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#dunno why this came to my head but it's funny
shortcakelils · 1 year
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front-facing-pokemon · 8 months
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#registeel#and now this guy is maybe a bit less interesting. from this standpoint‚ i mean. the eyes being just dots make it a little hard to like#feel *connected* to them when they're ffp'd‚ y'know? i feel like it's kind of a reductive angle. which is why i zoomed this one and the last#one out a bit. so you can see a bit of the rest of their body. it's maybe less funny but would it really have been funny to just see 7 red#dots on a gray background and have to read the tag to know it's registeel? i dunno. maybe. maybe it would've been. but i like this more#maybe the explanation is that i'm taking these pictures myself. i personally know all these pokémon and have to ask them if i have permissio#n to take these pictures of them. but registeel said i couldn't get too close. so we settled with this. hehe yeah that's why :) hehe :)#anyway. you now have the aegis cave theme stuck in your head#hi it's me from the present. saturday morning. in yesterday's queued post i came up with the idea of maybe doing a monotype run of a pokémon#game. i don't know which one yet but i wanted to do water-type. but i was like. maybe i'll liveblog it on my main blog. yesterday#and today i came back and saw those tags as i was queuing up today's 'mons and i was like… hell maybe i could stream it if enough folks are#interested. but if anyone is then i didn't want to wait that long for the queue to get to that post bc that's gonna post on like. august 18#and class for my last semester of college Ever starts back up on august 21st and i don't. know if i want to start another pokémon playthroug#h that close to classes starting. especially not one where at least one (1) individual out there might be waiting for it So i put 'em here#they'll still be on that post but. they're here. just in case someone out there is chronically bored enough that that's something they'd be#interested in. y'never know there's a lot of folks here#anyway i will now queue up kricketot. see you then… or i guess see you whenever if you like send in an ask or a message or smth…
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devilfic · 10 months
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part four to this series
cw: 18+ mdni, mentions of blood drinking, fantasizing about biting, miguel’s got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut just miguel losing his mind. this is the horniest one yet.. sorry!
miguel cannot get the taste of you out of his mind. it hadn’t been the part of you he’d wanted, the part of you that overwhelmed him, but it had been close. throughout the day he’d catch himself licking behind his fangs even though he’d since flushed his mouth clean of you. sometimes, he’d nick his tongue on his canine and the taste of his own blood would remind him of you again.
jessica asked about the gauze on your arm while miguel was in the room and you’d had a quick response, though not one that would spare him the knowing look from his (other) right-hand woman, “oh, miguel and I were playing too hard.”
sure enough, jessica drew’s eyes narrow behind her glasses. she even pushes them up into the crown of curls and coils on her head so her disappointment really gets across, “aren’t you a little too old to be rough-housing, miguel?”
if it were just that, miguel could confidently say it was an accident. if this had been about the cut on your eye that had healed over weeks before, there’d be honest guilt on his face when he defended himself. but no, you had asked. you’d practically put your arm in his mouth. you’d asked for him to hurt you, and you’d liked it.
and he’d liked it too. he didn’t know if he could hide that part.
before he can think of what to say, you chime in, “he’s always careful. it was my fault this time.”
“I don’t get why you two have to fight all the time. can’t you try, I dunno, healing yoga?”
miguel tried to picture himself in a downward dog pose and almost started laughing. from the flicker of mirth across your features, you seemed to be picturing the same thing. then he accidentally pictured you in that pose, pictured himself standing behind you, pictured taking your waist in his claws and crouching over you to sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too.
he digs his heels into the floor to rid himself of the image. his voice is strained as he replies, “it was their idea. can’t help that it works.”
jessica is far too exhausted with life as a new mother to try to understand that. she waves a hand, her white flag for the conversation, “whatever. I just came to borrow your assistant for the day. is that alright with you?”
lyla materializes on miguel’s shoulder, one holographic leg crossed over the other, “who, moi?”
“no thanks, tinkerbell. I need a person. preferably with some muscle.”
miguel would find that funny but all he can think to ask is, “why?” but you’re already standing up and following jessica to the doors of his office. he feels a sudden queasiness at the thought of not seeing you for the rest of the day. the day itself had just started. his morning coffee hadn’t even gone cold.
he hadn’t been left alone without you since you’d started here. now, he’d spend the whole day alone?—lyla sings a goodbye next to his ear—with just lyla?
he stands, abruptly, making his desk shake and shift a few inches. the sound is enough to stop the two of you in your tracks. your eyes bore into his own, curious, and he feels silly like the first day you’d caught him mid-tantrum. he means to sound intimidating and authoritative, but his voice can’t help the weakness when he looks at you, “I didn’t say yes.”
jessica’s hard look is almost enough to make him sit back down.
but you smile, tilt your head to the side, turn fully to him, “sorry. can I go, mr. o’hara?”
in truth, you didn’t need to ask him. but he didn’t know what else he’d expected when he objected like that. he wanted to hear it. he’d wanted to hear you ask for permission, or better yet refuse jessica altogether. he wanted you to sit back down across the desk from him and crack jokes at his expense, tease him and cackle even though he was the butt of the joke  every single time. he wanted you to offer up a mini spar session after he came back from hunting down anomalies again just to get the adrenaline out of his system. he wanted you to pin him down and win, again, so he could flip you on your back when you least expected it and he could sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too-
miguel clears his throat and sits back down, painfully aware of where his blood was flowing to now. he waved a hand, murmured something noncommittal, but you’d really put the nails in his coffin. you bowed at the waist, smug like you always were when he was watching, and said in none too innocent of a tone, “thank you, sir.” and left.
miguel watched the doors shut. his ears tuned into the sound of jessica’s voice and yours mingling down the hallway, further and further away. he waited until you two were so far out of earshot that he couldn’t tell your mumble apart from the next spider’s. and then, he croaked out lyla’s name.
“yes?” she dragged out her response, the knowing, teasing lilt to her voice was more grating on his wound nerves than usual.
“lock the doors to my office, please. and turn off the lights.” his voice was a hair above a whisper. lyla did as told and quietly. “send the… send the society a message that I won’t be in for the next two hours.”
“shall I copy miss drew, too?”
“yes.”
“and… anyone else?”
miguel rests his forehead against his fist, taking even breaths in and out. he could feel the talons beneath his skin beginning to extend. his breath shudders, “yes.”
lyla hums, “anything else, miguel?”
“take a break for the afternoon.”
he can’t see her and he doesn’t want to see her (not right now, anytime but now) but he knows her code inside out, knows she’s questioning him. “that’s a first. got some business to take care of?” his answer is but a low, embarrassed growl, and that’s enough to send her off laughing into cyberspace.
a beat passes, then two. it’s quiet all the way up here in his office without the sounds of the other spider-people or lyla or jessica or you.
thinking about you brings back those images from earlier and when he bites into his clenched fist, he feels the sharp pain of his fangs breaking skin. the pain distracts him for all of two seconds and then he’s thinking of you on top of him, holding your arm out for him to bite you, except it’s your throat this time. you’re hovering over him, the smell at your neck and the bob of your swallowing throat overwhelm him.
you’re sitting on his lap in this very chair, hands clasped at his shoulders or gripping the arm rests or tied together behind his head as you lean in, press yourself flush against him, and bare your throat to him. he’d never wanted to bite anyone that wasn’t a threat to him, never wanted to taste the warmth of their blood as it couldn’t help but trickle onto his tongue, never wanted to hear and feel the guttural moan from you as you sink down on him.
“sir”. you’d called him “sir”. mr. o’hara, you’d done that before, but never sir. a wet and wild whine leaves his throat when he remembers how your voice wrapped around it.
before he goes any further, he sucks in a breath and removes his fist from between his teeth, collecting himself enough to summon lyla once more. the AI didn’t even bother to look in his direction when she appeared on the surface of his desk, her fingers swiping at some book she’d pulled up in front of her. this next “yes?” was just as dragged out, just as knowing, just as teasing.
“three hours.” miguel’s voice cracks out. lyla fades into thin air with a single, three-fingered salute.
part five
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taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @sleepdeprived-barelyalive​​ @internal-soundtrack​​ @joceymoo​​ @x-ratedhimbo​​ @themedsaintworkin​​ @adamsloverboy​​ @giulia2372​​ @lemonrolls​​ @p1nkliquor​​ @syarblu​​ @trished​​ @serostapesweat​​ @lilith-lovecraft​ @epicy0n​
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sanguineterrain · 1 year
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i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.
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Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.
Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Word count: 8.8k
Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.
A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!
divider by firefly-graphics
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August 1981
"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."
You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 
"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."
He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 
"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."
"I'll help you with your work," you say. 
Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 
"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."
Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 
"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."
"You think?" 
You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 
"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 
The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 
"Why wouldn't we?"
"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."
You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 
"You are not dumb, Steve."
One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.
He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 
"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."
His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 
"Tommy says I am."
"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."
You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 
“Promise?” he asks.
“Yes, Steve. I promise.”
“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 
You nod and lay back on the floaty. 
“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 
“Just us?” 
“Just us.”
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Now. (January, 1987)
You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 
Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 
You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 
You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 
And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 
Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 
“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”
Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.
“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”
“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.
“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."
The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.
“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 
You lean against the side of the game, considering.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” he says.
You snort. 
“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”
He glances at you. 
“So?”
“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 
You wink at Dustin. He beams.
“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 
The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 
“Seriously?” he asks.
“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”
Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 
You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 
“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 
You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”
Dustin sours.
“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 
“No way!"
He shakes his head.
“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”
You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”
“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 
“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 
You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 
Dustin shrugs, starting the game.
“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”
“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”
“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”
“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."
You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 
"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."
"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."
“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."
"Would I now?"
"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 
"Wow. Impressive."
"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”
“You would?”
The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.
“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”
“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."
“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”
“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”
Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.
“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”
"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."
"'Kay!"
Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 
"Who do I ask for?" 
"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"
"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"
"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."
Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 
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The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.
"Can I help who's next?"
