached him.

“You finish this one, kid, and you might have my blessing.”

These words made Luke’s eyes light up. “What is it?” He demanded.

“Follow the trail in the forest, jump across some trees, do a perfect dive into the lake from the highest cliff, and swim across the water towards camp. Easy peasy.”

Luke’s small smile wavered. “You’re… joking, right?”

The blank look on Mr D’s face told Luke he wasn’t. Luke sighed. “I’ll get my towel.”

The run through the forest wasn’t so bad. As soon as Luke gave Mr D his towel, he jogged into the thick vegetation. Mr D would be waiting at the finish line for him, if he ever made it. Climbing trees was not Luke’s forte.

His palms were sweaty as he peered down below, quickly gulping at how far down the ground seemed. “I didn’t know I was this stupid.” He muttered to himself before leaping onto a nearby thick branch. He repeated the action, always barely making it and wobbling.

Small beads of sweat trickled down Luke’s forehead as he hiked up the steep hill towards the cliff under the scorching sun. He could see the small figure of Mr D on the other side of the lake.

Luke was thankful he had taken diving lessons before. With a snippet of hesitation, he gracefully jumped. He hit the cold water, shivering. It felt like small needles poking his body. Luke emerged, panting and spitting out a mouthful of water.

He heard Mr D quietly clap. “Good job, kid.”

“What?!” Luke exclaimed, still too far away to hear the god’s voice.

“I said, good job! It was a decent dive!” Mr D cupped his hands over his mouth.

Luke emerged from the lake, drenched and cold and clutching his body as he searched for some warmth.

“Dad? What’s going on here?”

Both Luke and Mr D stiffened at the sound of Y/N’s voice. “Why was Luke in the lake?”

“Mr D.” Luke cut in, “I have something to say.”

“I’m busy, Castellan.”

“You’re literally standing in front of me. That’s all you’re doing.”

“Don’t let the sassy man apocalypse take you too, Castellan.”

“I have a crush on your daughter, sir. You probably already knew that. I know you have strict rules about dating and boys. But I promise to take good care of your daughter. I’ve only smoked once to try it, I don’t drink because I’m scared it’ll make me stupid, I’ve never gotten a ticket. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, I floss for ten minutes every night and that might seem extreme but cavities are no joke. I do well in activities here and I hardly ever play the video games my siblings do in case the theory of them turning you into a psycho is true. I don’t drink coffee. I hate soda because my stomach can’t handle the carbonation. I’ll willingly eat like a cow if you don’t want me eating meat. I don’t mind wearing a suit in the hot sun. I enjoy spending limited time with Y/N and I really, really, really like her.”

Mr D was silent. Luke subtly cleared his throat. “Uh… Mr D? Please don’t make me repeat that list again.”

Mr D broke into a pattern of snickers. “To tell you the truth, Castellan, I was going to let you date my daughter ages ago. She convinced me. It was just so fun making you do stupid things.”

Luke’s face dropped. “I did all that… for nothing… Clarisse almost killed me!”

Mr D, sensing Luke’s anger, merely rolled his eyes and quickly walked off in a drunken manner. “Have fun, you too.”

“Did you really fight a hellhound?” Y/N asked.

“Yes. It ruined my Hello Kitty socks!” Luke huffed. “But I’d do it again for you. What do you say, Y/N? Will you go out with me?” Luke clasped his hands together as a way of begging.

“I feel a little sorry for you, so okay.” She pulled him into a hug. “You know you’re going to have to prove yourself to my friends now.”

Luke stiffened. “No more hellhounds. Please.”

PJO TAG LIST (FULL) : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @jennapancake @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @justanotherkpopstanlol @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @jamesmackreideswife @2hiigh2cry @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303 @luvvfromme @y0urm0m12 @mochi-lover26 @annispamz

#luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #annabeth chase #greek mythology #luke castellan x you #grover underwood #percy jackson series #luke castellan x reader #camp half blood #percy jackson fanfiction #pjo show #percy jackson show #hermes pjo #rick riordan #luke pjo #pjo series #grover pjo

348 notes · View notes

screamingcryingandthrowinguprn · 1 year

Text

Jealous (Wally Clark x Reader)

A little Wally Clark blurb, because I love him.

Warnings: A little angst, but fluffy comfort! Tried to keep it gender-neutral, and did not use (Y/N)!

Hope y'all like it, and other people will start writing for Wally too!

xXx

You loved you boyfriend exactly as he is, an outgoing and very likeable guy, extremely welcoming. This extended to everyone he met, with the new girl, Maddie, being no exception. You were sympathetic to her situation. It was not easy finding out you died, especially considering she was murdered with no recollection of her death.

It seems like Wally made it his life mission to cheer her up or at least make her feel a little less miserable. While you loved that he wanted to spread his cheer, you felt a little left behind as he shifted his focus to her.

So, when Field Day came, you saw it as a way to not only trash the school on retaliation for your imprisonment, you could also blow off a bit of your anger at the Wally-Maddie situation. As soon as you made it to the field, you picked up a metal bat and began swinging on a wooden pole nearby you. When you heard a vehicle pulling up, you perked your head up, hearing the laughs of Wally and Maddie. You watched as he guided her swings against the vending machines, then whipping off his shirt as he runs around cheering.

As stupid as it was, you could feel angry tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You quietly slipped away from the group, heading back to the school. You had almost made it back without being noticed, until you heard Mr. Martin softly call your name. You stopped, wiping your eyes, and turned towards him.

"Where are you going? Field day is out here," he asks, motioning towards the group of ghosts causing unseen chaos a few yards away.

"I think I'm done for the day. Just need to go take a walk inside, Mr. Martin. A little break from the crazy," you explained, trying to come off as nonchalant. You could tell Mr. Martin did not fully believe you, but he let you go without any further questioning, letting you know you could talk to him later if you needed to. You nodded and slipped back inside.

You roamed the halls of the school, allowing memories of your time whilst alive swirl through your head, some from after your death as well. Anger and sadness swelled in your chest, and paired with your slight jealousy of Maddie, as ridiculous as you knew it was, sent you over the edge. Hot tears blurred your vision, leaking down your cheeks as your forehead met with the cool metal of the lockers. Your fists slammed against the red, the sound echoing down the halls as a soft sob left you.

You were angry at yourself for getting this upset. You knew Wally loved you, that he would never intentionally hurt you. And you were sure Maddie was not looking for anything more than friendship, if she was even looking for that among her investigation.

Your loud thoughts and sobs left you deaf to the boy calling out to you from down the hall. you weren't made aware of his presence until his hand made gentle contact with your shoulder. You whipped around, startled, until your eyes met the rich brown eyes that you love so much. His eyebrows furrowed together as he glanced at the wet marks running down your face.

"Hey, what's wrong," he asked, concern laced in his voice.

"It's nothing, Wally. I'm just being silly," you replied, moving your arm to wipe your face.

"It's not silly if its making you this upset." His hands moved to your face, cupping your cheeks and tenderly wiping the wetness from under your eyes. You groaned, wanting to hide your face from him as you realized he wasn't planning on letting you go without an answer.

"Okay, okay, I have been feeling a little off lately," You started, only continuing once he nodded at you to. "I feel like I should be used to being dead by now, and I am pretty accepting of it, but days like this just remind me that I AM dead. Then I start thinking about my life, which sucks. But also… I haven't seen much of you recently."

He urged you to continue, bringing his face closer to yours.

"You've been a bit busy lately… With Maddie. Don't get me wrong, I love that you are trying to make her afterlife a bit better, and there is no one who can do it better than you. I am just feeling a little left behind."

Wally's eyes widened as a panicked look shot onto his face, dropping his hands from your cheeks, opting for wrapping his arms around your shoulders, crushing your body against his.

"No, no, no. That's not even close to what is happening, I swear. I just want to be friends with Maddie, nothing else," sincerety was apparent in his tone. You let out a quiet chuckle, wrapping your arms around his midsection and holding him as close as you could, burying your face in his chest.

"I know, I know. Call it paranoia. You would never hurt me," you mumbled against him. He pulled back, cupping your face again, staring into your eyes.

"Never ever. You're it for me. All I want and more."

"I don't regret meeting you. You are my everything, Wally Clark."

Your lips met in a sweet, firm kiss, trying to convey all the love you held to each other.

#school spirits (2023)#School Spirits #wally Clark #wally clark x reader #school spirits x reader

873 notes · View notes

xhoneygirlxx · 9 months

Text

One Of The Girls

Modern King!Steve x Fem Reader

summary: Steve only hits you up when it’s convenient for him and you’ll always answer because it feels nice to be what he wants, even if it’s just for a night.

warnings: fboy!Steve, modern au! circa 2018. reader and Steve are both in their early 20's. reader is given the nickname 'trouble'. ooc steve, he's a big meanie and pretty much a douche bag. angst. Minors DNI smut: unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, oral receiving (m), daddy kink, swearing, slight dom/sub, cream pie, insinuations to reader being on birth control, possessive steve, toxic steve! hair pulling. Steve's job is mentioned briefly, I like to think that this version of him works for his dad landscaping, so that's what i put lmao. this is named after The Weeknd's song from the idol and I also use his song 'Try Me' in this, awe well. if i miss anything please let me know! also bad writing and grammar mistakes, not proofread.

a/n: hi my loves! i was inspired to write something based off of this blurb. again, smut is so not my strong suit so i beg that you be nice to me :) i also want to mention that when i was looking for pics for this fic, i couldn't find one picture that gave me fboy vibes bc joe keery is simply bf coded lmao. thank you all for interacting with my posts and just being so lovely to me! i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoy this <3

divider by: @saradika

You knew from the moment you met Steve Harrington it would be trouble, that he'd have you locked down for as long as he wanted. The pretty boy with the nice smile, who said all the right things and made all the right moves. You were a fool from the get go and he knew, he knew it the moment you let him hit that you were his.

Everyone knew about 'king Steve', the boy with the puppy dog eyes but a closet filled with so many skeletons that the door refused to shut. From what you heard he wasn't a relationship kind of guy, that he collected bodies like he was paid for it, and then went on his merry way no matter what carnage he left behind.

He was bad news and you swore you would stay away, not get swept up in the honey like vortex of his eyes, but when he said your name it sounded so right and who were you to refuse someone as tempting as him.

The name satan isn't far off for him, both so beautiful and angelic but rotten to the core, so evil that you often wonder if they were ever created with a soul.

As much as you wanted to let him go, block him out of your life completely, you simply couldn't. All your friends thought you were stupid for playing such a dangerous game but they didn't know him like you did. They didn't know how he actually took care of you when he was done abusing your poor hole, how he'd buy you little gifts simply because it reminded him of you, and they certainly didn't know the boy who would make you laugh so hard your ribs bruised.

At least that's what you tell yourself, how you sugar coat the simple fact that Steve Harrington treats you like trash because let's face it, he does. For every thing he does 'right' he does a million other things wrong. He goes weeks without texting you and the only time he does is when he's desperate. He only takes you to secluded spots just so he can get a nut. And most importantly, he tells you everything you want to hear so that you stay.

You were connected to Steve by a string, no matter how far you pulled away he would pull you right back in. If you were a masochist then he was a sadist and you would take whatever torture he gave you with the biggest smile on your face because at the end of the day you were his and only his.

It's a Friday night and while you'd usually be out with friends, you opted to stay in tonight, too tired from the work week to physically get out of bed.

Under the warmth of your comforter, you scroll through Instagram blindly liking different post on your timeline. The white numbers in the corner of your screen read a little bit past midnight and as badly as your eyes wanted to shut, your brain simply couldn't resist the glow of your screen.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen and your ready to fling it away to dismiss it when your heart rate picks up at the name.

IMessage:

Harrington 🙄

Your finger moves faster than the speed of lightning, hitting on the bubble to open the messaging app.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

It's a simple enough message but you sit and ponder how to respond. You don't want to come off too desperate but you also don't want to wait too long to respond knowing he has other options lined up. Without overthinking too much more, you move your thumbs across the keyboard and sending your message.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

You: nm, why?

Waiting with bated breath, you watch the text bubble pop up to notify he's typing.

Harrington 🙄: wya? lemme scoop you

Bingo.

You: im at home. how long do i have before you get here?

Harrington 🙄: bet. gimme 15 mins.

Your heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is and you shouldn't be hopping around with joy like Snow White when she's singing to the birds, but like always Steve says jump and you say how high.

It should make you sick how he hasn't texted you in two weeks, only now asking to come get you so he can fuck. It should make you sick when you put on your brand new panties, that you may or may not have bought for just him. It should make you sick when you spritz yourself in his favorite perfume, growing flustered at the memory of him complimenting you for it.

All of it should make you sick to your stomach but that's not a possibility when he chose you. He chose you to keep going back to, he chose you to continue seeing and not one and done your ass. A twisted part of your brain is so convinced that he has some sort of feelings for you, the way you do for him. It's like a kaleidoscope, no matter how you twist or turn it, the colors are always so beautiful.

And if everyone wanted to tell you any different, all you had to do was show them the sparkling diamond necklace that hung from your chest. A thoughtful gift from the man they all claimed didn't have any love in his heart, even though you and everyone else knew it was a way to show his claim on you.

The familiar sound of Steve's blacked out Jeep pulling in your drive way makes your heart jump with excitement. Wasting no time, you dash down the drive, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

Pulling the door open you're met with the all too familiar scent of him, Ralph Lauren Ultra Blue swirling in your nose and going straight to your head.

He looks so good in his grey joggers, hugging his thick thighs that he knows drive you crazy. The white Hanes tee he wears is crisp, like he ironed it before putting it on. The sleeves wrap about his toned chest oh so perfectly causing some of his wild chest hair to poke out. To add the icing on the cake he's wearing that gold chain, that damn gold chain you loved looking at when he had you on your back.

"Hey trouble." White teeth flash in the darkness of the car, like the moon that's hung in the sky.

"Hi Stevie," You internally cringe at how needy it sounds, "how was work?" He gives you a small chortle at your question, still smiling that damn smile that could cure deceases.

"It was fine, had to cut the college's lawns. Ya know, the fun stuff." You nod your head at his answer, too nervous to even give a spoken response.

"Anyway, I thought we could take a ride down to lover's." It's said like it wasn't common knowledge already. Giving him a small okay, he leans over and places a quick peck on your lips, before putting the car into drive.

The ride to lover's lake from your house was a short seven minute drive but for some reason it felt like the roads were getting longer and longer. You want to jump out of the car, bile rising in your throat knowing how this is going to end. The heartbreak, the sadness you were gonna feel the minute he pulls out was already hitting you and it hasn't even happened yet.

His radio plays at a louder volume, The Weeknd's 'Try Me' bumping through the speakers.

You're the best I ever had

Baby girl, remind me, mind me

Let me now if it's on

And you know where to find me, find me

Havin thoughts you never had, yeah

You want to roll your eyes at the words but then again maybe he put this on because this is how he felt about you. The logical part of your brain tells you to get real but when you feel the fuzziness in your cheeks, your logic is all but ignored.

Maybe this time will be different, you think.

When he pulls onto the dirt path, he pulls the car under the big oak tree he always does. You wonder if this is where he brings all of his hookups but decide to push that though in the back of your head, not wanting to ruin the night.

"I missed you, trouble." Steve leans his back on the driver side door, watching you with those eyes you feel for all those months ago.

"And I bet you say that to all your little girlfriends." You jest back, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You and I both know that's not true." The low husky tone in his voice makes the fact he didn't deny the accusation of having other girls around, go down that much sweeter.

"You're all talk Harrington," You say seductively, leaning over the center console, "Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

Steve's smile is wicked, pulling the keys out of the ignition, pointing you to get into the back. When you're settled in, he maneuvers ungracefully over the center console, making both of you laugh.

Sitting his body in the middle seat, you swing your leg over his lap, immediately locking your lips with his. Steve's not as rough as he usually is, taking his time like he's trying to memorize the way your mouth felt and tasted.

When you try to speed it up, he wraps his hand in your hair, yanking you off of him.

"Slow and steady, baby. We have all the time in the world." With your hair wrapped around his fist and his hard cock digging into your thigh, his voice is all but calm and sweet.

Moving back in to meet his lips, you match his energy. Rolling your hips slowly, you relish in the way he groans into your mouth. When you drag your hips over his again, you shudder with the way his hard on catches on your throbbing clit. Wetness starts to fill your panties, tummy tightening with want.

Steve's hands move to your hips, guiding your movement. Spit soaked lips leave yours, moving along your jaw down to your neck. Leaning your head up to the roof of the car, he takes that as invitation to massacre the tender skin.

He sucks hard, right where your vein pumps frantically with lust, leaving another mark for you to carry around. One more tattoo right on your heart that beats for him.

Pulling away, a thick finger grabs onto the chain that hides under the collar of your sweatshirt. The small diamond glittering softly in the darkness of the night.

"Look at my baby, wearing her present so proudly. Isn't that right?" It's cocky and it should make you shiver with an ick but it doesn't. It only fuels your delusions.

You hum in response, too dumb off of his kiss to even open your mouth.

"Nuh uh, I asked you a question." Moving your sight down to him, he's already looking up at you. His lips are shining, cheeks puffed from the smile that glitters up at you.

"Yes, daddy." A deep growl comes from the back of his throat, a feral look painting over him.