You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!
"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 
"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 
You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 
She nods in realization. 
"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."
You wince. 
"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"
Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 
"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"
"Pretty in Pink," you say. 
"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"
"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."
She grins.
"Me too. She's pretty."
"Super pretty," you agree. 
The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 
"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."
You take her hand. "Y/N.”
"Did you go to Hawkins High?"
"I did. Graduated last year."
"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"
You nod. 
"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."
"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"
"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."
You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 
"How come?" she asks. 
"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."
Robin smiles sympathetically. 
"They're jerks," she says. 
You huff. "Yeah."
You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 
Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 
"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."
"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 
She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 
You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 
The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 
"Have you been waiting long?"
You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 
Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 
He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 
"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."
You blink.
"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 
"No," you manage. 
"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 
He doesn't remember you. 
You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.
And he doesn't remember you. 
"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.
You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 
"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."
"I have to go," you say. 
You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 
Her brows rise. 
"Oh. Is everything—"
"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."
"That's okay, we can just—"
You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 
Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 
And then you cry. 
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February 1982
"What do you think about Marie?" 
You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 
"Marie Iverson?" you ask.
"Yeah." 
Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 
"I don't know. I don't know her that well."
"She's cute." 
"I guess so," you say. 
It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—
"I was thinking of asking her out."
The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 
"Shit, here. Take mine." 
Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 
"Y/N?" 
"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."
"Sure. So what do you think?" 
"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."
"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."
Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 
"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 
"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."
"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."
Steve deflates. 
"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."
You sigh and rub your temple. 
"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."
"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."
Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.
"Y/N?"
"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 
"Writing?"
"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."
"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."
He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 
"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."
Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 
"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."
"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 
"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"
"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."
Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."
Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.
You shuffle your papers into a stack. 
"Can we study now?" you ask.
"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."
"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."
He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.
"Lemme take you out," he says. 
You nearly swallow your tongue. 
"Wh–what?"
"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."
"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."
Steve beams. "I'll drive you."
Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 
You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 
Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 
"Just us?" you check. 
You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 
"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 
You check your watch and close your book. 
"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 
Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 
"Please," he says. "For helping me."
Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."
Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 
"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."
You perk up at that. "Really?"
"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 
"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."
And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.
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Now
You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 
"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."
You might have overshot the perks, though. 
Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 
"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."
She shoots you a mean look. 
"I'm complaining to the manager."
You paste on a smile. 
"You do that. Have a nice day."
She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 
Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 
"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.
Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 
You lean your elbows on the countertop. 
"What'll it be, gang?"
"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."
You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 
"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.
"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."
Dustin accepts this with no argument. 
"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."
You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 
He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 
"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 
"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 
Lucas nods. 
"Yup. They're both parents."
You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 
"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."
"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."
"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"
Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 
"What?"
"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 
"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."
"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."
"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 
Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 
"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."
"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 
"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 
"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."
"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 
Dustin nods eagerly.
You blink. "He protects you guys?"
Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 
"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."
"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."
"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."
"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."
You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 
"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."
"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."
"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 
Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."
"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”
“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.
“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”
You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 
When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 
"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"
"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."
"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"
"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."
"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.
"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 
"And why can't your babysitter take you?"
You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 
"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."
Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 
"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."
"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."
“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.
You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.
“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”
“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.
“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”
You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.
“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”
Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”
You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”
“Byeeee!”
They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.
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March 1983
“Okay, but if you had to choose.”
“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”
Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”
“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”
“Exactly! My birthday.”
He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.
“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”
“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”
“I keep telling you you need glasses.”
“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”
He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 
“Shit,” he says.
You belly laugh in delight.
“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”
“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”
"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."
You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 
The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 
“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”
"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.
“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”
“‘S cold.”
“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”
He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”
“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.
“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.
“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 
“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”
“Can’t believe no one else came.”
You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.
“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”
You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.
“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.
“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”
“I listen.”
Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.
“God, I miss you,” he says.
You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 
“I’m right here, Steve.”
“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”
Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.
“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”
“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”
“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.
“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”
You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.
“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”
“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”
Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”
His laugh is warm in your neck. 
You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.
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Now
“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”
“Game plan?” El asks quietly.
“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”
She stares at Lucas.
“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”
“Right.”
“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”
You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”
Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”
“Or a total disaster,” Max says.
You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.
“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”
The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.
“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”
Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”
“Uh-huh.” 
The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 
“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 
You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 
“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”
Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.
“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”
He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.
“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.
“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”
“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”
“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”
He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”
“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.
“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”
“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”
Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.
“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 
Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.
“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”
Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.
“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 
“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.
“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”
America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 
“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 
You feel a burst of pride.
Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.
“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”
“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”
No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 
“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”
Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.
Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”
Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”
Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.
“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”
He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.
“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”
The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 
“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”
“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”
Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.
“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”
She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”
“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”
Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”
You’re suddenly exhausted.
“What do you want, Steve?”
“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”
“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”
“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”
“I didn’t want it that much.”
“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”
“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”
“Y/N—”
“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”
Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 
“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”
“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”
“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”
Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.
So you run. Again. 
You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 
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You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?
So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.
Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.
Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.
"Slushie?"
She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"
You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"
"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"
Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 
You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 
"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.
Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"
"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 
Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 
"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 
"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"
"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."
Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 
"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."
"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."
You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 
"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."
"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."
Robin smiles a sad smile. 
"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."
The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?
"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."
"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."
"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 
"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."
You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.
"If you two are—"
"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 
"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."
Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."
You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 
"This town is so shit," you say. 
"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."
"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."
Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."
"I can sometimes be an asshole."
"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 
You laugh. "We'll get jackets."
"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 
You look at the tape in your hand. 
"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 
"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."
He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 
"I did want to watch this one," you say. 
"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 
You suppose not.
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December 1984
You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.
Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 
Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 
Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.
You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 
A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 
You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.
Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 
"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."
There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 
It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.
Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 
Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 
Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 
No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.
You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 
But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 
You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 
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Now (And Forever)
The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.
It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.
The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 
Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.
That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.
I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.
You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.
I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.
Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 
I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 
But I miss you. I always have.
Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.
I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 
Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 
It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.
I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 
I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.
You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.
Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.
Sincer
Lo
Your friend,
Steve
You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 
You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.
It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.
There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.
You knock on the door three times. And wait.
Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.
The door swings open. 
Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 
“I got your letter,” you say.
“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 
“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”
Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.
“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”
“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”
His brows knit. “What?”
“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”
“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”
“Like a friend?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 
“Always.” 
You squeeze your eyes shut.
“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”
You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—
“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”
And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.
“I missed you,” you confess.
Steve nods against your shoulder.
“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”
“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.
“Hmm?”
You pull back to look at Steve.
“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”
“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”
“We found each other again.”
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Can you write hcs for Luke and a daughter of Hypnos (😴)
PLEASE
🥰
(If possible?)
⋆⭒˚.⋆ luke castellan x daughter of hypno! reader hcs
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content: luke castellan x daughter of hypno! reader hcs warning: so soft you'll puke tho tbh minor mentions of luke's angst author's note: why do i love this more than life itself???? i dunno, you tell me. i kinda wish it was longer but yo girl outta ideas. also, i think im so fucking funny for that last line like hello guys where is my oscar for funniest teen girl to exist????
lukey pookie and his sleepy girl frrrrr
you guys were, like, aware of each other but not like friends, ya know???
until his quest - well, failed quest
he kept having nightmares, horrors of the shame on his father's face, visions of his mother hearing the news had he actually died, terrible dreams of demented dragons and enough golden apples to drown in
chris noticed and suggest luke go see you, hypno's best daughter
chris knew you following a head injury that had him scared he was going to fall into a coma, but the apollo cabin had called you over to sooth his nerves.
you were also often called in when new, younger campers were struggling to sleep, which made the a common but distant face in the hermes cabin
and chris just knew you could do wonders for luke's recent sleep problems
after a little bit of resistance, luke finally went to you
he'd had the worst nightmare yet, leaving him with huge bags under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that he couldn't seem to loose
he figured it quite literally couldn't get any worse, so he knocked on the door of cabin fifteen, already feeling slightly more at peace from just standing outside it
then a pretty girl opened the door, a cute yawn hidden behind her hand
"h-hey! luke, right? what can i do for ya?" you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before beaming a soft smile at the boy
luke choked on nothing, attempting to get words out but his tongue kept getting in the way and all that came out was chortled noises
you giggled softly, unable to keep them in despite the boys growing blush
"i-i- chris, he said- er, something about you being able to help me sleep with you- sorry! no, sleep, just, you know, in general," luke finally managed to spit out, his brain working overtime and the words coming out all wrong
you giggled at the boy once more before leaning forwards and grasping his wrist, tugging him into your cabin
you gestured towards one of the free, fluffy beds, disappearing off to somewhere, though you kept talking to the boy
"chris is really worried about you, ya know. i almost had to visit you, which we don't do very often. here, you want some tea?? lavender or chamomile? i prefer the chamomile but i think you'd like the lavender," you rambled, sitting beside him in the bed criss cross and presenting him with a mug and holding up two separate tea bags
"chamomile's fine," luke replied, taking the teabag from you, not wanting to mention that it reminded him of his mom but it reminded him of his mom
"chamomile's great!" you joked, bumping your shoulder with his
a few minutes passed of just luke drinking the tea and yawning before you mentioned that he should lie down, removing the mug from his hands
he was resistant, admittedly, not wanting to risk seeing more horrible things in his head
but you took his hand into yours, gently running your fingers along the veins and bones that you could just feel through his skin
"you think i'm just here for shits and giggles?? nah, i'm here to fistfight the boogie man. and lemme tell ya, these fists are lethal," you joke, winking at the boy, who laughed, settling into the soft pillows and blanket
but most importantly, he was settling into your presence, the hold you had on his hand, the soothing that your voice did to his brain and heart
and luke fell asleep, peacefully drifting off to the sounds of your hums and the feeling of your soft fingers ghosting over his skin
for the first time in a long while, luke castellan slept like a baby, warm and coddled and trusting that nothing bad could happen to him
not with the defender of REM cycle there
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tan1shere · 14 days
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Look after you
Ellie Williams x female reader !
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A/n: currently in the situation where I was slightly drunk earlier, my ass passed tf out for a good 4 hours 😭 but like I woke up and my head slightly hurts (I found out that I had spilt some of my drink in my hair- it was a night ill say that 😃) and it made me think how Els would be while taking care of her drunk girlfriend. Hope you guys like this regardless, I kinda made this more comforting as I need that right now fr 😔✊🏻
Summary: Ellie taking care of her drunk girlfriend, but why is she even drunk in the first place ?
Warnings: drinking, swearing ? Slight angst in a way ??? Mentions of depression. Just cute fluffyness tho :) - this is set in where they are still in that little town ♡
Masterlist
The smell of alcohol was all that could be smelt in the small bar you and Dina were at. You two decided to go out for the night, the both of you getting absolutely wasted. When Jesse came to pick the both of you up he was shocked at the two of you for drinking so much. "You two are insane." He said as he walked with you guys. "I'm so sane." You'd slur. Which earned a hum from Dina. "I'm going to Ellies, later." You said as you stumbled off. You go over to her little garage of a home, just clumsily opening the door. Everything was spinning, your mind was so dizzy but oh boy did you feel good. As you enter you see Ellie on her bed reading a comic. She looks up at you. "Oh Jesus you look drunk as a skunk." She begins to get up. "I dunno what you're on about." You mumble, heading over to her couch feeling as if your legs were about to give out. She sighs. "Did Dina get this wasted too?" You don't answer only shrug.
She awaits for an answer when she hears giggling, she looks at you slumped on the sofa, laughing like a little weirdo. It only makes her smile tho. "Come on, let's get that makeup off." You look at her as she speaks. "Noo I'm comfortable!" You say, moving slightly on the old couch. "And I'm not taking 'noo' for an answer, I know you. You'll hate yourself in the morning." You groan, but still staying in your spot. "Don't make me come over there." She begins to walk over, when suddenly you feel a presence on top of you. "Ughhh get off." You weakly try to push her, this just makes her laugh. "That's cute. But don't make me have to bring it over here, I'll go into the bathroom and grab those cloths don't put it past me." She puts a finger in your face, you then look at it, going to bite it gently. "Ay!" She exclaims pulling it away. This makes those previous giggles return.
"You're such a fucking menace you know that." You hum as she says that. "You love my menaceness." She shakes her head at you. "That's not even a word, you drunkie." You open your eyes up fully to look at her. "Well I made it one." Ellie rolls her eyes at how silly that statement was, making her laugh once again. She gets up eventually going to leave for the bathroom. "Nawww." "Stop your whining I'll be right back." Your drunken mind finds that funny, starting to smile and giggle as you replay her words in your brain. "You loveeee when I'm whiney." She raises her brows, coming over to you with a warm cloth. "Don't start with me Missy." She says as she sits on the couch, moving your legs so they're resting on her lap. "You didn't deny it." You sing. "If you don't shut up now you really will be whining."
You give her a silly little glare. But it did make you shut up. She begins to bring the face cloth over your makeup, wiping slightly. You being your annoying drunk self goes to swat her hand away. "You little monster." "Hey! I'm not little." You huff, but she ignores all these antics going for your face again. "No. No touching, I'm not even speaking to you right now." Which puts a smile on her face because you were indeed speaking to her. "Is that so? May I know why?" You shake your head. "No, you figure it out since you're so big and smart." You huff again. "Cuz I called you little huh?" You just give her a look. "God you're pleasant when you're drunk." She says sarcastically. "Say you're sorry for calling me short and then you can do whatever it is you were doing." She gives you a be for real look, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. Knowing you are drunk still, just going to do so anyways.
"I'm so very sorry I called you little. There." You ponder for a second. "Nope, didn't say what i told you to." This makes her let out a huff. Earning a cheeky smile on your face. "God you're trouble." "Say it." You giggle. "I am so incredibly sorry that I called you short. Happy?" She says. "Yes very." You could feel the tiredness taking over, she notices. "Come on, let's sit up." She goes to try and get you to do so, making you groan as your head started to hurt from the dizziness. Not long after she was done with taking your makeup off, going into the bathroom to put the cloth on the small railing she had. When you suddenly felt like- "Ellie.." You began. "Yes my drunkie." But she didn't realize you had gone serious as your tone was still slurred. She comes out to look at you. "Baby?" Her brows furrow. "I think I'm gunna-" you don't even need to finish that sentence before she's over there helping you up and into the bathroom where you immediately puke in the toilet.
The groan you let out makes her heart hurt as she knows you hate puking. She holds your hair back as you continue to chuck up your guts, feeling slight tears spring from your eyes. "I hate puking." She gets on the floor with you. "I know babygirl. I'm sorry I got home so late tonight, even tho that doesn't matter I should've gone down to see you." There was a silence as she began to stroke some hair out of your face. "Whyd you drink so much love." She asks softly, you just shrug in return. Honestly you don't know why. You'd been feeling a little off lately and you thought this night with Dina, having some drinks would ease the slight sadness inside you, but if anything it's made you feel worse. "Talk to me sweetheart." That makes you look at her, feeling tears again. This time they were genuinely sad ones, not out of pain from puking.
"I don't know whats wrong with me." You sob, one thing Ellie hates is when you cry, she just wishes she could take that pain away for you. "Nothings wrong with you my girl, nothing." She says, cupping your face gently. "I don't even know why I'm sad, i- I have no reason to be." You hiccup not only from the crying but also from the fact your still just a tiny bit drunk. Which makes her say this. "Why don't we talk about this when you're fully with it yeah? I think you've had a long night and rest is the best thing right now." You nod, agreeing. "I'm going to get you some water ok?" You let out a small mhmmm in understanding. Getting up with her. She walks you over to her bed, carefully laying you down on your side, brushing any loose hair out of your face and making sure your comfortable. She came back with a glass, getting you to sit up a bit and drink it. But you were worried to, as you didn't want to puke again.
"Drink it, please. You lost alot of fluids you need it." You know you do, but it wasn't easy. "I promise you won't puke, why don't you suck on some ice instead." This makes you feel happy inside. "Ice chips?" She smiles at you. "Ice chips." All you wanted was to give her a big hug and a kiss. She truly knew you and you couldn't thank her enough for being such a great girlfriend. "I love you Ellie." She grabs your hand smiling more. "I love you baby. Let me get the ice hm?" You nod softly at her words. As she goes to get it you sit and think. You really didn't know why you were so upset inside lately. Maybe it was the dull weather or another one of your depressive episodes. You did miss Ellie though, she has been so busy lately you feel like you haven't really been with her. Maria always getting her to go on patrols, poor Ellie never has a day off, even if she loves what she does everyone needs a break from time to time.
She comes back over with a tiny bowl and some small ice chunks. "Here you go pretty girl." You thank her going to suck on the first one. She sits on the bed just looking at you admiringly, putting any annoying piece of hair out of your face. "Els?" "Hmm?" She hums gently. "Why don't you have a day off from patrol baby." She softens her look as you say that. "Get Maria to ask someone else, you're always working your ass off." And it all clicked on why you said what you said earlier. "I'm so sorry." You get a bit confused by her apology. "I should've seen you were getting depressed again." That makes you look into your lap fiddling with your hands, but she grabs them. "Look at me baby." And you do. "From now on I'll take the breaks i need and to spend that time with you. I realize I do work alot, and I don't really need to- but I'll tell her that from now on." You nod.
"It worries me Els." She shakes her head. "I don't ever want you to worry about that-" "but it does baby. I see how worn out you are. Take tomorrow off, please?" Which she immediately nods to. "Ofcourse, I was going to anyway. Gotta look after my hungover girl don't I?" You smile at her. "I'm still sorry tho my love. I never ever want you to feel lonely inside, and seeing you cry earlier broke me. I hate seeing you cry." You hold her hand tighter. "I'll be okay, I've got my amazing protector." She smiles big. "Dina." You try not to let out a laugh at Ellies offended face. "I'm kidding I'm kidding." "You better be, I don't see her here looking after you, do you?" You smile more. "No. Ofcourse I meant you silly." She just smiles now. "Ok good, cuz I'm just that amazing." She says, putting her arm up showing her muscle. "And your protector." That makes you laugh more going to punch her arm. "You goofball." She gives you a small glare. "Ow that hurt." She tries to look sad but she immediately laughs, making you join in with her.
Ellie then wipes the left over tears from before. "So it's a plan, no more working overtime when I truly don't need to, and spend all that time with my special girl." Nodding, as you smile. "It's a plan." "Good." She goes to lean into kiss you but you pull back, leaving her stunned. "I have puke breath.." She just lets out a pft noise. "Good God woman, I've watched you pee and crap before, a little puke isn't going to gross me out, not to mention I literally watched you hurl." You playfully roll your eyes. "You're mad." "For you? Fuck yeah." Your smile hasn't been so big in a long time. You were glad to be back. And so was Ellie.
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jessassassin · 2 years
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Sweet Hibiscus Tea ♡♡♡♡
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moralesluvr · 10 months
Note
Helloo✋🏾 I know it’s late af but I just wanted to get this request off my chest lol. May I request a hobie brown x reader where the reader is doing a “don’t kiss me” prank on him? Just a funny thought
'don't kiss me!' prank ft. hobie brown
♡ pairings & aus: hobie brown x fem!black!reader ♡ summary: you see a prank that a girl pulled on her boyfriend from tiktok, so you decide to try it on hobie ♡ warnings: very sad pouty hobie, reader being a bit of a meanie ♡ a/n: i loved writing this! thank you for your request! ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡
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YOU KNEW IT WAS WRONG.
Okay, maybe not exactly wrong, but it was definitely morally cruel.
You had saw the TikTok while you were sitting on the toilet in Hobie's bathroom, chatting with him about any and everything while he showered. You decided to stay at his place because it was late and you had missed him, so you figured you'd just steal some of his clothes and sleepover for a night or two.