You pretty much get whiplash from how fast he rips off your sweatshirt, revealing the pretty lace bra in the color he adores so much on you. His lips suck harshly on the skin of your chest, leaving reminds of him for only you to see.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" It's breathy and so desperate leaving your mouth, all that talk about not wanting to look needy right out the window.

When his head moves away from the valley of your cupped breasts, he looks like a kid on Christmas. Eyes twinkling with excitement, like he's been waiting for all year round to hear those words.

"Don't need to beg me now, trouble. It's all yours." The smirk that paints Steve's lips is devilish and if you were in the right headspace you'd scoff at his condescending tone. But right now he was giving you exactly what you wanted and you weren't about to complain.

Clambering off of his lap, you move into the seat next to him, kneeling down. You could double as a dog who waits patiently for their owner to drop their treat, tail wagging and heavily panting.

Steve lifts his hips pushing down his joggers and underwear in one go, his heavy cock jumping up in excitement, bouncing off of his stomach.

The saliva in your mouth pools, almost escaping through your slightly parted lips. Your metaphorical dog bone waiting in front of you but you can't have it until he tells you to, so you wait for him to get get comfy again.

Looking over at you, he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'well?', and that's all you need to hear to move forward, making sure to arch your back when you do.

You decide to tease him a bit, kitten licking the head before sliding your tongue up the prominent vein that sat on the underside. The feeling of him shuttering spurs you one even more, bringing a hand up to his heavy ball sack and gently running a finger over it. You can feel your panties being drenched even more with wetness, just from the thought of how he tastes.

As weird as it might sound, you loved Steve's dick. It was a good seven inches, with the slightest curve that made him hit that special spot every time. He was thick too, so thick you that he always needed to prep you with his three of his fingers before hand.

Bringing your head back to the tip, you dripple spit onto it, smearing it with the precum that's already beaded out. Ever so slowly, you take your hand and begin you jerk him at the base of it. Looking up at him, you can see him eyes closed, brows furrowed together, as his chest moves rapidly up and down.

Deciding that you can't wait any further, you put him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down. Not even halfway down his shaft and you begin to gag around him. Using your hand to take whatever your mouth can't, you move faster. The raunchy sounds of you slurping him up fill the small space of the car.

When Steve jolts his hips forward you can't help but choke, throat closing around him, making him moan deeply.

"I know but you can take it, right?" You do your best to nod your head with him in your mouth. You look up at him with glassy eyes, drool coming out both sides of your mouth, and he chuckles at you.

"So fuckin' pretty." Steve says breathlessly and you beam at the praise, going back to taking him further in your mouth.

You push through the want to gag, putting more and more of him in your mouth. You want to prove something to him, prove that no one else can make him feel like this and it seems to be working when he whines so loud it rings in your ears.

Pulling your hand off of the base, you cup his balls in your hand, messaging the sack gently in your hair. The heavy weight of his hand lands on the top of your head, once again yanking you by the hair.

You whine at the loss of his heavy cock in his mouth, pouting childishly at him when your at eye level with him again. He's panting hard, cheeks fleshed pink, and his hair messy from him running his hand through it.

"It was so good, honey," he breathes, "but I really wanna finish inside of you."

The sentence makes your belly burn even harder than before. Trying to move around in the cramped backseat is challenging, both of you pausing to laugh when your pants get caught on your foot awkwardly.

Once your leggings and panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, Steve takes his time admiring you. His gaze burns you with every movement of his eyes. Here you are, clumsily sprawled out for him in the backseat of his beloved Jeep.

Bringing a hand to your thigh, he rubs it up and down the skin, causing the skin to raise in goosebumps every time his finger would catch on the lip of your heat.

You whimper at him, raising your hips trying to meet his touch where you need him most. Tisking down at you, he shakes his head.

"What's the magic word?" He teases and you pout even harder.

"Please, Stevie? Need you." You say wetly, the burn of tears coming back in your eyes. Steve leans over you, so close that if you brought your head up just an inch, your noses would touch.

"The right answer was, 'Steve is the coolest', but I'll let it slide since you sound so cute." He whispers to you, placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

The tip of his finger runs along your slit and you mewl at the feeling.

"Do you always get this wet, trouble? Or is this just for him." The smile pulled on is one like the joker. Sick and twisted and yet all you see is an angel from above.

"S'for you. S'always for you, daddy." It comes out like a slur, so drunk off of one little touch.

"That's my girl." It's more like a whisper when it comes out of his mouth.

His finger diving into the sticky mess that's been made in between your legs. Swirling his finger around your hole, spreading the wetness up to your bundle of nerves, moving in slow figure eights around it.

Steve hasn't even put a finger inside you yet and the lewd squelching of your pussy can probably be heard for miles. The feeling of him putting more pressure on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure. When the first finger breaches your hole, your eyes close in euphoria.

Even with just one of his fingers inside of you, it feels way better than anything else. The thickness of it stretching you further than two of yours could.

Still using his thumb to circle your clit, he pushes another finger in. Starting off slow, he pumps both into you, curling them up in a 'come hither' motion.

You're high off of him, off of the way his hands feel, and how good he's making you feel. All of that waiting and wondering when he'd reach out to you paying off in this very moment.

"You can take another one, right? You gonna take three of daddy's fingers like the good girl you are?" His voice is intoxicating and you drink it right up.

You nod your head, babbling 'please daddy' and 'more, more, more". He's eating it right up, the way he's got you dumb and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

Without another word, another thick finger joins the other two. This time he decides to go faster, hitting that spot you struggle to reach on your own. With his thumb still swirling around and now three fingers deep, you can feel the tightness in your stomach building.

You can feel your slick dripping down your ass onto the leather seat beneath you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs pulling up from where he's sat between them, toes curling in a death grip.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm cumming," The sentence gets cut off with the air that's trapped in your throat.

His movements don't stop, guiding you through your orgasm. When the waves of your orgasm washes over you, your legs relax like they're filled with jelly, slobber running down the side of your face, and your chest moving unsteady as you try to catch your breath.

You hiss when he removes his hand from you, mourning the loss of feeling full. Moving his fingers to his lips, he sucks your juices off of them one at a time, releasing them with a pop when he's done.

Using his other hand, he brushes some of the hair that's sticking to your face with sweat behind your ear. Placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, he glances down at you. The harsh black that once enveloped his irises are now softened with a look that you have yet to decipher.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart." He coos at you, running his thumb along your jaw. "You okay? Need a break?"

"No, I'm okay Stevie." Your smile is nothing but pure happiness. Blame it on the after glow of your orgasm all you want, but the happiness is purely due to his attentiveness to you.

Placing one more kiss to your deprived lips, he moves his attention to his aching cock. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he jerks himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pushing in gently, his tip breaches your hole and all the air is punched out of your lungs. Even with his prepping, you never seem ready for the real thing.

Going inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to catch your breath, he finally pushes all the way in. After waiting for the okay, he doesn't hesitate to pound into you.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, reworking each and everyone of your organs, but you could careless when it feels this good. You want this feeling forever, the feeling of his weight on top of you, him spreading you out so well.

The gold chain that hangs from his freckled neck dangles in front of you, hypnotizing you with the way it moves back and forth. With all the strength you have, you watch him trying to remember how he looks when he's inside of you so when he ultimately ghosts you, you can close you eyes and imagine it.

Steve looks so beautiful like this, eyes closed tightly, browns pulling together, pink puffy lip tucked behind his straight teeth. You want to take a picture, hang it in a museum for all of the world to see, but this is for only you to see. Your own little memento for you to keep to yourself.

"Fuck you're so wet, hmph, and warm. Jesus" Steve grits out, bringing you back to reality.

Skin slapping off of skin echoes out, loud moans and groans making a lovely soundtrack just for you two.

"Shit, right there!" You cry out when his cock hits just perfectly on your cervix.

"Bullseye," He whispers to himself before ramming into you even harder than before.

Your mouth curls into an O shape, no words or sounds coming out. The feeling of your finger nails raking down his back backs him grunt loudly.

"You and this pussy are mine. Tell me you're mine." He demands but you can't do it, too overwhelmed with the way your stomach has started to tighten.

Because you don't answer right away, he snakes his hand down to your abused clit, circling it again causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

"Don't make me tell you again, trouble." He spits out.

"I'm yours Steve. S'yours." You shout, your orgasms approaching faster and faster.

"S'always gonna be mine, right? No one else?" He question and it sends your head reeling.

"Always yours, always fuck, yours." You're babbling now, tippy toeing on the brink of your release.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock." He pants, going faster and faster as he does.

Without argument, you're hurdled over the the edge, gushing and pulsing around Steve. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high now.

"Cum in me, daddy. Wanna feel it so bad." You coax, wanting to feel the warmth of his seed filling you up.

"I love how you feel, baby. You got, motherfuck, no idea." His strokes are starting to lose rhythm, sloppily moving as he continues.

"I love this pussy s'much. Fuckin' love yo-" Before he can finish his statement, he cums with a guttural moan.

Your mind goes blank, eyes snapping open with confusion. Was he about to say he loved you? Is that what he was going to say? Every single question runs through your mind while the boy in question is collapsed on top of you, breath choppy and erratic as he comes down.

After what feels like the world's longest minute, he removes himself off of you, pulling his dick out from your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, missing him even more than before.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls open the center consul and takes out a couple of napkins. Returning his attention to you, he wipes down the mess of you and his release off of you, causing you to shudder. He repeats 'sorry' over and over again as he does.

After that, he uses what's let to clean himself off before getting redressed. You move from your position on your back, sitting upright to ungracefully put your clothes back on. In the darkness of his car, you can't find the panties you were once wearing, deciding to forget about them and pull your leggings back on.

The blissful after glow that was once there is now demolished, a big elephant taking up most of the space now. When he moves back to the driver seat, you follow right behind him, planting yourself in the passenger.

Steve doesn't turn the car on just set, he just sits looking straight ahead through the clouded windshield to the darkness of the woods that sit in front of you. You want to say something, break up the awkwardness that sits between you two but you don't know what to even say.

It smells like sweat and sex, every window is fogged up with both of your hot breath, and the only sound that can be heard is the breaking of your heart.

You know he won't be back in two weeks, you know that his texts will stop rolling in, and that he'll eventually find someone to fill your spot. The bloodshed that's now left, of whatever this was, now fills the backseat of his car. A crime scene that will haunt him every time he looks in the rearview mirror, a murder by his own hands.

This cat and mouse game isn't fun anymore for Steve, not when he's lost at his own game. You're the cause of his demise, the girl that's broken through all his barriers.

Unbeknownst to you, you're all that Steve thinks about. Every morning, noon, and night, it's you that is on his mind. The months of seeing you, feeling you, the taste of you, were killing him softly. Steve didn't buy gifts for other girls, yeah he fucked around, but he never kept one around the way he did with you and he surely didn’t fuck them raw the way he does with you.

Steve was falling for you, opening himself up in such a vulnerable way that it scared him. He stopped the late night drive going nowhere, switching it to strictly going to lover's lake. The talks that he had with you, all the times you made each other laugh, were now replaced with short answers. Meeting up with you almost all the time now became once every couple of weeks.

You were the one thing, the one person Steve wanted and needed in his life but he couldn't give into it. He was a bad person, an asshole who turned good people into shells of themselves, and out of everyone he couldn't ruin you. He wouldn't ruin you.

Putting the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on, headlights illuminating the trees around you. Cracking the windows, he lets the cool air sweep the scent of you out of his car. Putting the car in drive, he presses down on the gas as hard as he can, taking off of in a flash.

The car ride home is silent, only the hum of his music can be heard with the whooshing of the wind. Anxiety fills your body, picking and pulling the skin around your nails with your teeth.

The loud ding of his phone rings out, a notification popping up on the Apple radio screen. Your heart cracking when you see it.

IMessage:

Jess💦: Still coming over?

Taking his phone out of the cupholder, his eyes are still trained on the road. As he pulls up to the red light, he types out something quickly and then puts it back down.

Another ding is heard and another notification pulls up on the larger screen.

IMessage:

Jess💦: See you soon daddy

Tears fall quietly from your eyes, your heart now completely shattered in the front seat of his car. You should've know, you did know and you still did it. You let your naïve heart believe that maybe you could change him, and you ended up looking like the idiot everyone said you were.

You can't even be mad because they were right, you were a goddamn idiot to think Steve Harrington loved you, let alone liked you enough to change.

More tears fall onto your cheeks, the burning feeling of a choked sob sits in the back of your throat. It feels like everything that could've went wrong, did just that.

The cold nip of the night air can't compete with the way your veins have frozen over and your heart slowly turning into a lump of coal. When he pulls in front of your house, he puts it in park and looks over at you.

“So,” he hesitates, “do you need money for a plan b?”

Your mouth hangs low in shock and he’s looking at you cluelessly. Scoffing at him you pull the handle to the door open.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’m on birth control.” Putting a foot onto the ground, you got to get out, pausing turning your head back to him.

“Not like the world needs another you in it.”

Getting out of the car, you slam the door so hard you're surprised the glass doesn't shatter.

This was the end of whatever you and Steve were, him being the one to cut that pesky string that kept you close to him. Steve Harrington has changed you, a hateful person now replacing the sweet girl he loved so much.

The girl that Steve Harrington loves was now dead and Steve Harrington was now dead to you.

Thank you all for reading. The ending is rushed but we won't speak on that lmao. Love you all <3

#steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader

361 notes · View notes

seancekitsch · 8 months

Note

Hi if you're open to requests: could you do an Adrian x fem reader with the premise of them having known eachother in highschool and sticking together as ostracized weirdos. Reader leaves evergreen after graduating HS and comes back 10 years later and runs into Adrian. I love your writing and how you characterize Adrian!!

hi hi hi i hope you enjoy this it got away from me and now its a full blown fic

A Homecoming

warnings: best friends to strangers to lovers, gut chase is his own warning, maybe ooc, angry drunk sex, bad speeches, love confessions, angry fluff if that makes sense, happy ending even tho both idiots are in their bag down bad

“How the fuck did Laura meet Gut Chase of all people?” you whisper to yourself as you pick out produce to stock the fridge of your Airbnb. It's a crappy one bedroom house on what was once the nicer side of town, the side with lovely little suburbs away from all of the apartments and trailer parks that people turned their nose up at. You remember those noses turned up at you for your lovely little apartment that you called a childhood home. Now it feels freaky to be on the other side, in a rancher in a suburb with cute little pinterest craft-esque decor on the walls and a Friends reference as the wi-fi password. Fucking yuck.

You never expected to be back in Evergreen after high school, especially not for a wedding. You flew across the country for college to basically avoid this very situation, but here you are. Your college roommate who got a job in Seattle bringing you back to your home town to marry easily the biggest douche from your high school. Your invitation to the fifteen year reunion came in the mail and was thrown directly into the trash several months ago muttering about how they even fucking found your newest address, and then the fuckin save the date from Laura came behind it. You’d known Laura was dating some gym trainer, you knew she said he was from a small town. She’s always been one to fall fast and hard, and you can count on more fingers than you've got the amount of times through college and grad school she had cried over a failed date with “the one” before getting back in the proverbial saddle.

You fondle an onion and think about the last time you saw Gut Chase. It was… the morning after your graduation. The morning you left for Gotham. He was sat at the breakfast bar of their house sipping coffee and raising an eyebrow at you trying to sneak out of his house for once instead of into it.

Now having taken that trip for the first time in reverse, your long taxi ride from the airport to the airbnb felt like a death march. You’d left behind so much and burned any bridges that could have been left here.

June 2008

“The guys are never going to believe this.”

“Dude, you’re not telling any guys about this,” you laugh, wrapping yourself around Adrian’s torso, the lean muscle taught under his skin as he laughs with you. You weight dips and moves on the trampoline below you, the stupid double wide sleeping bag doing nothing for your back, especially after you’ve been standing in heels all day and sweating in your graduation cap and gown.

“But then I can finally tell Gut and Chris it’s just that I’m a late bloomer! And if I don’t tell them it was you they won’t believe me!” Adrian exclaims, not at all worried by the open windows of his own house or the other backyards that the dawn is going to slowly creep over. You roll your eyes, your best friend always consumed with impressing his older brother and his friends.

“That's not a thing. Isn’t it enough that we had this?” you ask, you cheek pressing into his bare chest. His legs tangle in the early summer heat under the cheap sleeping bag.

“No!” He exclaims, laughing like you should be in on it too, but you don’t laugh with him. Your virginity was never important to you, it’s just that everyone else in Evergreen sucks. He’s the only one that you would have deemed worthy anyway.

You figured: You leave for college tomorrow, he’s the best person you know, and he’s hot even if he doesn’t know it. You’re both virgins- or- you were until you dragged him out into the backyard around two in the morning after passing back and forth a bottle of peach schnapps that he had been arguing about with you all night until he figured out it tasted like candy; the party his older brother hosting in yours and Adrian’s name very quickly became not about you and about him and his friends who had graduated a few years prior.

Tomorrow you’ll be a month away from being eighteen and across the country by yourself and you haven’t told anyone but your mother, but it hasn’t quite hit you yet. It can’t when a sticky condom was thrown across the yard twenty minutes ago, and That’s Not My Name by the Ting Tings is bass boosted and floating in the air from the house, and Adrian Chase just gave you your first orgasm.

“Maybe it is,” he admits, his voice now heavy with sleep. You don’t know when he falls asleep, but you leave before he wakes.

Your hand shakes at self check out, wondering if Adrian and his brother patched things up enough to be a groomsman. Laura made you a bridesmaid over FaceTime, talking your ear off about how much Dorian wasn’t her normal type but when you know you know, you know? And even then it never struck you to remember that Gut’s real name is Dorian. Maybe you’d be paired up, and maybe Adrian had changed enough in this span of time to forgive you and look you in the eye. You don’t count on it, honestly, you expect him to throw a fit the second he sees you. You don’t blame him for that hypothetical reaction either. It’s been over a decade with two degrees six terrible boyfriends and only one friend who ever came close to how special Adrian was for you. And now she’s marrying Adrian’s dickhead brother.

Its only a few minutes after you load the dirty old fridge of your airbnb (definitely only getting three stars, the place is sketch) that you phone rings, Laura’s contact illuminating the dull lighting of the kitchen. You put her on facetime while you load the pantry.

“BITCH!” she screams, her smile illuminating a dim screen as her voice cuts through all of the loud background noise, “Where are you?”

You laugh, tossing the veggie chips into the back of the pantry.

“Where am I?” you scoff, “I’m at my Airbnb, I was about to throw on a bad movie and drink some wine. Where are you, Miss Bride?”

She puts the phone up close to her face, only her eye showing as she fake whispers into the mic.

“I’m at Hooters,” she confides like its the funniest secret.

“Oh, with Mr. Groom?” you ask, teasing her as you reach for the bottle and the corkscrew, one of the few amenities left to you in the drawers.

“With tha whooooole wedding party,” she draws out the words without taking the phone away from her eye.

“You had their LIT’s, didn't you?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her.

“And I just bought one for you,” she confirms, “So you better get an uber or I’m going to switch out your bridesmaid dress for an Aquaman costume.”

“You slut!” you shout, swiping up on her call to obey her and pull up uber, “You wouldn't. Aquaman is such a chump.”

“So get over here!” she laughs, and it's infectious. God, you've missed Laura. Sure, you facetime twice a week, but she lived with you for six years and it's like losing a hand to lose her being just a few layers of drywall away at all times.

“I am, I am! Its ordered,” you assure her, and a comfortable silence settles, she sips her drink, her hand clawlike to hold both hers and yours so she can hold her phone in the other.

“You know he fucks the fish, right?” you ask.

“You're the second person to say that tonight!”

The uber to Hooters is quick, thank god. The bright lights feeling harsh on your skin and you really wish Laura hadn't threatened you with the costume. It’s manipulation at its finest. You had the most recent kissing booth movie right there ready to be made fun of over your coffee mug full of wine. But no, you have to stand around in a Hooters in your hometown. Youre flooded with relief, however, when you walk past the hostess stand and clock that theres a touchtunes machine in the corner so you can at least entertain yourself with awful song choices. You know who would love hearing the Monster Mash followed by Call Me Maybe? You and Laura. Especially after she tries to pour that LIT down your throat the moment she sees you.

“There she is!” Laura shouts, helping you tilt back the glass immediately. It's just like college again, your days back in Gotham where you’d wander away from the college bars and see how much liquor you could get for your money.

“Mm, holy shit,” you cry out, barely able to down the drink in one go, “That's how you snagged your groom?”

She crinkles her nose at you,her blonde hair falling in her face as she leans in close.

“He happened to like my squat thrust, I know I have to work harder than that to win you over,” she quips, and you rub your nose with hers before pushing yourself out of her arms reach.

“Now where is he? Who are these bridesmaids I’m sharing my spotlight with?” you ask, letting her lead you further in towards the bar.

Gut Chase himself meets you halfway across the restaurant.

“Y/N!” He shouts, “You’re kidding me! I thought Laura-girl was joking when she said she knew you.”

“Gut!” you shout back, surprising yourself that you're actually sort of happy to see the familiar face. He pulls you under his bicep quickly, ruffling your hair as if you were his little sibling.

“She was so weird after she got kicked off the cheer squad,” he explains to his fiancee, “She spent all her time in my basement with my little brother! This one lived with us.”

“Oh, Adrian?” she asks hesitantly trying to remember his brother's name , and something weird twinges in your chest.

“Yeah,” you manage to get out, your voice and your breath practically leaving you.

Is he here? Does he hate you? Does he miss you? The first few years without him were tough, you would turn to tell him something or think of something funny you had to say and it all just had to float into the wind, forgotten. Then Laura sort of filled that gap. Then your D&D group. But the Adrian sized hole can only be squeezed into, never full filled, never a perfect fit.

“Yo, Adrian!” Gut calls out before you can stop him, “Get your ass over here!”

Gut releases his grip on you and a man across the bar looks up from his phone.

And it's like time slows down, and as he slides off the barstool “Foxy” by Jimi Hendrix floods the air like that scene in Wayne's World. Its like he moves in slow motion, his sweater doing nothing to obscure his physique and muscles, his glasses doing nothing to hide those beautiful eyes of his. He's changed so much, but not at all, just filled out what was already there. You're not sure if it's the LIT or the sight of him that's making your knees feel like they’re buckling.

“Why is she here?” Adrian asks his brother, his posture straight and tone unreadable, and Gut gives him a warning look. You almost pity Laura that you didn't brief her on on your intimate knowledge of the family she was marrying into.

“Bro…” Gut warns him, less than subtle. You've seen this before, but in high school, Gut would have just hit Adrian already or called him a pussy.

“Hey, uh, Gut? Sorry, Dorian?” he turns his attention to you as you correct yourself, “Why don't you take my dear Laura for another LIT? I could use another one too.”

Laura looks at you like you've got three heads for commanding the situation, but gladly lets her fiance lead her back over to order another, whispering to you that she’ll bring yours on Gut’s tab.

Adrian stares at you, looking you up and down, sizing you up… not sexually, maybe… maybe? Wouldn't be the worst thing, he’s always been handsome to you, but he's really filled out.

“Why are you here?” he asks you directly, his knuckles turning white around his beer.

“I….,” words fail you for a moment, breath hitching in your throat as a million things want to spill from your lips.

I’m sorry, I’ve always regretted leaving you, I wanted you to come with me, I wish I took you with me, I compared even the stupidest tinder date to you, I want to make you laugh, I loved you since I was a kid, Even Laura doesn’t get me like you do.

But you don’t say any of that. You can’t.

“I’m here for the wedding,” you say, holding it all back even though you could collapse into his arms at any moment.

“Me too,” He says, “Only I’ve been here and who knows where you were.”

Okay; you deserve that snark from him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

An understatement of the century but it’ll do for now. If you say too much, you’ll cry. You cannot cry in a Hooters.

“Or say goodbye?”

“I know, I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry for everything.”

Adrian’s arms fall around you, the cold heel of the bottle of the glass digging between your shoulder blades as you lean into the hug against him. It feels like home being in his arms again, only now the arms are filled out with muscle and he

“I’m sorry too,” Adrian offers, but there's no real emotion behind it. You can tell he doesn't really mean it; an empty thing to say just because he thinks he should, but that doesn't bother you.

“There's nothing to be sorry for, “ you console him genuinely, your hand rubbing up against his henley covered bicep.

“I know, I’m just saying that. I’m not the one who abandoned my best friend. Now I have a new best friend!”

You pull back, not at all upset because you expect that too, and at this moment Laura comes back with your LIT.

“For courage,” she whispers not at all subtly in your ear before kissing your cheek and running back to her fiance.

“Why do you need courage?” Adrian asks, not pretending he didn't hear that.

“Cause I never should have left… and you look really good.”

It's definitive, it's out there. You can't and you won't take it back for anything. It's the truth. You love Laura and the fact that you met her but you absolutely should not have left Adrian to do it.

You take the straw to your mouth and suck, not pulling away from Adrian, instead your hand still around his back clawing into his sweater to keep him there.

“You look really good too! Pretty, because women don't like being called hot.”

You dont know where he got that from, but you accept the compliment nonetheless.

“You know, I was really mad at you for like a year, but then I just got over it, I figured you were trying to teach me some weird lesson about missed opportunities or acting out part of some romantic comedy but then you didn't come back and… I’ll shut up now,” he says, misreading your attention on him as a bad thing.

“I wanted to call you back,” you admit, “But how do I call you and say: Hey, I’m in Gotham now! Even though we were supposed to get dinner tonight I guess I wont be making those plans. I didnt know what to do.”

“I could have come with you!”

You both know thats a fucking lie.

“I’m glad I got to see you,” you offer, the words so bittersweet on your tongue. His eyes search your face, and you realize then you probably should have re-applied some make up. Its set into your face from the flight this morning and all of the errands you've run. You probably look like some kind of victim.

"Me too, because honesty I've thought about that night a lot. I've tried to rank where it falls between all the threesomes I've had."

Weird flex, but, okay.

"I do too," you admit as you grab the straw for another sip, "not the threesomes thing, but I think about it... about you."

Something about Adrian's gaze has you open and honest, moreso than you would normally be with a man. But then again, Adrian isn't just some man...

“Finish that,” he tells you, his eyes zeroed in to where your lips and the straw connect. You obey, drinking what you can before putting the glass down on the nearest empty table.

“Adrian I-” You get cut off by his lips capturing yours; Adrian kisses you with a passion you haven’t felt in fucking years, the passion of someone who actually cared. Sure, you've had boyfriends and girlfriends, but none have kissed you like this.

Instead of hot and bothered you feel cold… and wet.

“Adrian, what the fuck-?” you whisper when you can break away, something dripping down your leg. His beer spilling as he tilts the bottle carelessly to grip you better. You break away from him to shake the beer off of your jeans, a puddle forming on the ground. He scrambles to right the turned bottle and place it on the same table as your LIT.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m not good at understanding people,” he admits to you as if you didnt spend all of high school attached at the hip, and this time you kiss him, your hands coming up to cup his clean-shaven jawline.

The next thing you know, you're back at your airbnb, having Irish goodbye’d to Laura and Gut and without meeting or talking to the rest of the wedding party. Youre being a bad friend and a bad bridesmaid and you know it. You hadn’t had the chance to ask Adrian why Gut was so friendly to him, though Laura might have a hand in that. You hadn’t had the chance to ask where he worked, what he liked to do, who Adrian now was really.

Adrian’s mouth barely leaves yours the second the door is closed, instead backing you quickly into what he correctly guessed is the bedroom of the house. His reflexes are sharp, unlike the awkward teen he was, and he knows how to perfectly steer you to your bed for the next week.

You walk backwards awkwardly until your calves meet the boxspring unceremoniously. He tilts you back until you fall on your own, your elbows catching you as he follows suit and crawls on top of your figure. You don't know where the confidence comes from, but then again it had fifteen years to form in him. Adrian pulls off your shoes and your pants quickly as he moves up the bed, not even trying to hide his prowess, moving like some kind of well trained machine. He’s come to impress even though he's done more than that by simply not snubbing you or telling you off in the middle of a Hooters, although both would have been deserved.

But you; You feel like you're back out on that trampoline again, your graduation dress pushed up around your waist, all too bare under him. No time has passed, it’s all so familiar -

“I should hate you” he states, his lips hovering over your navel, “But it's weird, I don't! In fact, I feel like I should be thanking you. If hadn't left and rejected me so hard I wouldn't have gotten so buff and good looking.”

“You should hate me,” you agree, your breath and your words feeling lost in your chest under the weight of him on top of you. His lips travel from your navel to your ribcage, pushing your shirt up as he goes, leaving a trail of fire in their path. You arch your back into his motions, your hands helping him pull the shirt off, awkwardly shuffling until you can fling it to some random corner of the room. Adrian’s eyes widen when he sees your bralette, mesh and flimsy and hiding nothing from him.

He pulls one of the dark blue mesh cups down, immediately latching his lips around your pert nipple, sucking and earning a sharp inhale of breath from you. He chuckles against your skin at your reaction to him, and then does it again. Cocky asshole. You can't help but compare this to the trampoline. He was so unsure, fumbling and almost tearful at the fear of fucking something up. You led the way, urged him on. Adrian now needs no urging, no guidance in making you squirm beneath him. His lips release your nipple, and he bites down at the top of the swell of your breast, sure to leave a mark. Youll have to remember to put a spoon in the freezer tomorrow morning or else you could end up with a wardrobe malfunction for the wedding. Cocky bastard, you think, leaving his mark on you.

But really, he’d left so many marks on you that still havent faded. Its the way your ringtone from high school never changed, its the way you bought only the brands of locks Adrian said were best for each apartment you've had, its the way you buy things in teal if theres the option. Your fucking spatula back home is one of his many marks.

“Ah!” you yelp when his bite gets a little too hard, your perfectly manicured fake nails digging into his back. Adrian laughs again and pulls himself up to reach your neck, his hands exploring everywhere they can, teasing at your chest, your waist, your hips.

“Fuck me,” you plead as his lips connect with the pulsepoint on your throat.

“Youre sure?” He asks, “You know, you shouldn’t fuck someone who should hate you. That's just asking for complications.”

And although he gives you an out, he’s already gone back to kissing and licking at your throat and groping at every curve of your body. You're thinking with your pussy, not your mind right now. You know there should be a conversation instead of whats happening right now. Maybe some tears shed, maybe a nostalgic movie and some honest explanations on your part.

But you don't initiate any of that.

“Then fuck me like you hate me,” you say instead.

Adrian grinds his jean clad length against your core, and you whine, girlish and high pitched and embarrassing. He shushes you, removing himself from your grasp to yank off his sweater and undershirt, then his jeans all discarded over the edge of the foot of the bed.

He moves to you, working your panties down your legs until you can kick them off the bed at your ankles, and sheds his boxers with them. His eyes follow the trail of your legs to your center, already dripping and ready for him.

“You really want that?” he asks, and it sounds rhetorical. You didnt know Adrian could do that. He traces his calloused hands up the insides of your thighs, letting his fingertips tease you where you need him most. You nod fervently, arching your back to try to reach him, bring him closer.

“Please?” you ask, wanton and pathetic under him. He draws his thumb between your folds, testing the metaphorical waters. He draws low, anticipation laced moans from your lips, teasing and slow.

And then without warning pushes two fingers into you.

Your gasp echoes against the cliches wall decor, rattling the glass of the live laugh love frame, shaking the flimsy bedframe.

He does not start slowly, no, he gives you no mercy in his motions, his smirk teasing and taunting you as he thrusts his hand.

“Adrian, I- Fuck!” you struggle to find the words, your hands moving to his forearms and digging your nails in, trying to hold on for dear life.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks. Fuck, you didn’t know Adrian could talk like this. And to think, you could have had this the whole time if you just stayed here.

“Yeah,” you whine, “Yeah, please.”

You're not sure what youre begging for. To cum? To feel him? You just want more.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want,” he leans down like he’s going to kiss you, and then instead nips at your lip before pulling back. Its cruel.

His fingers move in, out, in, out, inout, and then slow to a halt inside you. You squirm under him, needing him to do anything. Anything.

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he says, and you flush in embarrassment, neediness and heat settling in your chest.

“Adrian, I need you,” Your voice sounds far away, underwater, foreign to your ears. Who is this person? How and when did you ever get this needy, this desperate? His smile grows, but it does not give you any comfort.

Adrian removes his fingers from you, lifting them up to his nose to smell them.

“Like fucking candy,” he remarks, and pushes his boxers down, easily discarding them.

He leans back down, his weight on you once more. A weighted blanket, a comfort as his chest presses against yours. You kiss him, the way a smoker needs a cigarette, pulling and all consuming; your hands find purchase in his hair, your body fully reactive to every tiny movement of his lips against yours. His tongue sweeps across your lips, easily parting them the same way he easily parted your legs. He moves against you, rock hard in the crux of your thigh, his big hands holding your hips in place as he finds his way. Adrian probes along, pushing his hips in slow teasing motions until he finds his rightful spot at your center.

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he whispers between kisses, and you brace yourself against him, foreheads touching and his glasses fogged.

He pushes into you with a groan, bottoming out and giving you the grace to adjust before he starts to move.

Adrian’s hips rock you, the whole bed, your whole world, your hands tighten around his curls as they pick up in pace, the rhythm of the bedframe banging against the bed punctuating each of his movements. He picks up his pace quickly, and you move in time easily, rolling your hips to meet his with each thrust.

“Fffffuck,” you stutter, losing control of your lips, your tongue, both moving of their own accord and saying shit. There’s a war in your brain, part of you wants to stay in control, wants to make sense of this; the other side wants everything Adrian to overtake everything you.

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he repeats, switching up his angle to make your next moan a pitiful squeak in your throat.

“You,” you gasp again, “You said that.”

His hands roam the geography of your body, mapping each curve and dip of you, not missing a single centimeter. Everything he touches turns to flame, hot under him and hot under his touch, pushing you closer and closer to your boiling point.

You won't last long, you know that. Adrian moans above you, dragging his lips against the corner of yours as he moves, closer and closer.

And then he pulls out. You whine at the missing contact, the chill that sets in without his heat in your orbit. You pout, lips messy and swollen.

“Turn over,” he demands, moving his finger in a circle to demonstrate his intention. You obey quickly, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. His hands land first on your ass, smacking both sides of your cheeks and whispering “hell yeah” in a tone you're definitely sure you weren't supposed to hear. His hands then slide from your ass to your hip, then to your back. He unclips your bra and lets the straps fall down your shoulders.