When the idea came into your head, you slumped back onto the toilet seat and pretended you were just watching videos about makeup so that Hobie wouldn't be suspicious.
"Can you hand me my flannel, lovie?" He requested, and you sighed at the use of his slang that you've had to pick up over the last six months. You grab his towel and throw it over the curtain rod. You hear him suck his teeth, "Why do you have to be so annoying, eh?"
You hum with a grin, "Dunno. At least I'm not boring."
Hobie pulls the shower curtain back, and you nearly bite your lip.
This challenge was going to be hard.
The towel that you handed him was wrapped firmly around his waist, his chest glistening to the water droplets that reflecting from the bathroom's cheap lighting. He walks over to you, ready to kiss you, but you stand up and cough. "Um...I'm..hungry. Yeah, I needa' snack."
"Did you not just see what I was tryna do?" He almost pouts, following you into the kitchen, "I wanted to kiss 'ya, then you left."
You grab a bag of chips from his pantry, sitting down at one of his island stools, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice."
Hobie hums at you, walking back to his room, "Whatever."
You were sure that you had already made him upset. He wasn't always in a clingy mood- actually, mostly rarely- but when he was, he was upset if he didn't get what he wanted.
And although you did feel like you were being mean, you needed to get the prank on video to show him, and to laugh at later. So you rose from your chair and ran after him into the bedroom. He had on simple black pajama pants and no top, his hair pulled up in a bun. He was fiddling around with his guitar while sitting on his bed, so he didn't even notice when you propped up your phone and pressed record on your video app.
You winked at the camera when you did it, sliding onto the bed with him. He stopped playing.
"So why can't I kiss you?" Hobie asked, "Does my breath smell bad? Swear I just brushed 'em, love, so I know that isn't it."
"It's none of those things," you assure him, tapping your nails on the outskirts of his guitar. Usually he would flip if someone did that, but with you, he didn't really mind.
You saw him lean closer to you, and then his eyes start to close, and you rested your palm on his chest as you pushed him away. He gives you a watery-eyed look, "Okay, Y/N. D-Did I do somethin'? Because you're not wantin' to kiss me at all. Talk to me, yeah? Please?"
His big hands are cupping either of your cheeks as he looks at you intensively, and you can't help but break. You lean in, your lips connecting with his. You expect the kiss to be warm and light, but Hobie had a different motive. His right hand left your cheek as he snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to deepen it. A satisfied sigh leaves you as that same hand finds one of your braids. He twirls it in his fingers, pulling away from you, "So now you want to smooch me, hm? What's the matta'?"
You laugh, your head being thrown back at how humorous the situation was to you. Hobie's straightfaced, though, and he's not laughing when you look up again. You cup his cheek, your other hand pointing to your propped up phone, "Look, baby, it was a prank!"
Hobie gives you a playful slap to the shoulder, "Don't do that again, love, yeah? Was bloody painful."
You laugh, leaning in as you kissed your boyfriend.
"Don't worry, I won't." You smiled.
And maybe you wouldn't deprive him of kisses again, but when the time came, you'd definitely be playing more pranks on him sooner rather than later.
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𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!
𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996
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twoidiotwriters1 · 12 days
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With Luffy!? (Monkey D. Luffy x fem! reader)
A/N: I just need more inspiration! send requests! - Val
Words: 1,130
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A normal day at the Sunny is about to change when it lands on a new mysterious island. Y/N and Zoro are the first to go to the town to get supplies. 
Before the rest could leave the ship, a little boy runs through the low deck. The kid giggles and runs everywhere until he stops in front of the crew and waves his little hand. 
Nami, Usopp, Robin and Chopper stop and stay still as their eyes follow him. 
“Hi!” He smiles and runs again. 
“A kid?” Chopper asks. 
“How?” Then Usopp. 
“Doesn't he look..?” Nami starts. 
“Like Luffy!” Robin smiles. 
*** 
They start with some questions when they catch him. 
“What’s your name, sweetie?” Nami asks with a smile. 
The boy giggles. “You know my name, Auntie Nami.” 
“Where are your parents?” Usopp says next. 
“I dunno,” he shrugs. 
“Are you sick or hurt?” Chopper asks. 
“No needles!” He screams and runs again. 
Now, he enters the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, Sanji exits the kitchen with the kid in his arms. The boy has a bottle of water. 
“Does anybody know where Joy’s parents are?” He asks the others. 
“Joy?” 
“Yeah, that’s his name.” 
Eventually, the others get together, and they all fall in love with the charming boy. Franky decides to make a highchair and immediately, baby-proof the Sunny. Brook starts to play his violin to him and makes funny songs. 
“I can’t help it, he’s really cute!” Nami squeals hugging Joy and pushes him to be cheek against cheek as he giggles. 
“Pretty Auntie Nami,” Joy points at her. 
“And so smart!” 
“Wait,” Usopp says walking to them. “She’s your auntie?” He points at Nami and Joy nods. “Who is she?” Usopp points to Robin. 
“Auntie Lobin.” 
“Okay so, the mother’s not here and we can’t ask where he came from or his birthday.” 
“Am fou,” Joy says raising four fingers. 
“Oi, Sanji! I’m hungry!” Luffy yells jumping and landing on deck. 
“Dadda!” Joy squirms in Nami’s arms to run to his dad. The kid holds Luffy’s leg and giggles “Hi, dadda!” 
“Uh—hi?” 
“I’ve never thought to live long enough to see Luffy with his son… Even though I’m already dead!” Brook laughs. 
“My what!?” 
The kitchen’s full of laughs from the crew and the little boy as Luffy keeps making silly faces, stretching his face, and playing with his food to make Joy laugh too. Of course, Joy loves his dad’s and crew’s attention. After a while, little Joy boy yawns and scratches his eyes.  
“I sleepy,” he pouts. “Wan’ my Mommy.” 
The crew share a tense look not knowing what to do. 
“Dad,” Luffy looks at him. “Wers Mamma?” 
“Uh—she’s...” 
“We’ve arrived!” You yell from outside. 
Joy turns his head to the door and squirms trying to get out of the highchair. Luffy frowns and helps him. 
“Mamma?” He says leaving the kitchen. The crew follow him. When the kid sees you, he smiles and runs to you raising his little arms. “Mamma!” You frown down at him as he keeps jumping “Up! Up! Pwease!” You let down the shopping bags and carry the strange kid.  
He holds you by the neck, leans to rest his head on your shoulder as he sucks his thumb and closes his tired eyes. 
“Awwww,” the crew sing at the cute scene. 
You look at them confused. 
“We leave you alone and you kidnap a kid?” Zoro asks completely lost. “And...” He leans to see the peaceful kid. “One that looks like Luffy?” 
“It’s a long story,” Robin says. 
“Has anybody else heard Joy say ‘mamma’ to Y/N?” Usopp asks carefully. 
“Joy?” You ask. 
“Hmm?” The boy leans back to look at you.  
“Oh,” You understand it. 
“Night-night?” He asks. 
“Uh—okay” You look at the crew waiting for an answer, but they all shrug. “Fine, I’ll put him to bed,” You walk to your shared room. “Wait, did you call me mamma?” 
*** 
“All right, he’s asleep. Now, explain,” you point at the others. 
“Luffy's son and mine!?” You squeal. “What? How? Why? When?” You look at Luffy and he only smiles. 
When Joy wakes up again, he says he wants to play with his uncles. More specific, with Zozo, Uso, Faky, Saji, Book and Fluffy (Chopper). Luffy pouts when Joy doesn’t mention him, but you take the chance to talk to him. 
“Why aren’t you freaking out? 
“‘Cuz I like him,” he smiles. 
“Luffy, please. You need to think about this. He’s a little boy, our little boy.” 
“Yeah, I know that. And I think it’s awesome,” he points to the low deck, where Joy’s playing tag with his uncles. “I know he looks like me, but he also does the scrunchy nose thing when he smiles, like you do.” 
“What?” 
“Yeah, and he looks like you when he pouts. Oh! He caresses my cheek like you do when we’re alone and I think you two have the same eyes.” 
The truth is that when you joined the crew, you couldn’t help but think about your captain differently. But the time showed you that Luffy doesn’t care or think about having a relationship beyond crew mate with anybody. 
Besides, that was a long time ago. 
That’s why you can’t believe (if Joy’s from the future) that you’ll have a kid with Luffy. But his words did affect you and moved so many things inside you, and, of course, you can’t deny that your kid is the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. 
“Luffy?” 
“Yeah?” 
“Do you know how to make a baby?” 
He frowns. “Uh… yeah. Why? 
“Just curious,” You walk away with a blush on your cheeks. 
“Les go night-night again!” Joy says holding Luffy’s hand. 
“Joy, wait. Dad has to sleep in his own room,” You stop him when he guides both of you to your room. 
“Good night, kiddo’,” Luffy says and walks away, but the cry of his son makes him stop in his tracks. 
You quickly carry him in your arms. “What’s wrong?” You ask him. 
“Dadda come night-night with mommy an me!” He yells pointing at Luffy. 
*** 
“Good night, Kiddo” 
“Night-night, Dadda, night-night Mommy.” 
“Sweet dreams, baby,” you kiss his cheek. 
You had to move Nami’s bed and put it next to yours so that all three could fit in. Although Luffy and Joy are fast asleep, for you it takes more time. You watch them as the moonlight shines through the room. 
You smile as Luffy moves and groans in his sleep, facing you and Joy. His arm moves and stretches enough to hug both of you closer to him. It’s quite crazy knowing that you’ll have a kid with Luffy, but you can’t deny that you could get used to it… anytime. 
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ayeyolooo · 8 months
Text
BREAK UP PRANK!
Summary: you and your boyfriend has a YouTube channel and you decide to prank him.