He bends down over you, letting his chest press into your bare back as he presses a kiss to the space where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Down, girl,” he says, as one of his big hands starts to push your shoulder down until you cave into his movements, folding into the bed until your face hits the pillow.

Fuck, all control of the situation you had, you’ve lost. The ground crumbling out from under you and Adrian can mold and manipulate you any way he wants to, and you want him to.

His free hand strokes down the curve of your back, and then leaves you, only to position himself back at your entrance.

“Oh, you look beautiful like this,” Adrian sighs, sounding strained. You've always trusted Adrian to be honest, and you can believe he means it, like he would worship you face down ass up.

He presses his length into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, a glacial pace until he’s fully sheathed.

Adrian wiggles his hips when theyre fully against your ass, and you huff in laughter, giggling into the pillow before he silences you with a rough thrust.

This new angle feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, but in a way that you want to feel over and over again, in a way that makes you feel breathless and alive. The next thrust and the one after that leave you gasping and struggling for air, the ones after it drawing high pitched whines into the silk of the pillowcases.

He pistons into you quickly after that, like a man with something to prove. He presses his full length into you each time, and each time hitting a spot inside you that has you feeling fuzzy and hot all over. His hand returns to your hip to guide his motions and yours.

You chase your high, rocking back into his thrusts and meeting each of them half way. Your moans are swallowed in the silk, wrapped and buried down deep into the mattress, rooted in him and the moment.

“How am I doing?” he asks, and sensuality gone from his voice, but thats just Adrian.

You moan in response, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave crescent moons in your skin that would last far into the morning.

“Close,” you manage to squeak out, your voice barely audible, but Adrian picks up on what you're trying to say.

“Yeah? You wanna come on my dick?” he asks, but doesn’t give you a choice otherwise. Adrian moves his hand from gripping your hip to between your legs. His fingers circle your clit, just the right amount of pressure to make it feel like you're about to snap.

“Please,” you whine, arching your back further into the friction.

“Let go, baby, let go,” he coaxes you, his lips against your spine and you finally give in to him.

He slows and kisses your shoulder while you ride your high, whispering praise against your skin as you shudder beneath him, his whole frame bent over yours. His hand leaves your clit and both come up to hug around your waist, anchoring you to him and the world and bringing you back down. All you can think of is that you could have had this the whole time. Fifteen years of this.

But then he returns to his former position, the hand on your shoulder returning there as he picks up the pace again. It stings when he starts to move, but not terribly. A soothing burn that you find yourself rocking back into without a second thought.

“Where can I?” He asks through gritted teeth, lifting his hand off of your shoulder so you can lift your head up.

“Inside,” you answer, voice still muffled by the pillow, "I'll get plan b, there's always a coupon for that shit."

“Got it,” he confirms, and then speeds up his pace again. This time his hips are messy, without rhythm as his body meets yours, his voice uncontrolled as me moans without restraint.

Even overstimulated and tired, you rock back in time to meet him, moaning each time his hip bones meet your ass.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-” he stutters, and pulls back unceremoniously, heat streaming and filling you only seconds later. You shift slowly, trying to get your knees out from under you.

Adrian stops you though, one of his hands a soothing comfort on your hip to guide you to a comfier position as his other hand dabs a tissue from the bedside on your back.

He cleans you off remarkably gently, moving over you to throw himself down on the blankets beside you, his head hitting the empty second pillow. Your back feels sticky and cold, but you don't mind at all. You turn your head so at least one one your eyes can peek out at him from where you lay spent and tired, a mess of sweat and spit and butterflies in your stomach. He lays in a similar state, breathing deeply with a lazy smile across his features.

It feels right.

“Stay and cuddle?” you ask, voice wary from use and the need for sleep. You feebly move your hand toward him, reaching out to straighten his glasses.

“Sure,” he says, “But I won't be here when you wake up.”

He puts his big arm across your back, and where you should feel the familiar warmth you only feel ice.

“Really?” you ask, but fuck, thats a mistake. You shouldn't say anything. It's an instant realization you don't want to hear anything he’s about to say.

“It’s what we do, right?” Adrian says it like it’s a joke, but there’s venom in his words. It drips through, from his teeth to yours, and sinks in.

He pulls you close, his actions not matching his words, and snuggles in, his hot breath fanning out against your face. His eyes close and he lets his body relax quickly. You try to do the same, but you end up staring at the ceiling fan, trying to think of any reason why Adrian would actually stay. You don't know when you fall asleep, but it's long after he does.

True to his word, he’s not in the airbnb when you wake up. Just cold sheets and an empty glass of water and a half eaten green apple on your counter. That's all to signify he was even here, that you and your best friend had a sleepover after fifteen years. No real evidence, no trophy, not even his phone number, not even a cup left in the sink for you to clean when you do the dishes. Even the marks of his nails are fading away into nothing.

You deserve that, you think, all of Adrian’s talk of hate fucking of course wasnt a joke. When had he ever not said what he meant? He’d always told you what was on his mind, no filter and often TMI. But that doesnt stop the tears that fall, the streaking of last night's mascara down your cheekbones and the messy foundation you didn't take off.

True to your words last night as well, before you even brush your teeth you order a plan b kit from Doordash. Now you wait, and wallow.

It comes quickly, you take it, you feel no different.

You lay on the couch, the bed feeling weird and wrong now that it's been used and abandoned by Adrian. It's definitely going to be a long week, you think, and you debate trying to contact the airbnb host to see if you can check out early. Maybe you can take a rental car up to that town they shot Twin Peaks in and stay at the hotel or something.

This was a mistake. All of it. You shouldn't have let Adrian kiss you, you shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have wanted him. You shouldn't still want him.

Your phone rings. Laura.

“Holy shit,” she sighs, her voice shaking, “Can I ask you the biggest favor?”

You have nothing to lose at this point, besides your comfort in the stilettos she has you wearing for the bridal party.

“Yeah, whats up?”

“I need,” her voice breaks, and you can tell it's serious.

“Whoa, what do you need? I’ll drop everything,” you interrupt and reassure her, and it's not like you had anything scheduled but self pity until the rehearsal tonight and the dinner at Fennel Fields afterwards. Laura’s not someone you've ever liked to hear or see cry, because she never does so unless she has a good reason.

“Gina’s plane got delayed,” she explains, “You remember Gina?”

You remember Gina well, Laura’s best friend since diapers, your Adrian basically. She was the maid of honor and you were basically second in command to her.

“Babe, I know Geen,” You remind her. Gina gave you your first pot brownie.

“Well her plane got delayed and she's stuck in Metropolis on her layover until the morning of the wedding and then she still might miss hair and make up but she's not here for the rehearsal dinner speech and I don't know what to do,” Laura sucks in a desperate breath, “I don't want to cancel the dinner speeches I know Dorian's best man had a plan.”

“You don't have to,” you tell her, “You made me second in command.”

“I know, I need you to write a speech if you can.”

At this point you can tell Laura is crying on the other end of the line.

“It's done. Don't worry your sexy little face about it,” you comfort her, not really thinking about what you're signing yourself up for but your undying loyalty to her taking over the rational thought in your mind.

“That doesn't make sense,” her voice is still watery, but you can hear the smile through it.

“Hang up on me and go make out with Gut,” you tell her, “Leave the amateur hour to me.”

And she does just that, whispering her thanks to you as she cuts herself off.

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

This fucking speech, your saving grace of a distraction. Fuck, fuck, fuck what do I say? You think. You wrack your brain on what to say, you practice, you write line after line in green glittery gel pen on a piece of stationary you found in the homes kitchen. You treat it like a stand up set, ‘yes and-ing’ yourself to death to try to think of something that doesn't sound stupid. You've never been in a long term relationship that was ever actually going anywhere. You're so incapable of wording what love is…

No, thats a lie you tell yourself. The words come easily now, the words flow like water from a fountain.

It's not clear how you're going to go through the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Knowing Adrian will be in the same proximity as you; Knowing that with Adrian one kiss is too many and a thousand is never enough. You want to bash your head against the wall, but instead you save your airbnb fees and focus on doing your hair and makeup and getting dressed.

You look at the dress you brought for the rehearsal, one of two garment bags hanging on the top of the closet door. Your bridesmaid dress; an olive green, low cut, with a soft flowing skirt. And then the dress for tonight, one that was already in your closet at home from your thrifting as a broke college student; navy vintage polyester taffeta, with an extremely tight square neck bodice and a tea length skirt that puffed out. You had sewn a comically big pink heart with white lace into the bottom of the bodice a week after you had gotten it. Laura came home to you sitting with fabric and thread strewn across the floor of your shared apartment. You knew this dress was a memory between you two, and that's why you picked it for tonight. Putting it on alone is a little difficult, but you manage. The only thing Laura asked out of your comfort zone was that all bridesmaids wore silver stilettos. Fucking evil, but you throw those on the passenger seat of your rental car.

You crinkle the paper with your speech in your hand as you clutch it against the steering wheel, and pull out of the driveway of the rancher.

The rehearsal goes smoothly, but that wasn't the part you were worried about. You only wrinkled part of your skirt under your sweaty hands but for the most part it was salvageable. You're walking with one of Gut’s coworkers, a nice guy named Mike who has also never been in a wedding before and he’s easy to use as a distraction from those green eyes you can't stand to feel on your skin. Laura is happy and that's what matters. That's what you tell yourself every time your smile falters.

You avoid his eyes at all costs as you enter the back room of Fennel Fields, taking your seat next to Laura’s mother, taking the Maid of Honor seat and looking at the fixed course menu after a polite hello to the woman who helped you find a Gotham apartment without remnants of fear gas in the venting. Adrian sits at the table diagonal from you now, a slight relief from the onslaught of him and everything about him. Your clammy hand reaches for the menu, passing it to the waiter nearby after clarifying that everything looked fine with no substitutions; everyone does the same and you try to keep yourself preoccupied by any means necessary to avoid that gaze.

Champagne is poured and you want to drink it down, want to take the edge off in any way possible.

But you don't. You can't. The note in your dress pocket prevents you from doing that.

Gut’s best man goes first. He gives a lovely speech, you figure. He talks about how Laura and Gut are like puzzle pieces or something and how she’s been such a light in his life. It's odd to think that Gut’s friends know so much of Laura, that she’s become one of their group. Her other bridesmaids are even Gut’s friend’s wives and girlfriends except for you and Gina and one other girl, her coworker at this new job.

You keep your eyes trained on him, and on Gut and Laura. They look so in love, so genuinely happy. Fuck, its beautiful.

“So I’ll end this trainwreck on a toast. To the lovely Bride and Groom: may they make their honeymoon flight, and not lose their luggage!”

You laugh, whispering a cheers before tapping your flute on the table and finally sipping champagne yourself.

Now it's your turn. On unsteady legs, whether from the stilettos Laura has you wearing or your emotional state, you rise from your seat and pull the grossly crumpled piece of paper from your dress pocket.

The microphone gets passed to you and you steel yourself to do your best stage face and voice. Give them senior year at Gotham University’s production of Miss Julie.

Here goes nothing.

“Hi,” you start, clear and confident, “I’m not Gina. I’m sorry, I wish I was.”

Laura’s mom and a few of the wedding party laugh. You don't look at Adrian.

“And to make matters worse, I’m not even qualified to give this speech.”

You earn another laugh, this time from more people, and Laura snorts and slams her hand down on the table. She can correctly guess how you screamed in your airbnb trying to write this, having watched you struggle through editing stand up sets for years. She knows you probably talked to yourself in the mirror to get this right.

“I’ve sabotaged my chance at love but these kids? They know what they’re doing.”

What the fuck does that next line say, you sweaty bitch? Why the fuck did you use gel pens for this?

“Before I moved into my studio in Condiment King’s territory—“ you pause for laughter and get some, “— I lived with Laura. And she was good, I guess.”

You stick your tongue out at her, winking.

“She showed me how to use a hair straightener and how to shotgun a beer, but most importantly she showed me what it looks like to actively be vulnerable and put yourself on the line for love. She faced the dating world before tinder, but she also extended that vulnerability to me. With her making soup for me when I’d had a crappy day, and calling me out when I’d done something wrong to put me back on the right path, she always loved me fully and with care. Not gentleness, though. After a frat formal she threw a glass at me once.”

The room erupted in laughter and Laura looked fake-embarrassed.

“But I have also had the privilege of knowing the groom. Dorian, or as I know him, Gut Chase, was someone I always knew would make sure I didn’t end up dead in a ditch. I was briefly a cheerleader, he was in football and a few years older, but I had someone close to him that I held dearly and he kept that in mind. I don’t think he liked me much when we were growing up, but he always made sure I had a ride home and a place to stay. I wasn’t allowed to speak to him in public but I wasn’t going to get hurt around him.”

The room laughed again, although you only focus on the smile of one of the groomsmen who doesn't meet your gaze. You crumple the paper further because you can’t even read it at this point and you don’t remember what it said.

“The point is, I don't need to have some love story of my own to know what care and love look like when it comes to these two. I know I could have had something like this and I'm endlessly jealous of my prettier college roommate. And judging from last night and today I’ve never seen such explicit love between two people, the way they orbit each other and care for the people in their lives. They've found someone who is not only going to be there at night for them when things are fun, but they've found someone who’s going to be there in the morning. And someone they're going to be there in the morning for. Someone that's going to take care of the good and the bad and someone that they're going to show up for in that way, too. It’s fucking beautiful. I’m sorry for cursing. Let’s get hammered.”

You knock back your champagne and remind yourself to call an uber and leave your rental here. Maybe it's heavy handed that you mentioned the morning. But really, had you stayed that morning with Adrian you would have never left. You would have thrown away college had he kissed you again the morning after. People cheer and you scurry to get away from the spotlight, people start to stand from where they were and waiters start to clear plates and people begin to go to the bar. You're one of the first.

You order another glass of champagne. Had Adrian asked, you would have stayed. You know that. You've always known that, and that's exactly why you had to leave before he woke up. Fate is cruel, bringing you back here.

“Baaabe!” Laura shouts, Gut in tow, and throws her arms around you.

You hug her back with the arm not holding your glass.

“That was amazing,” she says, and you can only scoff, not willing to take the praise.

“You did good, Runt,” Gut offers, patting your shoulder with a fond smile on his face. Maybe people can change.

“Thanks guys,” you sigh, and try to gulp down this next glass as well.

“Who were you talking about?” Laura asks.

You choke on your sip.

“Who?”

“In the speech, you said you blew it with someone, who was it?”

Gut’s grip on your shoulder gets a little tighter.

“Do you want a tequila shot?” you deflect, and never one to turn down a challenge, she accepts.

You shoot Gut a thankful glance, although he actually didn't do anything.

The next morning you wake up to your alarm with the slightest headache, two full glasses of water and a bottle of advil on your bedside table that you don't remember placing there but you also don't expect to with all the champagne and tequila going to your head.

It's still forty five minutes before you have to be at the wedding venue but you shower in under ten minutes and call an uber (thankful for your foresight to leave your car last night) the second you're dry. It's a good thing the ride is quick to the venue and they dont mind that you've thrown your bridesmaid dress and shoes and an additional backpack across the back seat. The uber driver is far too loud and friendly for this hour, your headache starting to get stronger even though you took the advil.

Laura’s already there and panicking, her lashes done and her immediately screaming at you to get into the hair chair even though it's technically not correct on her schedule. Janessa should be going first but you don't question a bride thats near tears. You hop in and close your eyes, and combing or prodding is fine with you, as long as you don't have to be standing.

By the time your hair is done other bridesmaids trickle in, and by the time everyone is done Gina finally is able to make an appearance and you all breathe a sigh of relief at Laura’s worry finally dissolved. You all look nice. Laura looks like a princess. You're not sure if you can get through this wedding without crying like a baby now that you see her all done up. Fuck. She ushers you all out as she stays behind, a smile that finally looks genuine plastered on her face, ready for her first looks with her new husband before the rest of the world gets to see her.

“Thank you,” she whispers one last time to you, and you squeeze her hand before you leave the bridal suite to go line up in preparation for the actual wedding itself.

“— You moron!”

You catch the end of whatever Gut is whisper-shouting at Adrian in the lobby, handsome in his suit and anxiety painted on his face and seeping from his gritted and bared teeth.

You walk the rest of the way over after getting down the rest of the stairs, skirt of your dress fluttering as you move, and put your hand on Gut’s arm not unlike the way he did to you last night.

“Hey, whatever's going on, I got it,” you tell him, not looking Adrian’s way still in fear of your own emotional state. You aren't sure why you offered to help at all, but there's no backing out now.

“He wants to switch partners to walk with you, which is stupid and not part of the plan,” Gut explains. What the fuck. Actually what the fuck.

You shake your head, and you bury the pit in your stomach. Your emotions aren't the most important ones today and others are at stake. Fuck it, you’ll take one for the team and maybe cry in the bathroom later and blame it on the alcohol, as long as it doesn't stop you from the cotton eyed joe at the reception.

“Let us switch, your bride is upstairs waiting, we’ll handle shit down here,” you tell him, voice already exasperated, and that seems to light a fire under his ass. He moves to the staircase without another warning and salutes towards you and his little brother.

His little brother whom you still cannot look in the eye.

The rest of the bridal party starts to get themselves together at the disappearance of the groom, and you sort yourself in order. Shoes are good, hair is good, dress is good, you are good to go; and once youre over this hiccup you can party with Laura and the other bridesmaids.

“Look, I’m sorry-” Adrian starts as you link your arm in his own. He looks so fucking good in the suit, so good you need him to shut up before the last of your dignity leaves you.

“Don't even worry about it,” you say, still not looking at him, “We’re even, remember?”

Adrian seems to deflate at your words, but if you know Adrian you know that doesn't mean he’s given up.

“I’m just saying, you didn't deserve that. I should have stayed.”

You eye up Gina in front of you, her long hair cascading down her back, happily joking with the best man. Mike’s now behind you, with Laura’s work friend. Adrian’s arm feels like a cage around you.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, trying to focus on how it feels to be hungover in stilettos. Bad, but you can use that pain as a distraction.

“See, you say that,” you're in for an Adrian rant, and you wish you could appreciate it, “But you won't look at me, and then your speech last night had me thinking, and then you didn't let me talk to you about it after you drank a lot of tequila with my brother and even though I drove you home you wouldnt let me make sure you drank your water.”

He looks at you with expectant eyes, asking you to crack.

He says it so easily, as if his mini rant doesnt throw a spear through the heart of your barely calm and cool persona. As if your blood doesn't run cold knowing Adrian was in the airbnb again, only to care for you and look out for your safety. Adrian is a good guy, and as your pinky toe pinches in the straps of the stiletto while you rock away from him, you regret never calling most of all. Your eyes search his face for an hint of a lie, but you can't find one. So you do what you can, you look away from him.

“I drank the water,” is all you can say, the tip of the iceberg of what you really mean. His free hand squeezes your elbow, an exchange.

The opening chords of the organist strike, and you recoil at the sound, sighing deeply as everyone readies themselves.

Gina is all you want to focus on, her two braids tied into the curls the stylist sweat over in a half up-do that would rival what the wig makers on Game of Thrones could do.

“But anyways, I’m trying to apologize.”

You can't even find a bobby pin sticking out on her whole head.

“I don't want an apology.”

You want to run away again. You want to fuck him in the bathroom of this venue. You want to fight him to the death. You want to stain his clean shaven cheek with your lipstick.

“Then what do you want? You're torturing me, and I would know, I’ve been tortured. This is like emotional though, not physical.”

Ignore whatever that means.

“I want to know what you would have done if you didn't leave.”

Fuck, why did you say that? Quick, think about escape routes, find fire exits. Run for Mount Rainier, burn down the airbnb. Goodbye!

“Well, not fucking leave,” he starts, lowering his voice to a whisper when the doors open to reveal all of the guests.

You just tilt your head, yeah, figures.

“You like everything bagels with chive and onion cream cheese, and I would have gotten you one. They make your breath smell like shit but I would have kissed you anyway just to prove a point.”

That's basically a confession of love right there.

You and Adrian walk down the aisle, a smile tugging at your lips, but you refuse to let it stick. The venue is beautiful, sage green and pink everywhere, a flower arch out of some perfume commercial and trendy reclaimed wood galore.

“Can we just talk?” he asks, his voice rising and you immediately try to shush him as discreetly as you can.

“Save a dance for me at the reception,” you whisper to him, preparing yourself to take your place in the line up at the altar.

“But I wanted to talk-”

You shush him again, a little harsher than you mean to, but he seems to get the idea.

“Oh! duh— I didn't bring a date! I don’t have a dance partner to begin with,” he answers, and the smile you’ve been trying to hide breaks through. You squeeze his arm as you leave his embrace and go to stand on your side.

You look out at the crowd, a lot of them unfamiliar faces. A few friends from Laura’s major and their partners, a few cousins and kids you met when you went to her summer house, a few of Gut’s friends on the other side (save for Chris Smith, thank fucking god, you would absolutely not be surviving this if you had to hear him say anything about your tits) and Gut’s cousins from Northern California. You stop for a moment on two empty chairs, for Gut and Adrian’s parents. Suddenly you're sixteen again, watching Adrian push you away for the comfort of shooting ranges instead of talking about his own parents' deaths as a result of a car chase gone wrong. Your eye’s flicker to Adrian, his eyes already set straight on you, his smile not matching how his eyes scan you. Gut enters and practically power walks down the aisle, and you mote that theres already a noticeable amount of lipstick on the corner of his lips.

The music changes.

The most beautiful woman you've ever seen walks down the aisle.

You can feel Adrian’s eyes on you the entire ceremony.

Adrian doesn't leave your side the entire cocktail hour, following you around and asking about all of your drink and snack preferences.

“I like pomegranate martinis, you know, a little Hades and Persephone thing going on?” You joke, and he orders you one from the drink station without a second glance.

“You mean like Hercules, the Disney movie?” he asks when he hands you your glass, hand steady and careful not to spill it.

You could scoff, or make a joke, or correct him, but instead you just smile and say, “Yeah, Adrian!” just to see his smile get even wider.

“Thats a really good movie, even if its for kids,” he muses.

“So what does Adrian Chase drink?”

He pauses and thinks it over for a minute.

“Yeungling,” he says, but he doesn't try to hide his grimace at the answer, his teeth bared and his eyes averted.

“So thats a lie,” you point out immediately over the rim of your glass. Adrian’s eyes dart over to where Laura and his brother are talking to some distant relative, definitely from Laura’s side. They're both the happiest you've ever seen them and you can’t help but to thank whatever cosmic power led them to meet.

“Yeah, Gut says a bay breeze is chick stuff,” Adrian admits, and you figured this was the case. He was always pulling you down candy aisles or getting the really sweet stuff as far as slurpee flavors went.

“Get the fucking bay breeze,” you tell him, and his whole face lights up. When was the last time this man got himself a girlie tropical drink?

“Okay! I mean, I've gotta hide it, but if you won’t judge me then I’ll do it,” he turns away from you, already ready to get the bartender’s attention again to order.

Theres a million things you want to say and all you can come up with is talking about his drinking habits? You only know where the guy works because you asked one of his cousins why the rehearsal dinner was at Fennell Fields and she told you he basically was allowed to book the back room for free because he worked there. You have so many things to ask him, so many things to say, and you ask him about a fucking drink.

“You were right, this is way better. You said we could talk now?” he asks, not hiding his eagerness as he talks with the bendy straw still between his teeth.

You exhale harshly, pushing the air through your nose, nodding.

“Yeah,” you mumble, not wanting to correct him that the cocktail hour technically isnt the reception. Thats an easy mistake to make, its close enough.

He nods his head towards the back doors, leading out to the gardens that a few people are at, but its much less crowded than the venue proper. At least hes giving you that safety net.

Each step feels heavier, and you once again curse the fact that Laura is a stilettos girl and made you be the same for a weekend. But the garden is beautiful, it looks like a small town in Washington’s version of the Versailles gardens, which you've never seen outside of Google images so it doesn't matter to miss out on the real thing.

He leads you to a bench, and pats it as he sits down on one end. You sweep the flow skirt under you and sit too, thankful to be off your feet after the past few hours.

"You can take those off if you want," he points his glass at your heels, "We can swap? They don't look comfy."

"We can't swap," you chuckle, but you unbuckle the heels and stretch your feet on the pavement.

“Well, we should talk,” he says, as if prompting you. The whole situation feels like there’s some kind of teleprompter you should be able to read, some magical thing to say, but there’s not. You don’t have words, just feelings. The anxiety, the joy, the ecstasy, the profound sadness and emptiness of the whole thing. There’s no way to put it into words. You don’t know how to word that you’ve forgotten him for maybe only ten of the months you’ve been away. Often wondering with other dates if Adrian was nicer than them, if he was dating. Wondering if Adrian was having a good life, if Adrian made friends. Seldom you forgot about him. And none of it you can voice without sounding worse than you already are.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down into your martini, the last few sips staring back at you.

“You’ve said that already. Can I talk?” he asks. You nod, still not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Like I said before, you didn't deserve that.”

“I kinda did,” you offer, shrugging.

“Will you stop?” he asks, his eyes widening behind his glasses. You only grimace and nod for him to continue.

“Sorry, anyway, you didn't deserve that. I know you had to have a good reason for leaving without saying anything. And I have to admit, I have kept tabs on you. Not in a creepy way,” he pauses, “Maybe in a creepy way, but not in an illegal way. When the library put up the article about your job in Gotham I took it because that's not real stealing, everything is free in the library.”

That's not how libraries work. You remember that article, you were put on a 30 under 30 article for art and design in Gotham; you just didn't know the article made its way back to Evergreen. It's sweet that he stole the article, even though he could have just bought a copy of the magazine.

You nod at him, needing him to continue.

“And then when I saw you it all just kinda, came up, you know?”

You do know. Its that same vacuum that sucked air from your lungs and slowed the time down in that fucking Hooters that now feels so much more meaningful and cosmic instead of being what it is. God, what a place for a reunion.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, your voice just above a whisper.

“I didn’t want to be mean, but I felt like I had to, I don’t know why.”

But you know why, you know exactly why.

“No it’s fine, I would have done the same,” you say, the knuckle of your free hand brushing the soft material of his suit pants.

“Yeah. I know,” he laughs, his smile overtaking all of his features. This feels normal, finally. You’re on the same wavelength.

“And I have to admit, I was a little jealous of Laura for taking my best friend position once I heard about you guys in college.”

You roll your eyes, letting yourself lean into him, his shoulder warm under his shirt. His arms look fucking good, with the crisp white

“Where’d your suit jacket go?” you ask, lowering your head to rest it against him.

“Gut’s gonna kill me,” he answers, and you can pretty much assume he’s lost it.

Laughter escapes your lips, loud and almost cackling, and you sit back up so as to not spill your drink as the laughter keeps coming. Adrian joins in, his eyes closed behind those glasses that haven't changed in the past fifteen years, laughter boisterous and light.

“Can we start over?” you interrupt your own laughter, setting your glass down on the ground next to the bench.

Adrian’s laughter subsides, and he goes quiet. He thinks about it for a second.

“Hmm, no,” he answers. Your hands fall limp in your lap, the skirt of your dress making a light swooshing noise at the contact. He could have punched you just now and it would have been less of a surprise to you.

“Oh,” you sigh, trying and failing to play it cool. Your shoulders feel heavy.

“I can’t start over with someone who’s seen my penis… or wore my retainer when she lost hers. Which was really gross,” he laughs, this time a subdued chuckle with a hint of nostalgia, and his eyes travel up and down your body again. You shiver under his gaze.

“Yeah, that was nasty,” you admit, but your teeth are straight no matter what.

You both go quiet, staring out at the treeline behind the venue. A cosmic reset. His hand scoots closer to you on the seat of the bench. The wind whistles and Party Rock Anthem is muffled and obscured by the glass doors leading back into the cocktail hour.

“So your brother and my college roommate, huh?” you break the stillness.

“Yeah, it's uh,” he looks down at his watch, “almost the end of cocktail hour. We get to walk in together, right?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “You made sure of that with the stunt you pulled this morning.”

If he's at all embarrassed, he doesn't show it.

You stand up, rolling your eyes.

“C’mon,” you say, holding your hand out to him.

A cosmic restart.

“And here is your wedding party!” the DJ announces over the microphone. The first couple dances out from under the sting light arch, offbeat and singing along. Then the second. After the third it's you and Adrian, and you can feel him starting to get antsy.

“We’ll be fine,” you reassure him, brushing your knuckles against his.

“Don’t hate me for this,” he whisper-shouts over the music.

You don't have time to even think about what that means because the couple in front of you dances out, but now you're anxious and rigid in your heels. You step into the spotlight, and your cue comes.

But Adrian has other plans, apparently, as he bends down to let his big strong arms (wow are you happy he grew these in your absence) circle your thighs and he hoists you over his shoulder.

You wave awkwardly at all the guests sat for dinner, cackling and slapping Adrian’s back to the beat of the music, Adrians laugh filling your space as he awkwardly dance- walks you across the dance floor to where the other wedding party members are standing and talking, waiting for dinner and the reception to officially begin. You feel giddy, like a late night drive in the summer after Adrian got his license, like when you walked into prom holding Adrian’s hand like you’d just won the lottery. His hands are warm, incredibly so, and his muscles are taut against you.

Fuck, you’d like to feel his muscles against you in - nope, hold that thought. You want to repair whatever this is with Adrian, not be a slut at your friend’s wedding.

When you finally reach your spot, he holds you there for a few moments, his big hands squeezing the backs of your thighs before he puts you down gently. You miss the feeling of his hands on you.

Dinner and more speeches go off wonderfully, and you're thankful you get to stay quiet this time, few eyes on you throughout all of the formal stuff, except for Laura. Sure, her main focus are the speakers and her new husband, but you've caught more than one sneaky glance your way, and you know exactly what that means. Before they leave for their honeymoon in Cabo, she's going to corner you and ask if you and her new brother-in-law are doing anything. And knowing her, she’ll already know the answer.

Adrian nudges you when the plates are cleared by the caterers during the first dance, drawing your eyes away from the happy couple dancing to him, apprehension apparent on his face. You realize that you really haven't spoken to him since he put you down.

“Do you want to… maybe, go out there when they’re done being a lovely couple?” he asks.

“I mean, yeah. I told you to save me a dance,” you respond, and Adrian’s shoulders visibly sag in relief like a weight has just been taken off of them.

And you're lucky enough that your anxiousness is spared that the next two songs and the family dances go by as quickly as they can, and the dancefloor opens for everyone with Vienna by Billy Joel. You look over to Adrian, winking as you rise from your seat, your hand reaching out to lead him away from the table.

He, to your surprise, grabs your hand firmly and lets you lead him out, and you become one of the first couples out on the dance floor. People trickle in after, but they're all peripheral noise and shapes as Adrian’s hands find purchase on your hips.

“I’m glad you're here without a date,” Adrian admits, without a hint of shame in his voice.

“I’m glad you're here without a date too, or else this whole weekend would have been a lot more complicated than it already has been,” you offer honestly, and lean into his swaying. Your fingers play with the curls at the base of his neck absentmindedly.

“It wasn't that complicated,” he says, “We’re just bad at feelings.”

Understatement of the century, you think, but yeah, that checks out. You'd both had hurt feelings and both been weird about it. He hums along as he pulls you closer, your chests almost touching, the heat tangible between you. It's going to be hard to keep your cool around Adrian all night without wanting to be even closer, without wanting to kiss him. Maybe you can kiss him afterward.

“Did you become a Billy Joel fan while I was gone?” you joke, knowing that his taste was a lot more girl pop or harder rock when you last saw him.

“Billy Joel? I thought this was Bruno Mars!”

You want to ask him if he's joking but you already know the answer to that.

“Yeah, I mean they're easy to mix up,” you say, and he nods.

“I really missed you, Adrian,” you finally admit, “I wish I-”

“I wish that you would just let it go, troll under the bridge. Lets have fun before you have to leave again,” he interrupts.

“Well actually,” you readjust your arms, more of a hug than a dance now, “I’m here until next Monday, and I want to give you my number so we can keep in touch. Laura lives here now so…”

“So you have a reason to come out here?” he asks, hopeful.

“You’re a reason to come out here too, if you want to be,” you assure him, and his fingers dig into your hips, the material of the skirt bunching under his palms.

“Really? I do, I want to be-”

Fuck it, you think. Be a slut, do what you want.

You pull Adrian into a kiss, cutting him off mid sentence. He hums, the death of a word coming to die from his lips to yours, and his form melts around yours, his grasp on you growing firmer pressing you against him

“I knew it!” you hear Laura scream, “I fucking knew it!”

But you don't dare pull away from Adrian to laugh with the bride. He keeps swaying, off tempo to the song, but perfect for you. His lips curl up into a smile and his own laughter breaks the kiss, though.

“Do you want to go have sex again?” he asks bluntly, slightly breathless from his own laughter.

Unlike the other night, you're pushing him down onto the mattress tonight, Adrian eagerly shuffling further up onto the bed as you hike up your skirt to climb on top of him. You stop when you're over his hips, letting the skirt pool around him, your flimsy underwear leaving you feeling bare and hot against Adrian’s pants.

You pull him up by his tie, your mouths meeting in the space between you for another sloppy kiss, open-mouthed and wet. You both fall back into the sheets, kissing as your hands move to the knot of the tie. You fiddle with the knot, pulling it one way, then the other, trying to loosen it without breaking the kiss to look at it.

Cmon, cmon.

You feel it tighten against his collar instead of loosen. You have to pull away.

Adrian’s lips chase yours, not opening his eyes until he hears you speak.

“Get rid of the tie, I can't do it!” you demand, your hands instead starting to work at buttons lower down on his chest. He laughs, but his hands leave your body to pull the tie loose, and he does it easily. He slips the stupid thing off of his neck and flings it into the dimness of the room. You're free to unbutton all of his shirt now, pulling at where it's tucked into his pants to get it off of him.

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you think, as you finally get to take in his bare chest. He's got muscle, he's buff, with the lightest dusting of hair between his pectorals and light freckles that you remember.

You pull him back up to sit so he can remove his shirt and you find that to be the wrong move. As he sits up, his hips shift against your core, and you struggle to bite back a needy moan.

“Am I bothering you?” he asks.

“Nope,” you shake your head, biting down on your lip at the friction.

“No? Then you wouldn't mind if I…” he trails off, tilting his hips up into yours again. This time, you feel him rock hard against you, and you whine desperately. Fucking bastard. Adrian chuckles, and you decide to get your revenge.