WARNINGS!!:CUSSING ANDDDD IDK? LMKK IF I MISSED SOMETHING<3
The reader is a thick reader. She has a pudge and thick thighs. She’s written as a black female, the n word may be used. Please excuse my grammatical errors Enjoy <3.
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“Hiii my loves!! Ony is in the shower right now,and I thought now would be a good time to prank Ony back.” You said looking at your hair through the cameras screen. “He thought that it would be funny to prank me with that lil eyelash prank.” You said rolling your eyes and laughing. “He got me,but I’m Finna get him back real good.” You said showing off your muscles.’ “Okay yall I think that I heard the shower turn off,I’m going to set the camera up! Ony I just wanna let you know that I would never ever leave you,and that you’re my baby and I love you so much!” You said kissing the camera before turning it off and finding a good place to sit the camera. After you clicked record you ran to your closet, your feet thudding against the wood as you ran. You took your biggest suitcase out and placed it on your bed.
Ony walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His head jerked back as he seen you grabbing your clothes from your shared closet and walking them to your luggage. “Whatchu doing mama?” He asked with a concerned tone. You just ignored him. “Y/n?” He called out. He just sighed before walking to the closet to get something to wear. He walked out of the closet with his grey sweatpants and no shirt.
“Mama what’s wrong what are you doing?” He asked gently taking your hand. You snatched it away from him as he sighed. Ony was extremely patient with you, and understanding. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.” You said,he just looked at you. “Okay so stop putting your clothes in there?” He said with an obvious tone. “Haha Nigga you real funny.” You said mugging him,as you continued to place your clothes neatly in your suitcase. “I don’t want to be with you anymore.” You said looking up at him.
He jerked his head back and licked his lips before nodding. “Maybe you need some time to breathe imma leave you alone. Just talk to me when you got some damn sense cause you know good and well you not leaving me.” Ony said walking out of your room. You laughed at the camera as Ony came walking back in the room. “Okay ma,just talk to me. I dunno what I did,tell me so that I can fix it.” Ony said taking your clothes and placing them back inside of the closet. “Nigga what are you doing?” You said snatching your clothes from him. His tatted hand wrapped around your throat.
“Ma,I’m trying my best to be patient with you. And you won’t talk to me,I don’t know what I did if you tell me maybe can talk like the grown ass people we is.” He said making your lower region become a drummer. You looked away as his hand was still around your throat. He turned your head to look at him. “What’s wrong?” He asked softly.
“I said that I don’t wanna be witchu no more.” You shrugged placing your clothes back in your suitcase this time trying to close it. “Why?” He simply asked. “Because you literally never make time for me. It’s always YouTube, and you playing your game.” You simply said. “Bae what you talking bout I do spend time with you.” He said furrowing his eyebrows. “Well it’s not enough.” You said.
He sighed. “Y/n don’t make me shut you up.” Ony said making your face hot. “Nigga shut the fuck up you always bark and no bite.” He just nodded and licked his lips as he smiled. “Aii y/n.” He simply said walking out of the room. You pursed your lips with a smile before you tan to the camera and out of the room to follow behind Ony. “Baeeee,it was a prank.” You said laughing from behind the camera.
He was on the phone. “Mmhm momma she said that I don’t ever spend time with her.” Ony said talking to your mom. “OUU NO SHE DIDNT!” your mom said on the other side of his phone. “Mmhm ma,can you speak some sense into her?” You shook your head laughing. “Y/NNNN YOUR MOMMA ON THE PHONE!” Ony yelled out as you walked out to him with pursed lips. “Ion know why you laughing y/n ain’t nothing funny.” Ony said shoving the phone up to your ear. “You just remained quiet. “Ma, she not saying nothing.” You just held back from laughing.
“Say hello y/n.” Ony said doing that black momma lip thing. You rolled your eyes. “Hello?” You asked smiling. “Girl whatchu doing to the man?” Your mom asked. “Ma,it was a prank.” You said rolling your eyes. “He is a good man y/n.” You just rolled your eyes. “Keep rolling em y/n.” Ony said lowly. “Okay maaa.” You said trying to get off of the phone. “Don’t rush me off of the phone.” She said with an attitude, “now leave that poor boy alone before I come out there and whoop your ass.” Ony just stood laughing silently at you getting scolded by your mom. “Now get off my phone.” Your momma said hanging up.
You just rolled your eyes at him and grabbed the camera. “Y’all he can’t take a joke.” You said rolling your eyes. “You right,I can’t take a joke when my baby momma bout to leave me.” Ony said wrapping his hands around your waist and tucking his head into your neck. “Boy ian pregnant.” Ony just smiled. “Yet.” He said flashing off his pearly white teeth. “Boy move.” You said laughing and walking away from him.
As you were walking away you felt a stinging pain on your butt. “OUCH ONY!” You said holding your butt. “Ha.”you just side eyed him before mumbling “I’m gonna break up with yo ass.” And walking to the kitchen. “Break up with who?? Cause I know you not talking to me,cause I know that you’re not talking about nathanyards.” Ony said said pointing to himself. “Bitch ass Nigga.” You said walking to your room.
You felt a tug on your hair. “Watch yo mouth.” He said with a serious expression on his face,making your face go hot. “I’ll say it again.” You said mugging him. “Do it, I dare you.”
“Bitch.ass.Nigga.” You said clapping with each word. “Oh Ight y/n.” Ony said picking you up,and you let out a yelp. He walked to the bedroom and closed the door with his foot. “Okay baby I was just playing.” You said
“Nah ion wanna hear Ts.” He said throwing you on the bed and climbing ontop of you.
Hiii,did you like ittt? 😊 if you did I’m happy that you did. You all can request anything and I’ll be sure to write it for you :) until my next post byee babies🫶🏽🫶🏽
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bingwriterxo · 10 months
Text
childhood friends
pairing: vada cavell x reader
summary: in which you and vada grow up together, and here are some snippets
warnings: parents fighting, persistent man
word count: 2700+
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You were seven when Vada pushed her way into your life unexpectedly. 
Your mother had taken you to the local playground, sick and tired of having you bouncing off the walls inside the house, and you immediately ran toward the swing set, intent on getting higher than you ever had before. You were settling into one of the seats, fingers gripping the metal chains, when you felt hands on your back and you were suddenly flying forward from the small shove, landing on the wood chips below that cut into your knees. 
"Hey!" you cried, twisted around where you had fallen and staring up at the girl who had pushed you. She was short and didn't look like she should've been strong enough to have shoved you, but she was sticking her tongue out at you, so you knew it was her. "What was that for?"
"Just 'cause," she said before slipping into the swing that you had been sitting on. She started pumping her legs a bit, but she wasn't getting much air.
You scrambled to stand, afraid of getting hit by one of her feet and angry at the fact that she had stolen your rightful place, and brushed yourself off. To combat both of these feelings, you walked up to her, placed your hands on your shoulders, and pushed her backwards, smiling when she thudded on the ground and let out an, "Oof!"
"What was that all about?" she asked you from the ground.
"You did it to me first!" you argued, pointing at her with narrowed eyes. 
She huffed and stood, not bothering to wipe away the stray wood chips on her t-shirt. From that close, you could see the array of freckles that decorated her face, and, for a fleeting moment, thought that they looked just like stars in the night sky. But then your anger came rushing back to you and you shook away your thoughts, staring at her with furrowed eyebrows.
"It's not nice to push people off swings," you said. "Mama told me that."
"But you just did!" 
"Mama also told me that fair's fair," you huffed.
She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded you for a moment with a frown. Then, her gaze softened and she sighed. "Fine. Whatever."
You weren't really sure what to do then as you stood in front of the girl, who stared back at you. It seemed like she didn't know what to do either. You thought for a moment and then let out a resigned sigh.
"Why don't we take turns," you suggested, "since all of the other swings are taken."
She glanced around quickly and then nodded. "Okay, but I want to go first."
You rolled your eyes as best as you could. "Fine."
She grinned and climbed onto the swing, twisting around to look at you. "Could you push me? I can never get very high," she said. 
You grumbled but did it anyway. She still didn't get very high, but she was giggling and laughing, so you figured you were doing a pretty good job. When it was your turn, she very un-elegantly clambered off the swing and stood to the side, watching as you pumped your legs until you had a steady rhythm.
"How do you do that so well?" she asked.
"I dunno, just do," you said.
She huffed, and then when you decided you had had enough, you dragged your shoe into the wood chips, slowing yourself down. You stayed sitting and looked to the girl. 
"What's your name, anyway?" you asked. "So I can tell my mom who made my knees all icky." You pointed down to the scrapes you had, and the girl's eyes followed.
"Oh," she said. "Sorry."
"'S okay," you said. "You didn't answer my question."
She blinked back at you, and then said, "My name's Vada."
"That's a funny name," came your immediate response, and suddenly her hands were on your shoulders and you were laying on your back in the wood chips, staring up at the sky. Your view was blocked as the girl's head hovered above you, her hair hanging down like a dark curtain. 
"That wasn't nice," she told you.
"Okay," you said, sitting up. "Sorry."
"'S okay," she mimicked, and you could tell she had never said that phrase in that way before because she stuttered over the words. "What's your name?"
"Y/N."
She nodded. "Okay. Wanna play tag?"
You nodded right back. "Sure."
* * *
You were eleven when you showed up at Vada's house in the middle of the night.
Your parents had been fighting in the kitchen, their voices carrying throughout the small house and into your bedroom, where you had been laying in your bed with the covers pulled over your head to block out the sound. When that didn't work, and their argument only seemed to get louder, you slipped out from beneath your blanket and shuffled to your closet, pulling a sweatshirt off its hanger and sliding into a pair of sneakers. You had propped open your window, snuck out of it, and ran the full way to Vada's house, which luckily was only a couple streets away. 
When you arrived, you knocked softly on Vada's bedroom window, hoping that she was awake. In just a few seconds, her curtains were being pulled aside and her face appeared, darkness shrouding her, but she was visible from the street lamp that shed light into her bedroom. She popped the window open.