You push him back down on the mattress the moment the offending shirt is shed, latching your lips onto the expanse of his neck, kissing a wet trail in your wake as he gasps and grunts below you.

“I was so mean to you,” he gasps as you bite at his collarbone, “Do you want to punish me for that?”

Who the fuck is Adrian fucking? Is the first thought through your head. Punish him? What kind of kinky shit does he get up to?

“Don’t wanna punish you,” you dismiss, “Just wanna have you.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, his lips dragging against your hairline as he pulls you lower on top of him until your chests meet, “Still on the table, though.”

You'll keep that in mind.

“Get this dress off,” he groans, equally struggling with the zipper until he finally just rips the hook and eye at the top of it, the zip sliding down your back easily for him after that. You’re definitely going to have to get that repaired, but that’s the last thing on your mind when Adrian is pulling the material off of you half crazed, trying to have you bare against him as soon as he can. He pulls the dress up over your head, maybe not the easiest way to discard it, your arms struggling to untangle from the straps as he unwraps you. You help him push all of the bunched up material across your chest and over you, finally breathing a sigh of relief when the bodice finally comes off of you and you can both drop the dress off the edge of the bed, and his hands immediately working their way to your chest.

His thumb brushes against the faded mark on your breast that he left the other night, sending a shiver down your spine. You're sure he's about to leave even more.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he moans, squeezing at you while his eyes take you in. You’re glad now that you opted for the ‘sexier’ of the no-show underwear you picked out under the dress.

“Thought you said women don’t like being called hot,” you joke, recalling his previous words.

“Right, pretty,” he corrects himself, and you have to shake your head.

“I’m fucking with you,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he retorts, and quickly flips you over, pinning you underneath him.

“So so pretty like this,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your body, stoking the fires of your arousal.

You’ll keep that in mind, too.

You grab at the sheets, balling the cotton in your fists as Adrian’s hands finally make their way between your thighs. He presses his fingers to your clothed cunt, and you both sigh at the contact.

“Please touch me,” you beg, all the boldness gone from your tone now that he’s got you like this.

“I’ll do you one better!” he says, and moves himself down the bed, removing his hand only so he can remove your panties.

“Can I taste you?” he asks, repositioning you for his own easy access. You nod, tilting your hips up towards him. He puts your legs on his shoulders, and slowly creeps in.

His hot breath fans out over your cunt, his glasses fogging as he looks up at you, the way his cheeks and nose scrunch lets you know that he’s grinning like a maniac.

Without warning, he darts his tongue out, licking between your folds and only stopping when the tip of his tongue meets your clit.

You whine, needy and unexpected, and try to quiet yourself again. You feel him as he exhales through his nose, maybe laughing at your desperation, and moves his tongue; small, deliberate licks against your clit that have you hitching your breath with each one.

“Please,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the sheets so tight you could rip them. Adrian dives in like a man starved, his tongue dipping into you and the tip of his nose bumping against your clit. He licks into you like your cunt is what keeps him alive, like the water of life. You moan, languid and loud; his big hands flatten out, one against your stomach and the other along the underside of your breast.

Where the fuck did Adrian Chase learn this? Maybe you don't want to know, maybe you just want to enjoy the skills for what they are. His lips move in tandem with his tongue, not hiding the slurping sounds his mouth makes; fuck, he worships you.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, at first a slow bubble, and then a sudden boil. Your moans turn almost to screams as you shake under him, your thighs tightening around his head.

Adrian’s having none of that, though. He removes his hands from you, moving them to your thighs to hold them in place. Without the leverage of your legs, your back arches almost painfully, leaning into your orgasm as it shakes your entire system, Adrian just happily working you through it, gradually slowing down his mouths movements as your breathing becomes more and more regulated.

“Good?” he asks, when he finally moves his mouth away from you. Everything from his nose to his chin is soaked in you.

“Y-yeah,” you pant, still catching yourself.

“Good, then you’re ready for me,” he says, smirking as he untangles from your thighs and moves back up. He kisses your cheek, decidedly not letting you taste yourself at this moment. Somehow, in your haze, you hadn't noticed that he’d gotten rid of his pants.

You already feel him, heavy and hard, resting against your entrance, and immediately you need more no matter how sensitive you might be.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell him, and he chuckles.

“Not for this,” and he pushes in to the hilt. He gives you no mercy, like he said he wouldn't. He gives you no time to adjust to his size. You yelp, both in surprise and in pleasure, and he picks up his pace as if your noise was permission.

“Fuck, prettiest girl I’ve ever known, all laid out for me, all for me,” he babbles, his lips just barely brushing yours as he stays close.

“All for you,” your voice comes out in a moan, all control of your volume and tone lost; the fire already building in you again.

“Gonna give you everything, all for you,” he says, like a promise, his own voice strained.

He doesn't hold back in his pace, pushing in all the way each time, deep and hard, a slamming pace. He's not gentle, but the way that he looks at you is full of all of the affection and sweetness he holds for you. This is your best friend. This is… whatever he is beyond that.

“Adrian, kiss me,” you beg, wanting to seal yourself to him, to connect.

“But I might taste-”

“I don’t care.”

That's all he has to hear, and once the kisses start, they don't stop. He moves a little awkwardly at first, his pace faltering slightly to adjust for this connection, but he finds his rhythm again. He thrusts sharply, your hips moving to meet him as best you can, your bodies moving in sync with your pleasure. He quickens his pace, his kisses getting harsher, more bruising. Adrian is a kisser, you realize. He likes it like this.

“I’m gonna—,” he gasps after his harshest thrust yet, and you grab his hips, holding him close.

“Go ahead,” you say, breathless yourself and ready to lose your own composure.

He pumps into you harder, his hips snapping against you sure to bruise. Adrian’s hand leaves your hip to move his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles that choke out sobs from your throat. It's hard to hold on, both physically to his hips but also to your composure. Every thought of him, him, him, and the fire inside of you that fights to escape.

“Adrian, please,” you beg, voice watery and desperate, and he obeys, speeding up his movements until you scream, and shake, and lose everything. Your mind whites-out. No thoughts but the specific shade of green of his eyes.

And when you come back you feel full, sticky and hot. Adrian holds you tightly, still inside you, snuggling you close and cradling your body to him. He's shushing you and pressing kisses into your skin, muttering sweet nothings to soothe you. Fuck, thats never happened before.

“That was good?” you ask, breathless laughter in your tone.

“Now I know you have to be joking with me,” he says, pulling back slightly, “That was mind-blowing! Literally.”

He pulls away more, and you reach out to reel him back into your embrace. Adrian reassures you he’ll be right back. Even after all of this, the tiniest doubt creeps in, and when he backs out of the room, boxers in hand, you pull the sheets up over you tightly.

He comes back into the room with two glasses of water in only his boxers, a sight you want to get used to. He places the glasses down on the nightstand and throws the covers over the both of you, enveloping you in their warmth and his. Adrian runs like a furnace.

“Can you stay this time?” Your voice is small, vulnerable. Adrian’s warm hand cups your cheek, and he shimmies closer to you under the covers.

“How much does a flight to Gotham cost?” he asks, deadly serious.

You balk at his question.

“Adrian, you can't uproot your life for me,” you insist, feeling bad suddenly about the way you continue to cling to him, hands pressed into his back to hold him to you.

“Psh, who said that? I figure maybe Evergreen can survive without me for a week or so. I wanna take you on a real date,” he snuggles closer, curling the blankets further over you. Your own little world, a little bubble just for the two of you.

You’ll remind him that Gotham is currently surviving a week without you, too, in the morning.

“I’d like that,” you say, sleep sinking into the edges of your voice.

“Get some rest,” he says, sounding just as sleepy, his head feeling heavier against you, “I’ll be here in the morning.”

He is.

#adrian chase x reader

279 notes · View notes

vacayisland · 5 months

Text

@!; Together. (That's all we need) Trollex / reader . . . art/writing trade with @greaser-wolf

"Tag list"! @storydays @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq @apieceofcathair3 @kitthefanfickat @cyb3r-st4r @esterphobic @nevaeh-jasso

ꨄ︎. You honestly wonder how you got here sometimes. It was an odd situation, on the way on how all the stars aligned to create a perfect path for you and Trollex. For as long as you could remember you were friends with him, and later Synth. For as long as you two remember it was a 'us against the world' type of friendship, where you all did the stupidest things together and managed to get away with it (most of the time). You remembered those days all too well, where you three would play at the edge of the reef and race to see who could get to the center first. Where you guys would ponder on ways to get that ever so special dessert of the Techno tribe, not even being able to name it yet. Where life was fun and exciting, a lot less working and a lot less everything in your face.

ꨄ︎. And sure, life is still like that, but everything seemed to turn upon it's head a few years ago; well, five years ago to be exact, when Trollex first told you that he loved you. Then two years later when you guys got married. You never had expected to become a ruler of the Techno Trolls, as you always knew the 'crown' would go to Trollex (by blood).

ꨄ︎. And adjusting to a new life was always hard, especially when it meant into the life of royalty, yet you both managed to stick through it together. Trollex showed you to ropes, explained some costumes, and walked you through everything. He still does, even after all these years,, and that's what makes you hesitant. You both have finally settled down, the reef is in such a serine state of calm (even after sending ambassadors over to the Pop Troll Village) that you didn't want to disturb the waters. No, no it was too soon for that to happen, way too soon!

ꨄ︎. But then again, Trollex deserved to know what was happening! You've both faced everything and anything together so keeping him out of the dark would be a first and probably will educe more anxiety than what you were feeling right now!

ꨄ︎. But waiting a little bit couldn't hurt, right? The thought echoed in your mind as you stared at yourself through a mirror, your eyebrows frowning as you noticed one of the two eggs peaking out from your hair. You would reach up and attempted to cover the egg again, a million thoughts racing through your mind. This would be the hardest part, to tell Trollex about his eggs. How do you even tell your husband about such a thing? Sure, you've been dreaming about this since a year into your relationship with him, yet the moment has come at one of weirdest times that it made you feel a little sick. Surely, Trollex would want kids- his kids! You've seen the way he's acted around the younger Techno Trolls, always so caring and goofy, it's what made you want to have kids in the first place. But-

ꨄ︎. But, but, but, but, BUT! Ugh that stupid word is ringing in your head too much lately, like it always does. It's what Synth liked to call my irrational word, as irrational thoughts always steamed from the word 'but'.

ꨄ︎. Irrational thoughts that were proven irrational time and time again... So I shouldn't listen to those thoughts! At least, that's what Synth would say and Synth is not here right now so I have to just think Synth to be able to have some sort of support. Just thing W.W.S.D.: What Would Synth Do? Which, in hindsight is really bad for most situations because the answer would be rave-

ꨄ︎. A RAVE!

ꨄ︎. Trollex will be DJing at a rave later today and had asked you to be his plus one, which wasn't surprising seeing as you are his wife (but a little goofy upon thinking how there's really no Techno Troll not invited to a rave; But you got a cute date with you husband so he could ask you, so that's a win). But, besides that, maybe you could tell Trollex during the rave? It would be the most low pressure situation, if you forget there are countless of eyes on you both up by the turn tables, but Trollex will be in a good mood. So telling him shouldn't be that stressful?

ꨄ︎. But you could ruin the rave by telling him there; Such as what if he doesn't want the kid and then completely stops in his DJing to stare at you in shock? Then what if he recoils back and slams into the turn tables, causing records to scratch and...

ꨄ︎. Maybe you should go see a therapist... but not now. Right now you had to figure out how to tell your Husband about the eggs that are literally growing in your hair!

ꨄ︎. Ha, no pressure!.. right?

ꨄ︎. Maybe you could have tried harder to tell Trollex about his children during the rave, or maybe you could have done better in masking your nerves during the whole party. You hadn't noticed how badly this was all getting to you despite the countless of Trolls who came up to you, asking if you were alright. One of those Trolls being your husband! He seemed extra worried about your sour attituded during the rave, noticing how you sat off to the side with a scrunched face. He knew that face, he knew it all too well; It was your pensive face, the face you only scrunch when you're in deep contemplation about something. And it worried him to see that you weren't partying like you usually were, as raves usually got you out of your pensive moods. It's what he usually did to help you shake out all the bad feelings, even if you two were at home and all you did was play music and dance around together. So if music wasn't helping than something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

ꨄ︎. And as your husband, Trollex was determined to figure out what it was to be able to help you! With having to pry it out of you.

ꨄ︎. "Alright alright!" Trollex's voice over took the blaring music as he turned it down, purposefully so he could be heard. The Techno Trolls on the floor would turn and face him, if they weren't already, confused on what was happening. The rave had just started! No way it was already over. But Trollex continued, "Don't worry, I'm just passin' off the booth to a good friend of mine and you guys can get right back to partying. I just wanted to introduce DJ Cupcake!" Trollex exclaimed, gesturing to one of his closest friends (out side of Synth and You) as they sawm up to the turn tables. He would nod, giving them a fist bump, before turning back to the Trolls. It wasn't common for Trollex to part from a rave, though it wasn't exactly uncommon either. So while there was questioning looks, no one bothered to ask Trollex about his sudden departure. They just hoped he would be alright. Funny, considering how he was hoping you were alright.

ꨄ︎. "Trollex, you didn't have to leave the rave because of me!" You would pull your wrists away from Trollex's hands as you two got home, causing him to whip around, startled. You hadn't realized the edge in your tone, nor how loud you had shouted at him so he would take a moment and stop! You didn't mean to, but you needed him to listen. "Starfish-" Trollex would start, hands drawing close to himself as he tried to formulate his words. "I was just worried, you seemed..." "You better not say moody, Trollex!" You snapped crossing your arms as you felt your body become rather on edge. Your brain was on edge. Trollex didn't know but during his rush to get you to your home, in privacy to talk, he had almost knocked out one of the eggs from his hair. Granted, you shouldn't be mad at him for that, seeing as he didn't know they even existed yet. But you couldn't help it! To think Trollex could be so reckless with young lives, it made you bitter despite your reasonable thoughts. "No, no! I wasn't going to say that at all... you just seemed pensive! Like in a seriously deep train of thought and we both know that's usually not good." Trollex backtracked, trying to save himself from your accusation. His face would scrunch a little, noticing how you shot daggers at him and how stiff your body was before you exhaled, allowing it to relax.

ꨄ︎. This only made Trollex alarmed, as he's never seen you like this before. Sure, he's seen you when you were pensive, in deep spiraling thought, but not when like this. This? This was something different.

ꨄ︎. But that didn't make you any less you and he wasn't going to run away from this problem because you were acting differently than what he was used to. Something was wrong, he had to be the husband you needed him to be right now; You needed a shoulder to lean on. And that's what he's going to give you!

ꨄ︎. Gently, as to not startle you or cause you to tense up again, Trollex would reach out and place his hands on your shoulders. He made sure you were comfortable with his touch first, then he slowly guided the two of you to sit on the floor. He didn't want to move to the couch or your shared bedroom, just encase. He needed to be gentle with you right now. "Hey, love, is... everything okay?" He would asked, being weary of his tone; He tried to keep it was soothing and gentle as possible, watching your body language for anything he could pick up on. Anything that would give him a hint as to what you're thinking. No matter how long it took, he would sit here with you until everything was okay again. You were his world, as he knew he was yours, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to make you feel better. As he expected, though, he didn't receive an answer straight away. And he was okay with that. He was glad you trusted him enough to lean your head against his shoulder and allow him to wrap his arms around your waist, silently comforting you through touch. That was something cheesy to be thankful for, especially after three years of marriage, but he was. It gave him some reassurance.

ꨄ︎. You two would sit on that floor, cuddled up in each other's arms, for what felt like (and what was) hours until you would tell Trollex what was bothering you. But Trollex didn't mind. His eyes would glance back at you upon hearing your small sigh, a relieving sound to his ears (as he knew you've come to terms with opening up with him). Trollex would softly rub your back, comfortingly drawing circles, as a silent encouragement. He watched as you chewed over how you were going to formulate your words for a few minutes before he heard your voice. "Trollex.. I have something to tell you." You would mumble out.

ꨄ︎. And he wasn't going to lie, that one sentence made his heart both flip and drop at the same time.

ꨄ︎. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" Though Trollex wouldn't tell you that, knowing you already had a lot on your plate. You would probably know later, anyways, when you two look back at this and laugh at it. "I kind of know I should have told you as soon as I found out," You would start, not helping with Trollex's nerves. He felt as you would squeeze your arms around his chest, and he would do the same in turn to your waist. "But I didn't want to ruin anything, with the reef suddenly being so calm after the Rock trolls attacked and Trollstopia starting and..." Your voice would trail off, to which Trollex would pick up, "Hey, hey.. you know it never matters what is happening out in the reef, yeah? Sure, Yeah, I'm their leader but that doesn't mean you're my second priority, Starfish. I'm here for you, okay?" You would nod your head against Trollex's shoulder, staying silent for a few more minutes. Was there any easy way to tell him? Should you just drop the bomb on him now? There wasn't getting around it anyways, so it would be best to be up front, right?

ꨄ︎. "Trollex.. we're having twins."

ꨄ︎. You would squeeze your eyes shut upon telling him, waiting for his reaction. It was the one thing that you were fearing, the one reason you were so scared to tell him about the twins, and now it was something you would have to come to face with. Though, after a minute of complete silence from Trollex, you couldn't help but fear for the worst. "Love?.." Your voice was shaky as you carefully leaned away from his shoulder to catch a look at his face; You needed to know what he was feeling, what was happening, was he freaking out like you had or was he disgusted or?!- You couldn't even see his face before Trollex shot his hands up to cup your cheeks, no longer holding your waist. The sudden movement caught off guard, even more so when Trollex face sudden came closer to yours than you remembered it being. Yet... he had the brightened grin on his face, and you swore his eyes were stars as he stared in to yours. "Tell me that again." He would whisper, the excitement pouring out of him from the truck load. You couldn't help but stifle a giggle, glad he was taking this news so well but also counting his request as slightly strange. Either way, you indulged him. "Trollex, honey, we're having twins..?"

ꨄ︎. You had seen Trollex overly excited before, hell even bouncing off the walls, but his over joyous attituded right now was something that bested all those times easily. You would watch as he was literally throwing fist bumps in the air, zipping around like a little guppy high on sugar while gushing all about how he wanted to be a dad. You were sure, if he could, Trollex would be shouting "I'm a father!" to the whole Techno Village despite not having seen his two eggs yet. "Honey, is this what you were worried for?" He would asked through his excitement, taking your hands to help you off the floor. You would giggle as he picked you up by the waist and began to twirl you around, his grin (which you adored so much) never leaving. "I'm sorry, I thought I made it so clear to you that I wanted a family! You don't understand how long I've waited to be able to have kids with you, and now you're telling me we have twins?? It's like a dream come true for a guy like me!" You couldn't help but laugh, your hands firmly on Trollex's shoulders so you wouldn't fall. All the worried you had gathered were quickly filtering out as Trollex pulled you close for a hug, unable to contain all the emotions that bounced out of him. "Honey, you haven't even met the eggs!" You would shout through your laughter, only knowing that Trollex would grow even more excited upon actually seeing his eggs.

ꨄ︎. And you were right. Despite being careful with them, making sure they wouldn't break and they were properly being heated, Trollex was even more esthetic about being a dad he could barely keep it to himself! You had to basically hold him hostage inside your home so he wouldn't shout to the world "I'M A DAD!", as you would like some privilege in having the two kids be a secret for at least a little. But, that then meant you had to deal with his excitement alone. A sacrifice you were willing to make. You would giggle and laugh every time Trollex hugged and cuddled you, nuzzling his head against your shoulder or neck or cheek, exclaiming how he was so lucky; Lucky not only to have kids, but that you were also their parent and you were his and he could not picture his life with anyone else!

ꨄ︎. It took a good few hours before his excitement would wear off, not fully, but to a manageable amount. By that time, you both were laying in your bed with the eggs in between you two. Trollex was just admiring them, like they were the most precious thing in his life, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched him. You weren't sure how you managed to get this lucky, but you were sure thanking everyone who managed to make it happen.

@!; BONUS LITTLE SNIPPETS (things that didn't make it into the full story as well as some 'after math')

ꨄ︎. One of the babies were named Starr, after 'Starfish', and the other was named Pier. Trollex literally adores these kids so much, if you don't stop him he (and his parents) will spoil them rotten while teaching them out to be good people?? You trusted Trollex's parents, you didn't even need to question their ways (seeing how great of a man Trollex ways), but you did have to put a restriction on how much they did spoil Starr and Pier. Mostly you had to restrict Trollex.

ꨄ︎. Trollex and you have a jar of baby names! You had forgotten you two had set up a jar to place slips with baby names in them so when you two did have kids, it would be easy to pick out names. Trollex brought out the jar not even two days after he met the eggs, claiming how they needed names! He couldn't keep calling them eggs and eggie. You two saved the names you didn't pick, took out the two you did, and saved the jar encase you had more kids.

ꨄ︎. Trollex couldn't go two weeks before he spilled the news! You were even surprised that you managed to tell his and your families, and Synth, before he gushed about being a dad while DJing at a rave. Funny, it was the one rave you didn't go to because you were going to spend time with your family! You weren't mad at him, you found it cute how excited he was about being a dad, but it was surely confusing when random Trolls began congratulating you. (He did tell you as soon as he found you and apologize for slipping up :( )

ꨄ︎. No one could buy your babies anything because Trollex was on it first! Man was working on the nursery no less than a week to two after he first bet the eggs, asking for your input and all. He would let you help, but nothing too straining because you were holding the babies in your hair. Literally built the crib and room from the ground up by himself, with you helping where you could. Though the next day his and your parents would come over, asking if there's anything they could help with to pitch in for the baby. As soon as the words nursery left their lips, Trollex just had to show them the room!! Their jaws were on the floor, literally. Didn't expect the nursey to be done so soon. Trollex was very proud of himself.

ꨄ︎. The type of dad to go all out for any holiday, even mothers/fathers day for you! And in turn you do it right back. Y'alls house is so festive and cozy and fun.

ꨄ︎. Synth is like an Uncle to the kids, despite not being blood related to you or Trollex. But not all family had to be blood related, and you had to explain this to the two when they realized that Synth is just a really good friend. Family is chosen, not forced.

ꨄ︎. Overall, he's such a fun and goofy dad!! Will do anything to protect you and the kids. You guys are always his number one priority!

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

#trolls fandom #trollex x reader #king trollex x reader #trolls x reader #trolls fanfic #king trollex #dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls band together #trolls dreamworks #trolls 3 #trolls world tour #trolls trollex #trolls king trollex #x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #reader insert

224 notes · View notes

oggirlboss · 2 months

Text

[untitled and unedited]

pairing[s]: yandere! janitor!levi ackerman x afab student!reader

warnings: flirtatious behavior, power imbalance, m!masturbation, voyerism, age gap, and hella weird so read at your own risk.

summary: levi ackerman has to supervise a certain brat in detention. needy little virgin hours ensue before school is in session.

word count: 3000

art belongs to columbo on twitter

levi ackerman was the type of man that made the existence of female dress codes nessacary. he couldn't stop himself from looking up girls skirts when he knelt down to pick up their trash, or avoid looking down girls shirts when they leaned over to wash their hands in the sink. he didn't even regard his perversion as an awful thing. after all, there are other guys out there who let their obsessions go to the absolute extreme, their crimes delving into horrendous depths like rape and murder. levi could never imagine such things happening, the thought made him sick to his stomach. he wasn't that bad... was he?

principle erwin certainly didn't think so. he's known about levi's little habit since grade school, but that didn't stop him from writing levi a letter of recommendation and convincing the board of regents to hire him as the primary janitor at shiganshina high school. surely if erwin thought he was so bad he would have tried to protect the girls of the school from him, right?

¿ʇɥɓıɹ

it wasn't like all of his attention was centered on one individual, levi knew that type of behavior was out of the question. he was just liked looking that was all, he didn't have the skills to actually approach one of these girls. despite these perversions, he was disgusted by men that touched girls. the ones who prey on the vulnerable, whose sickly minds allow them to prey on girls and use their positions of power and authority to manipulate these girls into doing whatever they want. to use them however they want. levi didn't think he was like that at all.

but he did take a great interest in you during your sophomore year. you probably got put into detention for a stupid reason, and he couldn't help but sympathize with you. he figured that you got caught doing something mildly dangerous by an administrator and shoved into detention with the rest of the rejects. except since it was nearing the end of the year, all the other teachers didn't even bother to put their students in detention. they dished out more tame punishments to their students and basically took it easy for the last stretch of work until summer break. the teachers were just as fed up with their jobs as the students were with their mundane classes. you, unfortunately, were the unwritten exception to this unspoken rule, and as a result you were the only one sitting in a desolate cafeteria.

that was the first time levi truly paid attention to you. you were a shy kid, you mostly kept your head down and didn't talk much. he had seen you around before and he figured that it'd be creepy if he struck up a conversation before going off to clean the bathrooms in the teacher's lounge. as soon as he saw your silk-smooth skin peeking out of your too short shorts, he knew he'd need to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

"oi! brat." he spoke calmly, feigning disinterest when his heart was beating out of his chest. "i'm your assigned supervisor for detention. you can start by picking up a rag and some disinfectant to wipe down all the tables and chairs." his stomach lurched at the lie, this was exhilarating. he watched you hurry to do as he commanded, feeling pride swell in his chest. you believed him. he was a trusted adult, and his authority in the matter didn't need any questioning.

"i was told professor miche would be in charge of detention today." levi pondered on a good response, but he couldn't stop mulling over the fact that bastard had snatched you up first. miche would have had you all to himself if levi hadn't spoken up just now

"miche couldn't make it on time, so i'm here to cover for him." levi had a teasing tone in his voice, a smile ghosting his fine features for less than a second. "now are you going to stand around looking pretty, or are you going to get to work?" his taunt didn't have much of an effect on you as you marched up to his supply cart and snatched up a rag and some random chemical mix. "no no no. that won't do." levi sauntered towards you, snapping the rim of his plastic gloves as he did so. "you can't use furniture polish for cleaning surfaces. while the lemony scent does have it's perks, a bleach based product would help you much more." your eyebrows furrowed as you nodded. maybe you could learn something from his guidance, after all, he was a professional.

"alright. will clorox work?" you picked up the product by its handle and squeaked as you gripped the hilt, causing a foamy string of liquid to burst from its container.

"hey, hey, no funny business." levi smirked at your playful tenacity. you were so much more fun than he'd thought you would be. "who even taught you how to clean?" he scoffed in a light-hearted manner.

"i guess i'm self taught, but i always get the job done good enough." you smiled at him as you sprayed the different tables and wiped them down with an old blue rag.

"well maybe your good enough isn't good enough for me and my standards." levi hovered over your shoulder, carefully observing your movements. he wrapped himself around you, pressing his chest against your back and helping you grasp your hand around the rag. "move your arm in a circular motion, but don't press too hard into the wood, you'll tire yourself out too quickly that way." you carefully listened to every word he said, this is a learning experience, isn't it? this knowledge came straight from the mouth of a professional, you'd be absolutely daft to not pay attention to him. but it didn't help that he was easy on the eyes or that you could feel his muscles flex through your clothing. he was undeniably attractive and it was hard for you not to entertain the notion. his sharp breath ghosted the skin behind your ear.

"what sort of cleaning products do you use at home?" his question and his proximity startled you.

"um, i use the mr. clean stuff. my mom thought that their super bowl commercial from a few years ago was the epitome of comedy ."

"tch." you could feel his grip tighten on your hand as he shook his head. you frowned at his reaction.

"well what's that supposed to mean?" he sighed before spiraling into a lecture.

"mr. clean, although sexy in his own right, is much too expensive. especially those magic erasers of his. they are outrageously overpriced, and they're not even real magic." your nose crinkled as you snickered at his joke, and his face lit up in a blush. "they're uh, they're made of uh sodium bisulfite copolymer, and it's ridiculously cheap. for half the price, you can buy ten times the amount that damned company scams you with."

"i suppose that's one of the many miracles of capitalism." levi's deep chuckle vibrated through your back. his presence was comforting, and it was beyond a relief to have such a friendly person around, even if it will only last the span of detention.

"you're funny." he leaned into the crook of your neck and lightly sniffed the perfume you'd applied earlier that morning. it's probably for that bastard, miche. levi did his best to shake that thought out of his head, and hurriedly stepped away from you.

"is everything alright, sir?" you threw your rag down, abandoning your place at the table and rushed to his side. your hand rested on the bare skin of his arm, and your eyes widened seeing levi acting so odd. he was perfectly fine seconds ago, it was hard to understand how this change could have taken place so quickly. "you look very pale." before he could blink the backs of your fingers were pressed against his clammy forehead and he was in heaven. he basked in the attention you were giving him, and in this shaken state narrowly avoided lathering you with the same touching care.

"yes, yes." levi cradled his head in his hand, and stared up at you with his hair falling into his eyes. "it's just a little headache, it's no problem." he frequently struggled with migraines, but those were nothing compared to whatever was coming over him now.

"well, i have some extra tylenol in my purse, i can go back to my locker and get some." you couldn't register the speed with which he reached out and held your wrist in an iron grip.

"no." his voice was gravely, like a frog was caught in his throat. "don't leave. it's really nothing." he smiled to comfort you but it only did the opposite. there was a glint in his eyes that made you want to run away and never come back. you reluctantly agreed to stay with him, and worked through the rest of your detention in relative silence.

the following morning you were called into professor miche's office over the intercom. there were oohs and aahs from your classmates and a resounding thunder of commentary.

"i don't think y/n has ever gotten in trouble before." armin spoke to himself.

"she isn't going to be able to worm her way out of his one." snickered to her friends.

"how much you wanna bet she's screwing him to get a better grade?" reiner joked as berholdt berated him for making assumptions. wrong. wrong. wrong.

ɬɧɛყ'۷ɛ ɠơɬ ıɬ ąƖƖ ῳཞơŋɠ, ʝųʂɬ Ɩıƙɛ ɬɧɛყ ąƖῳąყʂ ɖơ.

you slammed your fists on the table, effectively silencing the chatter. you didn't bother to push your chair back in as you raced down the hallway to pound on miche's office door. you heard a sigh from inside as he beckoned you inside. his menacing figure towered over you

"it's not polite for you to skip out on detention, l/n. where were you for our session?"

"well, you would know if you weren't tardy for detention, sir." you smiled in an effort to brush off the discomforting feeling his stare brought you. miche leaned down to your level and violently sniffed the air around you. "i was with the janitor, you told him to fill in for you. does that ring a bell?" you could care less if you were sounding rude, but his questioning was getting tedious.

professor miche sneered down at you, mulling over the consequences that would be brought down upon you if he discovered this was a lie. "is this true, levi?" your eyes widened as turned around to see levi leaning on the handle of his cart. the hallway was utterly devoid of people, and you didn't understand how you didn't hear his footsteps or the squeak of the wheels on his cart. it's like he was invisible the entire time, appearing silently like a ghost. levi cleared his throat as he stared back at miche.

"quite so, yes. she worked very well under my guidance." he let his gaze drop to the ground as he licked his lips. "it makes me wish that miss l/n could get detention more often so i could have some help keeping this place tidy." he absentmindedly swiped two fingers over miche's name card that hung on his office door. "she worked well, and i'm sure she'll learn from the experience." miche scowled at levi, something was off about him. while the two of them weren't particularly close, he could certainly tell if something was wrong. he'll have to report this to principle erwin, if only to ease his conscience. "well, if that's everything, i suppose i'll be on my way." you gave levi a little smile and mouthed a quick thank you before he set off down the hallway with his cart.

the rumbling of the wheels echoed through the empty hallway as he moved closer and closer to the bathrooms he'd set out to clean. his cart was placed to the right of the entrance to the boy's bathroom and upon entering he was greeted with the welcoming scent of orange spice. levi took great care to make sure he was alone in that bathroom before he retreated into the furthest stall. he undid the buttons of his pants and slid them down his milky thighs until they rested around his ankles. he ran a swift hand through his silky black hair as he gripped the base of his cock tightly, gently smoothing over the thick skin and working to calm his unsteady breathing. he's never been this wound up during his work hours, but he had a feeling that this was soon going to be a normal occurrence. his brain began to wander away from the bathroom stall as he thought back to the porn he'd watched in his car before he came into work. he imagined the movements of the female model's body beneath the man, and how her body shook with every impact of their hips. his manhood twitched in excitement as he thought of her y/h/c hair that laid spread across her red pillows, but that was too perfect. it wasn't dirty enough for him. he needed the real deal, but nobody wanted to touch an old man, and they certainly didn't want to touch someone as creepy as levi ackerman. so he had to resort to doing it himself.

his hand stilled, cock sitting at attention against his pale stomach. he ran a finger over the mushroom-like head and began to roughly fist his cock like a madman. his eyes clenched shut as he tried to think of something that would get him off. the first thought that came to his mind wasn't even erotic, but it gave him a renewed vigor and sent a primal ache coursing through his aching cock. he wondered how you would look sleeping. you have to be the most heavenly creation in existence, vulnerable and at peace while you dream. it would only be too easy to get into the file cabinets that contain thee student records and discover your place of residence, and finally be blessed by the sight of you snuggled into your bed with your stuffed animals cradled to your chest. he could shimmy your cute pajama shorts off your body and press his hot tongue against your cunt. it'd be slimy and wet and lewd and absolutely gross. and he'd love every goddamn minute of it. your face would be flushed red and sweat would bead your forehead as you unconsciously rut against his mouth. he wants your juices to lather his lips and hold your breasts in a death grip as he makes you squirt onto his waiting tongue. he wants to be 𝖘𝖔 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 to you, and spoil you in every way imaginable. he wants to spear you on his cock and bury his head in your breasts, smothering himself and coating the valley between the two mounds on your chest with a mixture of his heavy drool and your wet release. he'll pump you full of his cum until you're absolutely bursting and pull up your panties to hide his mess. he'll sneak out your window and drive home while you lay in warm in your bed with your face shoved into your pillow.

he lets out a heavy groan as he brings his hand to his mouth to bite on his knuckles to stop any sound from escaping his treacherous mouth. he began to imagine what you would look like if you gave him a handjob. would you be slow and tentative? or would you opt to beat his manhood dry? no doubt your delicate fingertips would feel like heaven on earth, and your soft breath would hit his cheek as you focused on bringing him immense pleasure. he heard the door to the bathroom open, but he couldn't break free from his lusty haze. his mind was too focused on the constant phap phap phap of his hand beating against his manhood to register the footsteps that slowly neared the stall he occupied. a hand pressed against the unlocked door to fully expose levi's perversions to the open air. he looks up to see erwin staring down at him, a disappointed look coating the principle's face. no words were spoken as levi continued his assault on his cock. a broken cry left his lips as he threw his head back, eyes clamped shut as he felt his creamy cum shoot out onto his shirt and hand.