"What're you doing here?" she asked quietly. 
You glanced down at your feet, which were digging into the dirt, and said, "My parents are fighting."
She sighed. "Again?" You nodded, and she said, "Okay, get in here." 
You were quick as you climbed through her window, careful not to mess up her display of Lego sets as you did. When you were fully inside, you kicked your shoes off and looked up at the brunette, who was watching you with sad eyes. 
"Are you okay?" she asked, and even though there was that strange ache in your chest that only ever appeared when your parents fought, you nodded. "Okay. What now?"
"I dunno," you said with a shrug. "You got your mom's old laptop for your birthday, right?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Why?"
"We should watch a movie or something."
"Oh, good idea!" Vada took you by the hand and led you to her bed, letting you get in it first before she followed. She grabbed the laptop from her nightstand and set it on her lap, turning it on. 
You watched the loading screen for a moment before sinking further into the mattress and leaning your head on Vada's shoulder, stomach stirring a little at the warmth that she gave off. You felt her tense beneath you for just a second before she relaxed, but you didn't mention it. Instead, you asked, "What movie are we going to watch?"
"I'm not sure yet. There's a few I've been wanting to see. Like..." The girl rambled on and on about the movies she hadn't seen yet, even when the computer was fully booted up and ready to go, and you simply listened, slowly being lulled to sleep by her voice. You barely registered the fact that she had stopped until she asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"
You hummed sleepily. "Yeah, Vads." You both ignored the nickname that slipped out. 
"You don't have to be okay, you know that, right?" You could feel her shift beneath you as she got more comfortable. "And you can always talk to me, okay?"
"Okay, Vada," you said. "Thank you."
* * * 
You were fourteen when you realized you had feelings for Vada.
You woke up one morning to the sight of Vada in your bed, who was still asleep with her mouth slightly open and hair splayed out against your pillow, and that familiar stirring started in your stomach that you quickly recognized as butterflies, and your cheeks heated up and you thought, Oh fuck. 
You tried to scramble out of your bed as fast as you possibly could, but your foot got caught in your sheet and you ended up falling to the ground with a heavy thud, waking the brunette in your bed. She sat up, confused both from the noise and the fact that you weren't anywhere in sight, until she noticed the sheet pulled taut in the corner of the bed.
"Are you--Did you fall out of your bed?" she asked as she peeked her head to look at you. She laughed at the sight of you on the floor, holding onto your elbow which had hit the wood harder than the rest of you. 
"Kind of..." you said, staring up at her with teary eyes. She just laughed harder, and you blushed but found yourself giggling along with her.
"How the fuck did you fall out of your bed?" she asked when she had calmed down enough to form real words. 
You stood on wobbly legs and trained your gaze on literally anything other than the brunette. "I don't know. I just...did?" 
She rolled her eyes softly and smiled. The butterflies fluttered harder in your stomach. "You're, like, the clumsiest person I know."
You scoffed. "Says you!"
Vada pulled herself up onto her knees and waddled toward you. "Let's not be rude, now."
"Vads, you literally tripped over your own foot yesterday and face planted into the asphalt," you said, which the brunette didn't need to be reminded of because she still had the bruised nose to prove it. 
"Shut up!" she whined, throwing herself at you. She wrapped her arms around your neck and flopped backward, pulling you down onto the mattress with her. You threw your hands out so that you wouldn't land fully on top of her, and then gulped at the compromising position you found yourself in. 
You, hovering above Vada, who was grinning widely beneath you. You held your breath as you watched her eyes flicker between your own eyes and your lips, and when she started to lean up, you pushed away.
"My mom's making waffles," you said quickly. "In the kitchen. I can smell them."
You watched as she pouted a bit before sitting up, raising her arms above her head to stretch. You swallowed hard at the slight skin that showed on her stomach before it was covered by her t-shirt again. She scratched at the top of her head as she said, "Okay. Let's go then."
You followed behind her slowly, eyes trained on your feet, and tried not to think about the fact that Vada was leaning in to kiss you just a minute prior. 
* * *
You were sixteen when Vada kissed you for the first time. 
Mia Reed was throwing a party, and people were swarming her house as soon as the door was officially declared open. You and Vada were no exception as the brunette begged you to go, saying that you owed her. For what, you weren't exactly sure, but you said yes as soon as Vada gave you the puppy-dog eyes. 
The two of you were standing in the kitchen, plastic solo cups in hand filled with whatever-the-hell liquor Mia had sitting on the counter, and simply talking--or shouting, because of the music that was booming throughout the house. 
"I'm gonna zip to the bathroom really fast," Vada told you at some point, and you nodded, telling her you'd be fine on your own for two minutes. She narrowed her eyes at you like she didn't believe you, but you giggled and shoved her shoulder.
Almost as soon as you were alone, a new body slotted into the place that was once Vada's. You glanced up, grimacing a bit as you realized it was Jack, one of the players on the football team. He was offering you a sly grin that you were sure was charming to other girls.
"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, and you could smell the beer on his breath. You crinkled your nose but still responded, because who were you if not polite.
"Hi, Jack," you said, giving him your own tiny smile. He lit up at the sight of it, taking it as a sign to get even closer to you. 
"You know, I've always though you were gorgeous," he claimed. It made you want to throw up.
"Oh." You chuckled awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."
He nodded. "Sure." He took a sip from the can in his hand and then looked back down at you. "A few of my buddies and I are gonna go back to my place after this. You should come," he offered. You didn't miss the way his eyes ran down your body, lingering a little too long on your chest. 
You shook your head. "Sorry, but I have other plans." You didn't, not really, although you were almost sure Vada would end up dragging you to her house to watch movies, and there was no way in hell you were missing out on that, especially for some jock you weren't even remotely attracted to. 
"Oh, come on. It'll be fun." He pushed into you a bit more, and you tried to back up, but you were cornered. "And, maybe you and I could...spend a little time alone or something."
"I'm okay." You flashed him your best smile and then tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him.
He smiled, sort of, but it looked like more of a snarl to you. "I'll try this again. You and me, after this party."
"Jack, I said--"
"I'm pretty sure she said no, dude," a familiar voice said from behind Jack. You glanced past him to see Vada standing there, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at her lips. Your heartbeat quickened at the sight.
Jack twisted to stare at the brunette. "Whatever, Cavell. Get out of here." He turned back to you. "Now, as I was saying--"
He was interrupted by Vada, again. "Leave her alone, Cofferey," she scoffed. 
"Bro, back the fuck off--" Jack began as he turned around fully to snap at her, but he was cut off by her fist against his cheek. 
"Oh, fuck!" Vada cried, shaking her hand out. "That hurt a lot more than it looks like it does in movies!" 
You quickly moved past Jack  and wrapped your hand around Vada's waist, dragging her away from the kitchen before the boy could recover and beat her up. You pulled her into a random bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you, locking it just in case he decided to follow, though by the lack of pounding against the wood, you guessed that he was far too drunk to bother. 
"Are you okay?" you both asked at the same time. Vada chuckled a bit before saying, "I'm fine, although I think I bruised my hand." She glanced at her knuckles and opened her hand a bit. "Eh, whatever." She looked up at you. "Are you okay?"
You sighed. "Yeah. I'm fine."
She tilted her head. "Y/N..."
"Don't worry, Vads. Really, I'm fine." You walked toward her and took her injured hand in your own, inspecting it. "Yeah, you're definitely gonna bruise," you laughed.
"Well, I'll have a cool story to tell my mom, then," she joked.
You looked at her and smiled. "Thanks, for doing that. You didn't have to."
She shrugged. "He was bothering you. What was I supposed to do? Just watch it happen? No, that's dumb."
"Yeah, but still. Your hand's gonna hurt for a while."
"It was worth it."
"Was it?" You chuckled. "I don't know about th--"
Before you could even finish your thought, Vada's lips were pressed against your own. You were taken by surprise, not kissing back for a moment, and the brunette pulled away quickly, panic in her eyes.
"I'm sorry!" she squeaked. "I should've asked. That was stupid. And you probably don't even want to kiss me 'cause, you know, we're best friends. And, oh god, that was so dumb! I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinking! You just look so pretty all worried and I just--"
This time it was your turn to shut her up. You cut off her rambling by pulling her in by the waist and kissing her softly, giving her a moment to catch up with what was happening. She immediately relaxed against you, lips moving against your own eagerly. 
You pulled away with a laugh when she tried to deepen it, and her eyes fluttered open softly. "At least I know how to shut you up now," you giggled.
She gasped. "That is so rude!"
You rolled your eyes, pulling her close again. "Oh, shush, Vads." 
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justafewsmallsteps · 4 months
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omg omg it’s @inuvember day 19: Inuyasha & Kagome
I didn’t have anything planned so I threw this together quickly. Here’s some super rushed and rough art and a drabble from an AU I’d like to call “What If (we made out all over Feudal Japan)?” where… well…… I think you get it.
What If?
Kagome sucked in her lips, biting down on them from inside with nervous uncertainty. He wasn’t doing well. 
If a quick kiss worked to heal him, just a little bit, then… What would a longer kiss do? Work the same? Work better? 
“C-can I try… the thing?” she asked. 
“Kiss me?” He asked, barely able to focus on her. 
“You lost so much blood, and the poison is–”
“I’m human, I dunno if it’ll work.” 
“I know, but I have to try something.” She was blinking back her tears.
Even blinking felt like work. “Yeah… okay.” 
Kagome bent down and turned his face gently to hold it with a trembling hand. 
Please let this work, she thought desperately as her lips settled over his chapped ones. Instead of pulling away quickly as she did the times before, she lingered, pressing a little harder too. Please work, please work, please work. 
Tears fully glossing her eyes, Kagome finally pulled back just a little. She clung painfully onto the bit of hope in her heart. 
“Anything?” She whispered as a heavy drop fell. 
“I dunno… but that was… nice,” he sighed. 
She pouted, voice thickened by a stuffy nose from crying. “You said it was gross to kiss me.” 