"really, levi?" his eyebrows furrowed as levi looked him dead in the eye. "the boy's bathroom?" levi groaned at his question, not bothering to answer before bending over and pulling up his pants. levi had no shame, and certainly not in front of erwin.

levi laughed as he wiped the cum off his hand with toilet paper. "would you prefer i did it in the girl's?" his bland retort left a dumbfounded erwin unable to move from where he stood. levi used that moment of shock to escape from the stall and out into the hallway. he was going to enjoy this newfound sense of freedom.

80 notes · View notes

elvenisms · 1 year

Text

friday —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [3.5k]

summary: Robin orchestrates the best (and worst) Valentine's Day of your life.

cw: angst, fluff, cursing, no use of y/n, steve is an idiot (per usual), reader cries a lot (relatable), happy ending.

author's note: i got carried away with this, ngl. proof that i cannot write anything fluffy without angst. enjoy!

masterlist

It was Thursday.

Thursdays were good days. You didn’t work, giving you some well-needed rest from wearing that stupid vest, rewinding tapes, and dealing with late returns. You could throw on a movie you’d been meaning to watch for weeks, invite some friends over, and veg out. You could go see a show at The Hideout, if someone interesting was playing. Sometimes, Thursday was laundry day. But today wasn’t any Thursday.

Today was Thursday, February 13th, 1986. The day before Valentine’s Day.

“Vickie and I are going to do something, we just don’t know what.” Robin pushed her lips together, toying with a loose piece of thread on your couch. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a little date during the day, but we thought a group thing would be fun, ya’ know?”

Eddie had come over to watch Day of the Dead with you that day, and when Robin got off work, she called to see what you were up to. “Hanging out with Eds, pretending Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.” You’d quipped, which is precisely how she ended up in your house, talking about Valentine’s Day.

“As much as I’d love to third-wheel,” Eddie stretched. “I’m going to see a show. Some new guys, but I heard they’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wracked your brain for something you had to do, trying to get out of it, just as Eddie had. “I’m, uh, working. And then… Oh, I told Max I’d help her study? Some test she has. Science, I think.”

Eddie and Robin both eyed you judgmentally. It was entirely unconvincing, and also a lie. The Max part, anyway.

“Oh, give me a break,” You grunted, their faces saying enough. “I already told you, Rob, tomorrow is just Friday as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you don’t want it to just be Friday,” She remarked. “You want it to be Valentine’s Day, but you’re lonely.”

A huff of air came through Eddie’s nose, trying not to laugh at her well-meaning bluntness. You gave him a sour look, and he quickly dropped it.

“Thank you for reminding me,” You muttered, leaning forward to pick up some empty beer bottles from the table, carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen.

You weren’t actually mad, not at Robin. You were frustrated with the fact that you cared about some stupid holiday, that you couldn’t just be like Eddie, who genuinely didn’t give a shit. Unwilling to admit it to yourself, you were also mad that every guy in Hawkins you’d gone out with was a total disaster; Matthew Campbell probably couldn’t tie a shoelace if you asked him to, and you told him that, so you didn’t suspect he’d be knocking on your door tomorrow.

You waltzed back into the living room to your unsuspecting victims, now on a tirade you’d created in your own head. “It’s not my fault that there is no one in this town for me, okay? I’ve officially given up. I’m tired of putting on makeup, going to Enzo’s, and making awful small talk, for which the reward is a lackluster trip to second base in the back of a ca—”

Robin gasped as if she’d seen a ghost. Your rant halted, staring at her, and she looked back with wide eyes, jaw agape. “How have I never put this together?”

She looked like she’d just had a stroke of genius, discovered a new element, or something. You looked at Eddie, then back to her. “Put what together? That I’m hopeless?”

“No, no no,” She leapt up off of the couch, starting to pace. “You sound just like—oh my God, this is incredible. I mean, this is actually perfect—”

“Robin!” You threw your arms out, exasperated, letting them smack against your sides.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, gripping your shoulders. “Steve, who is also lonely and has no plans for tomorrow!”

Your insides twisted. Steve.

You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you’d never thought about him that way before. I mean, you had eyes, but your close friendship had never allowed it to last more than a minute. More than anything, the two of you poked fun at each other, constantly trying to see who could get the last word. But you were still close, close enough that you knew he’d come running if you ever really needed him, and that was… nice.

Everything about him was nice, really.

You blinked at Robin, your gears shifting at impossible speeds. She was still holding your shoulders, expectant.

“I think she’s on board.” Eddie piped up with a smirk, and you instantly held a finger out to him, still looking at the girl in front of you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re saying it with your eyes.” Robin was containing a giddy squeal. You could almost feel her vibrating.

“No, no, I’m not.” You finally broke free from her grasp. Now you were pacing. “If Steve was interested in me, he would’ve said something a long time ago.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah, dingus, with a capital ‘D’,” Robin gestured with her hands. “I saw a bird land on his head once and he asked me what I was looking at. You think he’d notice he had a shot with you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, that’s… yeah, you’re right. But I’m not just gonna call him up and ask him to be my Valentine. I’d rather puke.”

“So don’t!” Robin spun around, another lightbulb behind her eyes. “I have an idea.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This was a terrible idea.

You were staring into your mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. You’d gone for not-trying-too-hard cute; a black turtleneck with a calf-length, patterned skirt, and a thick belt around your waist. You’d done your hair and your makeup, satisfied with them, but this time felt… different. You weren’t going to Enzo’s with some tip-stiffing lowlife. You were seeing Steve.

Robin had suggested a gathering at your place. She, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan were sitting in your living room, sipping drinks, chatting mindlessly. When she’d invited Steve, she’d said that the four of them were going to your house—assuming he’d pick up the hint, and jump at the chance to be your date.

And he did.

The real reason you’d never allowed Steve to infiltrate your mind was because, well, that’s exactly what he’d do. You could handle losing Matthew Campbell, or Ben Taylor, or any of these meaningless Hawkins guys you never realistically saw yourself with in the first place; but Steve was close. Close to your friends, close to your heart, inching ever nearer by the minute.

It was terrifying. But then again, he agreed to come—–and that made your stomach flutter.

Deciding you’d spent enough time making sure every last hair was in order, you took a deep breath, venturing back out to the living room. You were greeted with warm, knowing smiles.

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy rose from her seat, coming over to give your arms a comforting rub. “Really, he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You nodded, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Thanks, Nance.”

“It makes so much sense, doesn’t it? I mean, I really should play matchmaker more often. I’m changing lives here!” Robin shook Vickie’s thigh where her hand rested, excitedly. It made everyone chuckle.

Jonathan took another sip of his drink. “Now you’ve just gotta find someone for Ed—”

A knock at the door. Fuck. In an instant, every ounce of confidence you had flew straight out of the window. And your face must’ve shown it, because Nancy began soothing you again.

“Hey, look at me.” She whispered, and you did. “You’ve never been this nervous to see him before, right? Pretend this is just another day. Just… Friday.”

You swallowed. It definitely wasn’t just Friday anymore.

Nonetheless, you shot a weak, thankful smile at her, making your way up to the door. Usually, you’d be embarrassed to let your friends see you this way—taking deep breaths, shaking your hands to relieve some anxious energy. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less, much too preoccupied with the thought of Steve’s face. Just open it. Open the door.

So, you did.

And there he was, grinning adorably, smelling of his cologne, wearing a well-fitted sweater... Holding hands with a girl.

“Hey,” He spoke happily, though his eyes searched your face for just a moment, as if you’d let the shock slip through. “This is Brenda.”

Your whole body stiffened, knowing that the rest of the group heard him, and were now searing holes through the back of your head. Your stomach flipped over on itself, even your organs mortified.

“Hi, Brenda.” You forced a smile at the girl, as if every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire. “Come on in.”

As you turned around, you studied the expressions in the room, seeking some kind of escape. Nancy and Vickie at least tried to look normal, staring at the ground or taking a sip of their drink; Jonathan’s brow was furrowed in disbelief, and Robin’s mouth was hanging open, eyes locked on you.

You quickly walked to the couch where Nancy and Jonathan sat, just standing beside it, your fight-or-flight instinct physically unwilling to let you sit. At least Steve and Brenda would have a spot now, right?

The embarrassment was already making your eyes water.

As the two of them entered the uncomfortably silent living room, you saw his eyes scan the room, similarly to how you had—like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it, his eyes landed back on you, any trace of his previous smile gone.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Brenda chirped to the group, the tension completely unnoticed by her.

You felt suffocated. Suffocated by your turtleneck, by the silence, by Brenda’s curly, blonde hair and perfectly pink lips—but mostly by Steve, who was still staring at you. You refused to look back.

“Music!” You squawked, mind numb. “We should put on some music, it’s so quiet—” You strided toward your box of cassettes, sat beside the television, and began scrambling with them. “—I’ve got Tears for Fears, or, um, oh! ABBA, everyone likes ABBA, right? Uh…”

Without you even noticing, Nancy appeared at your side, gently grabbing the tapes from your hands. “Hey, hey. I’ll pick out some music, okay?” Her voice was quiet, forehead creased in concern.

Your movements slowed. You nodded, eyes half-welled with tears. The dam was definitely about to break.

“Okay, well,” You stood up again, arms swaying slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “You guys sit. I’m, um… I’ll be right back.”

You spun on your heel, making your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you by leaning on it. The tears began to fall immediately, streaking your face with mascara.

You felt stupid. Stupid for ever letting Robin set this up, stupid for spending so much time making yourself presentable, when Brenda looked so effortlessly beautiful. You’d convinced yourself it would be some sort of magical night, which seemed ridiculous now. Why would Steve want you? More importantly, why would you ever let him affect you this way?

Your chest heaved, trying desperately to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted was more pity.

Soon enough, you heard a soft click from the living room, the faint sounds of Kate Bush coming through the speakers. You considered your options: hide in your room until the party was over, risk someone coming to check on you, go back out there and endure stares of sympathy, or… Leave.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, bringing you to your feet. You went to your mirror, attempting to smear away the black marks under your eyes—it was useless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Eddie would call it metal. So, for where you were headed, it was actually perfect.

You snatched your purse off of the dresser, the hurt morphing from sadness to anger, and marched out into the living room, making a bee-line for the front door. Everyone’s heads perked up. Your hand met the doorknob, gripping it tightly, before Steve appeared next to you.

“Hey, can you just wait a sec—where are you going?” He spoke softly, avoiding the rest of the rooms prying ears. His voice was hoarse.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see a show with Eddie.”

“Can you let me explain? Please, just—”

Your head turned sharply, reddened eyes daggering through his solemn, brown ones. “I’m embarrassed, Steve. I’m…” You swallowed, fighting back any more tears. “I can’t be here right now. Can’t I just go?”

He brought a hand up, running it anxiously through his own hair. He looked dejected, and despite how much you wanted to hate him at this moment, your heart panged. It wasn’t enough to make you stay; not when Brenda was still on your couch. Not when the rest of the group felt sorry for you.

“Okay,” He finally breathed, barely audible. You started to open the door, and he softly took hold of your wrist. “Just be safe. Please.”

You looked at him, heart thrumming in your chest, eyelashes stuck together from the mixture of tears and makeup. “Have a good night. I’m… I’m sorry I ruined it.”

And with that, you were out the door, despite his attempt to say something else.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The show was an adequate distraction.

When you’d shown up at The Hideout, scouting Eddie out in the crowd, he was shocked to see you. He was even more shocked to see the state you were in—makeup destroyed, eyes puffy, a hand clinging shakily to your purse. He immediately threw an arm around you, eyes expectant for an explanation.

“He brought a girl,” you’d shouted over the music. Eddie couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder, squeezing your arm in frustration. “He’s even dumber than I thought then,” He yelled back.

Steve was dumb. Purposefully dumb? You didn’t think so, and that made it all the more difficult to stay angry.

You were thankful for Eddie more than ever. He was always great at taking your mind off of things, getting you to let loose, have fun; it may have been the worst Valentine’s Day of your life, but at least he had given it some kind of silver lining. It was almost impossible not to smile around him, especially when he was acting extra goofy, insistent on lifting your spirits.

When he drove you home, the events of the night began to set in again. You dreaded your next conversation with Steve, whenever that would happen—I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you, you could hear him saying, shoving the embarrassment deeper down your throat.

You considered never speaking to him again, just to spare yourself that feeling.

“Do you want me to come in?” Eddie laid a gentle hand on your knee, his beaten-up car parked a few feet from your door.

“No, I’m okay.” You assured him, unconvincingly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Think I just need to wallow tonight, y’know?”

He nodded, looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry, seriously. Kind of want to kill the kid.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Don’t tempt me, I might just give you the go-ahead.”

The two of you looked at each other, sharing a small chuckle. Eventually, you reached over, hugging him tight.

“Thank you for tonight. Really, I needed it.” You whispered, and he gave your back a comforting rub. “Anytime, you know that.”

You exited the car, already starting to wish you’d said yes to Eddie’s offer, and made your way to the door. Through the windows, you could see that most of the lights were off—everyone had gone home, thank God, though you were sure Robin and Nancy would be calling off the hook to talk about everything.

You jiggled the handle open, greeted by your dark living room, apart from the one lamp emanating warm light. And underneath it, Steve.

Sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back, arms crossed. Fast asleep.

You froze, a tightness in your chest. It was exactly what you didn’t want right now, to see him, have to talk to him. And for whatever reason, something in you was glad to find him there.

You softly shut the door behind you, sat your bag on the coffee table, and took a seat beside him. The cushion dipping under your weight caused him to stir awake: his head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering open. They widened at the sight of you.

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was quick to adjust himself to a more awake position. He cleared his throat, though it did little for his voice. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, toying with your skirt. “Did… did you stay?”

“I was worried about you.” He looked into your eyes, and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“What about Brenda?”

“I took her home. Came back.”

“Look,” You started, finding the strength to avert your gaze. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone else feeling bad for me. It was Robin’s idea, and of course you don’t feel that way about me, it was really stupid of me to assume—”

“Stop.” He blurted, somewhat forcefully. You blinked at him. “Please, just stop. I fucked up tonight, really bad. When I got the invite, I thought you’d have someone with you. It just… I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t an idiot, I would’ve never brought Brenda.”

Your stomach flipped familiarly, like it did when you heard a knock at the door earlier. “She was beautiful, though.”

“She isn’t you.” His hand landed on your thigh, and his eyes darted to it for a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to. You both lingered there.

When he realized you weren’t going to push it away, he continued. “If—if when you went out with Eddie… I mean, if I blew my chance, I understand.”

Blew his chance. You wondered if he could ever truly do that.

“Steve, Eddie was just cheering me up.” You couldn’t help but smile a little, putting your hand over his. “He’s not my Valentine, if that’s what you’re asking. He does kind of want you dead, though.”

“They all want me dead, trust me.” He blew air out of his lips, eyebrows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, Brenda went to the bathroom, and I got a thorough bitching out.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide the happiness that brought you. “You kind of deserved it, though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He affirmed. There were a few moments of stillness, your touching hands drawing both of your attention.

“Is Brenda your Valentine?” You wondered, voice softer.

“Didn’t ask her to be.” He looked up at you, voice matching your tone. “Are you still… looking for one?”

Your eyes were locked, melting under each other's gaze. You could almost feel his breath. His free hand came up to cradle your face, thumbing across your stained cheek.

“There’s really only one I wanted.”

“Same here.” He whispered.

You quickly leaned forward, disturbing the stillness of the moment, and slotted your lips with his. He tasted like beer and strawberry chapstick, and smelled like a warm summer day—one that broke through the chill you’d been feeling all evening. Butterflies erupted inside you, fluttering in your stomach, your heart, your veins.

Your hands came up to clutch at his chest, the fabric of his sweater crinkling beneath your fingers. The kiss, which had started fervent, softened; the two of you broke apart, and he stole a peck at the corner of your mouth, foreheads resting against each other.

You both took heavy breaths, caused more by emotion than physical exertion, chests rising and falling in unison.

“I gotta make it up to you.” He breathed. You shook your head ever so slightly, a grin playing across your lips.

“Steve, you already—”

“I’ll be your Valentine every day, for as long as you let me.”

You thought it might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your forehead creased, trying not to let your eyes water, this time for a much better reason. As close as your faces were, you knew he noticed anyway.

“Deal?” His eyes searched your own, voice small, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You couldn’t stop a happy huff from leaving your lips, a single tear fighting its way out of the corner of your eye. “Deal.”

He beamed, pressing his lips into yours, as if he’d been awaiting the opportunity to do it again.

Steve Harrington became yours on Valentine’s Day, 1986. A Friday. A day you’d almost always ignored, until you didn’t. A day you were almost certain was going to be the worst day of your life, until it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve been the best.

Because Steve would continue to be yours each Friday after that—and every day in between, too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction

1K notes · View notes