Inuyasha furrowed his brow, like he was trying to remember. “Sorry. That… was a lie…” 
A blush erupted onto her face. Was that…? Was he being sweet? “Oh god, you’re delirious aren’t you? You’re–” 
“Kagome,” he interrupted. “I think…” 
She heard a light scratch at the floor and saw his hand shift. “You can move?” she gasped, the hope suddenly bursting. 
“Yeah, I’m starting to get some feeling back. I think it worked a little.” 
Kagome practically leapt back onto him, kissing him fiercely with both hands cupping his cheeks. She pulled back and kissed him again and again until she felt him grip her arms. 
“Woah there, Kagome.” 
She only moved back a few inches. “It worked, right? So—“ 
His face was redder than his haori. Hers follows his example. 
“Yeah,” he mumbled, pushing himself to sit up slightly. “It’s working, alright.” 
Clearly the numbness was fading and her tactics were effective. That didn’t ease their embarrassment. 
She nearly huffed, “What’s the problem?” 
“Just give it a minute. No amount of kissing is going to turn me back into a hanyou, so we’re still screwed until sunrise.” 
“I’m still mad at you about that. You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me with that much! Now we’re here.” She wanted to shout, but with Shippou and Nazuna sleeping in the corner, she kept her words to an angry hush. Still, the overwhelmed tears caught his attention. 
He pursed his lips. “Why were you—are you—crying?” 
Kagome let out an indignant sound. “Because I’m frustrated and scared! I thought you were going to die, I thought we all were going to die. We still might. This sucks!” It was a childish way to end her sentiment, but screw it! It did suck! 
“Why… did you kiss me?” 
She almost sputtered. “Because I need you to get better!” 
“To save you?”
“To not die, you idiot! I don’t want you to die! Obviously!” She scrubbed her face angrily. Why was he being so weird? 
Then he spoke, soft but firm, “One more.” 
Kagome blinked. “One more what?” 
“Time,” Inuyasha said, and without warning pulled her closer to lock their mouths together. 
And he was right. 
It was nice… His lips have warmed up, even though they’re dry and rough. It’s the first time that this feels mutual–not just contact between two bodies. It feels almost like this is real…
“Sorry,” Inuyasha muttered when they came apart. “I still couldn’t feel my toes.” 
Funny, since Kagome felt hers tingling—her toes to her spine, to her fingertips, to the very top of her head. 
She felt out of breath when she asked him, “Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah,” his hand came up to her cheek. “I can feel things again.”
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greyhavenisback · 1 year
Note
Teen wolf prompt: Stiles didn’t know they were dating, he thought Derek was straight.
Thanks for the prompt, anon! I, uh - this was meant to be funny but I sort of made myself cry with it? Anyway, have some emotions!
*
"Are you ever going to kiss me?" Derek blurts out. He's not prone to blurting things out but he's been holding this one in for months and he has to know. Once he knows, then maybe he can put it to rest.
Stiles stares at him like he's grown another head. Derek tries to sink into the floor.
Stiles keeps staring. His mouth is opening and closing like a goldfish but no words are coming out.
Because - what?
WHAT?
He's wanted to kiss Derek for years. Literal years. Since he was 16 and wanted to kiss everyone. Or at least anyone who was offering. And now he's 22 and he's kissed - well, ok, not a lot of people but enough, ok? He's happy with his number. The kissing number and the other number.
But Derek?
Derek's straight.
Or at least Stiles thought he was. Right up until 33 and a half seconds ago.
Now, all of a sudden, a few slightly odd things are starting to make a whole lot more sense.
Coincidentally, Stiles is having a few problems remembering how to breathe. The two are not linked.
(The two very much are linked.)
"I'm sorry. Sorry," Derek says, desperately trying to salvage what has turned into a terrible situation. "I didn't mean - I thought - I didn't mean to put that pressure on you and -" He's rambling now, in a manner Stiles would be proud of, and he closes his mouth with a snap.
Stiles runs through things in his head.
First up, remember how to breathe. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. Repeat. Good. That's done. Breathing again.
Second up and he's back to WHAT?
Because sure, he and Derek have been friends and there's been some mutual banter and maybe some flirtation and there's definitely been a hint or two (maybe more than two) of some nice unresolved sexual tension but it's never gone beyond that. Derek has never even asked him out.
Except -
Well -
Derek helped him move to college. And he came to visit. Several times. Stiles even thought he saw Derek lurking at his graduation but he wasn't entirely sure and Derek didn't come to congratulate him or anything.
And then -
Since he's been back from college, Derek has actually asked him out. At least once a week, usually more. But it's been for stuff like grabbing dinner at the diner or going to watch a movie or watching the latest show on Netf-
Oh.
Derek has been asking him over to Netflix and chill and Stiles has always just assumed Derek doesn't understand the connotations behind that phrase.
Oh.
He's been dating Derek Hale.
For at least four months. Possibly longer.
And Stiles didn't even know.
Oh no.
He face palms himself. Hard.
(Too hard, that actually really hurts.)
"Why didn't you say anything?" he says.
Derek shrugs. "I...didn't want to put any pressure on you."
"But you could've said, I dunno, like, will you go on a date with me, instead of asking me on ambiguous outings like going to the diner!"
"What did you think I meant by Netflix and chill and a winking emoji? You know I hate emojis!"
"I thought you were sweet and innocent and uncorrupted and didn't know what it meant!"
Derek snorts out a breath of laughter. "Well I'm not."
Stiles groans. This is a fuck up of epic proportions and it's mostly his fuck up. "Derek, how long have we been dating?"
Derek scratches the back of his neck and looks awkward. "I bought you that huge box of candy, after the FBI raid -"
"- yeah, when I got my toe shot off, I remember, I thought you were just saying thanks for saving your life."
"Well I wasn't."
"Well I know that now!" Stiles takes a deep breath and scrubs through his hair. "So four years. We've been dating for four years and in all that time, you've never once asked me for anything. Not a kiss. Not sex. Not any sort of reciprocation. You've watched me go away to college -"
"And come back," Derek interrupts.
"You've waited for me for all that time." Stiles' eyes are stinging now. His breath is catching in his chest. "You've - Derek, I told you about the people I was dating in college. I told you - why would you -"
"You needed time and space to grow."
"Oh my god." Stiles throws himself at Derek with a desperate sob, and hugs him so tightly that Derek's ribs creak under his grip. "You're the most perfect, beautiful, adorable -" he punctuates each word with a kiss to Derek's cheek "- man I've ever met."
Derek's cheeks turn an interesting shade of red, just visible above his stubble line. "Than- thank you."
"You are also a fucking idiot," Stiles says into Derek's shoulder. Now he's got hold of him, he's not planning on letting him go any time soon. "You must have been hurting so badly and I'm not worth that."
"I think you are."
Stiles runs out of words, then. He kisses Derek instead, trying to pour all the words he doesn't have into one display of emotion. He tries to say I'm sorry. And I love you. And please don't do that again. And thank you. And thank you for telling me.
He never knows if it works. If Derek understands what he's trying to say with that first kiss.
But what he does know is that he's never going to stop kissing Derek. Not for the rest of his life.
*
Sterek tags -
@ohhalefire @teencopandthesourwolf @blue-eyedbeta @halinski @fairytales-and-folklore @kikiroo @youreastargirl @princecharmingwinks @raisesomehale @rosieposiepuddingnpie @savileho @fanfics-fix @nerdherderette @jmeelee
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kyojurismo · 8 months
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★ — katsuki as your boyfriend !
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character : katsuki bakugo
tags : gn!reader, fluff, katsuki is soft w his s/o, tiny bit of jealousy, mention of insecurities ( nothing too serious ), all characters mentioned are aged up to 18+, not proofread.
notes : i was a bit unsure about posting it, also because i’m struggling a lot lately and it was way better in my head. but anyway, we’re here. i got a lil carried away, but hope you guys will enjoy it !! <3 + tagging my sweet @doumadono ^_^
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katsuki noticed you at the beginning of high school
he knew you were strong and didn’t mind having you in his team
it was it that helped you two grow closer to each other
he started to feel more towards the end of second year
when you happened to mention how you went on a date with someone from 2-B, katsuki would feel . . . jealousy. it wasn’t rational though, you two were good friends and classmates
you were confused by him getting all grumpy when you talked about your date with tetsutetsu to mina and eijiro. bakugo scoffed and made harsh comments about how it was stupid of you to go out with someone like him
“he doesn’t have a brain, why wasting time with someone like him? thought you were smarter than this.”
it hurt, not gonna lie. but mina comforted you and sent a glare to katsuki
when katsuki acknowledged his feelings, you were seeing someone and he couldn’t help but feel jealous
but also stupid
what if there wasn’t another chance?
when you came back to the dorm, he noticed you were crying. he clenched his fists and wanted to know about everything that happened. that’s why he walked to you and asked about what was wrong, pretending he didn’t know you went on a date
“don’t worry, bakugo…” you wiped away your tears, trying to put on a happy face so he wouldn’t worry too much. oh, if you only knew. “bullshit.”
you were surprised by the stern look on his face, he wasn’t judging you for going out, there weren’t harsh comments as always. he looked genuinely concerned about you crying.
“you… i went… damn kirishima wanted to eat something, so we bought ice cream and shit like that,” he started, looking a bit embarrassed. well, that was new. “do you want something?” he offered then, trying to act cool. you stared at him for a couple of seconds in silence, studying his unusual behaviour.
it’s not that bakugo never cared about you, it’s only that he would usually brush it off with a told ya and go on with his activities. but now, it was different. bakugo was actually taking care of you.
“y-yeah… can we eat it together?” you tried, testing how far he would go.
needless to say, bakugo ate ice cream with you and listened to everything that went wrong on the date
it was a real surprise when you caught him arguing with your date, spatting harsh comments and insults while kirishima held him back the best he could to avoid a real fight between the two
katsuki blushed as he noticed you staring at him and acted as if nothing happened when you asked for an explanation
“i dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he grunted, sitting in his seat. his eyes never meeting yours, not even for a second
you swore his cheeks were turning pink but you let him be, you couldn’t exactly force him to say it
bakugo was around you more than before, always checking on you and making sure you were doing alright
he acted more calm around you, rarely raising his voice
you two started dating out of nowhere
“go out with me,” he looked right into your eyes, his red eyes burning into yours. “what?” you raised your eyebrows, gripping your textbook tightly. “out with me. y’know… out?!” he huffed, hoping you would get it and say yes. “like, on a date?” you tilted your head to the side. “whatever you call it.”
his cheeks and the tip of his ears were red now, as katsuki looked away. he was sitting in front of you on your bed, you two were studying together for one of your final exams.
“answer me!” he barked, visibly nervous. you couldn’t help but chuckle at that, finding his behaviour funny and adorable. “you’re cute,” you told him instead, making him groan in annoyance. “j-just answer me or i’ll blow you up!” katsuki at his finest.
you just laughed more at that, because he was all red and embarrassed. katsuki stared at you with a hard expression before finding solace in your carefree mood. you were laughing because of him, he was the one making you feel like that. it felt good, realising it now.
katsuki found every opportunity to take you out on a date, spend as much time together as he could — without including the others
he spoiled you, always trying to gift you something and cooking for you all the time
katsuki really wanted to ask you to start dating properly, but there was always something that got in the way
that’s why you found yourself asking him instead
he didn’t mind though, because he got to kiss you as a yes and he realised he had been craving your lips for a while now
you two have been together for a while, but started dating properly for like a couple of months
katsuki secretly loves holding your hand
but what he craves more is physical contact
he will often grab your arm and pull you closer, just because he wants to feel your body close to his
he kisses your forehead a lot, along with your chin and neck. he likes teasing you about how tensed up you get when he does it
fight me on this but he sometimes bite your cheeks, he usually does it when you’re talking about some part of your body and saying bad things
not in his presence. don’t say anything like that. never.
katsuki has a job & that job is reminding you that you’re perfect like this
we all know he would have eyes for you only. well– you and being the best hero, hehe
would often fall asleep on your chest if you’re busy doing something ( reading, on a phone call, etc. )
and loves when you’re the one falling asleep on him
katsuki has the habit to cup your cheeks and kiss you deeply out of nowhere, before resuming whatever he was doing as if nothing while you’re there needing a moment to process what just happened
he’s both the big and small spoon, depends on the mood really
katsuki gifts you his clothes sometimes,
like, “this t-shirt is so cool,” you’re smiling and then gasping as he takes it off immediately and pushes it to you, silently asking to wear it
he’s not a fan of petnames, but would call you babe or darling if you like it
i also believe he’s more on the act of service type, so expect him to show you his love by being helpful and doing things for you rather than putting his feelings into words
has a pic of you sleeping as his lockscreen wallpaper
of course he shuts you up during arguments by squishing your cheeks with his hand
kisses your lips before letting you go, as a way to make you forget all about the argument
lowkey a fan of taking you out to a bar and make out with you in the bathroom, his hands holding your cheeks or your waist as his lips move against your own
he tries his best to be as open as possible with you, trying to not hide his vulnerability when it’s just the two of you. he knows you wouldn’t judge or make fun of him
lastly, i think that if you two are around the others, katsuki likes keeping your pinky fingers intertwined, maybe if you’re talking with izuku and iida & he’s talking with eijiro and denki
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roseworth · 7 months
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Jason was pretty sure Rose was a bad influence on him. He rarely ever drank if he wasn’t with Rose. 
Then again, Rose rarely ever killed if she wasn’t with him. So he was probably a worse influence on her.
“’m not even drunk,” Rose slurred, hands fumbling for her drink. “You’re the one that’s drunk.”
“No ‘m not,” Jason muttered. “Not even feelin’ anything.”
“Liar.”
“Yeah.”
She took a long drink from the can, then dropped it on the floor. He felt like the room was spinning as he watched the can roll away from them. She lounged down on the couch, laying across his legs with a grin. 
“That was my… eighth drink,” she announced proudly. “How ‘bout you?”
Jason looked at his can. He was pretty sure he was working on his fourth, but he was already nearly as drunk as her. “Dunno,” he answered. He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Rose cracking open another can.
“You… you should slow down,” he said. “Not good for you.”
His concern was rewarded with a pillow thrown at his head. “What are you, my mom?”
She laughed at her own joke. He laughed, too. It wasn’t very funny.
“You wanna hear somethin’ funny?” Rose snickered, her voice lowering like she was telling a secret. “Slade doesn’t know sign language.”
“That’s not funny,” Jason replied.
“I know. Pisses me off,” she huffed. “He’s the reason Joe can’t talk, and he… won’t even learn how to listen to him.”
Jason grunted in response. Rose took it as an invitation to continue her drunken ramble.
“I think he… he doesn’t love me,” she mumbled. “Or Joey. Or anyone. He loves the idea that he’s capable of love. But he’s not.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah.” She sat up quickly, then her head immediately fell onto his shoulder. “Your turn.”
“What?”
“It’s opening up time. Your turn.”
Jason snorted. “I don’t remember agreeing to opening up time.”
“Too bad, ’s happening,” she said. “Gimme a Bruce secret.”
“No secret to tell,” he said. “He’s an annoying, self-righteous cunt. But everyone knows that.”
She groaned and elbowed his side. “Nope. Dig deep, say somethin’ real.”
He pursed his lips, then let his head fall forward. He would blame the alcohol in the morning. He would say it didn’t actually bother him, it was just the alcohol talking.
“He’s still looking for an explanation,” Jason said quietly after a beat. “He’s still trying to figure out how I came back.”
“Oh.”
“Dunno what he’s looking for,” he continued. “I think he, uh, he thinks it’s not me. Or that I came back wrong, or something. He thinks there’ll be some… some answer for why I’m like this that he can blame.”
“What do you think?” Rose asked softly.
Jason thought Bruce was right. He thought that if Bruce found something, it would prove that he was never supposed to come back, or that he was just some horrible distortion of what he used to be. 
It was why he never tried to figure it out. He had decided it was better to have the question hanging over his head than the answer. 
“I think he’s an ass,” Jason answered, throwing his head back and taking a lot swig. “It doesn’t matter.”
Rose didn’t reply, just took another sip of her drink. 
“I’m done with trying to get my own father to understand me,” Jason said.
“Yeah, me too,” Rose replied.
They were both lying. Neither of them called each other out on it.
“You talked to your brother recently?” Jason asked.
“No comment,” she said. “You talked to yours?”
“Which one?”
“Any.”
“Nope.”
She snorted. “We suck.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s nice that we suck in the same ways, though,” Rose laughed. “That’s prolly why we don’t have any other friends.”
“We’ve got Eddie,” Jason pointed out, grabbing another drink as Rose finished the last of hers.
“Eddie’s dead.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Rose tossed her empty can on the floor and sighed. “I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she said.
Jason took a sip from his can and raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t talk about my feelings with anyone else.”
“I think talking about your feelings is supposed to be a good thing.”
“Not for me,” she insisted. “We should stop hanging out.”
“Probably.”
Neither of them moved.
“What was your mom like?” Jason asked out of the blue. The room was still spinning around him. He took another sip to see if it would make it better.
“Nice try,” Rose responded, all humor gone from her face.
“I thought it was opening up time.”
“Opening up time is over,” she said. “Unless you want to talk about your mommy issues, in which case go ahead.”
“No thanks.”
“Thought so,” she scoffed. 
They fell into silence again. Jason finished his drink and set the can down next to him. Rose rubbed her eyepatch with a frown.
“Does it hurt?” Jason asked.
“My eye? Only when I think about it.”
“How much do you think about it?”
“I told you opening up time is over.”
He frowned at her for a moment, then looked down at the floor. “Well, I can still feel the crowbar, sometimes,” he said. “He got a few good hits in, the worst was right where my spine meets my neck.” He reached a hand up and slowly grazed his fingers over where the scar should be. “Still feel it when I move too fast.”
Rose was silent. Jason could feel her stare digging into the side of his head. He didn’t look up; he didn’t want to know how she was looking at him.
“That sucks,” she said finally. 
He wasn’t sure why, but there was something hilarious about that. He broke into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, it does,” he grinned.
She started laughing too. “My eye hurts most when I try to think about what came before I worked with Slade,” she giggled. “Last time I talked to Roy, I had to leave after like 30 seconds because it hurt like the knife was cutting it out again.”
That wasn’t funny at all. They were both laughing until they couldn’t breathe.
They were definitely bad influences on each other. 
Neither of them seemed to notice.
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mypoisonedvine · 2 years
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Idk if you take request🛐 but if you do could you do one where y/n is nervous to take her bra off in front of Eddie cause she’s on the small side but with the bra it’s giving C cup when she really has A cup. ……..😬 I feel like this is a little oddly specific but the power of Victoria Secret be having my confidence 📈 till I have to take it off then it’s like 📉
warnings: SMUT 18+, small chested reader, insecurity, lots of tit sucking, fingering, hand job, fluff, eddie being a goof
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"Listen, sweetheart, I'm really not trying to be a dick here," he insisted, "and I don't want it to seem like I'm obsessed with your boobs. I mean, I am, but I don't want it to seem like that."
You giggled a little, looking down. Meeting at your usual spot in the woods started with casual conversation, but like it had once or twice before, it came back to Eddie noticing your obvious and strange habit of refusing to let him see you without your bra.
"I just— if I thought you didn't want to go further I'd let it go. But we do so much, uh, other stuff... and I still haven't even seen your tits," he explained, stepping closer to you as he bit his lip for a second. "Been thinking about them for— well, since I first saw you. Are you just trying to drive me crazy or somethin'? 'Cause, fuck, babydoll— it's working."
"I'm not," you promised, "it's not... it's not that."
"Okay," he breathed, "so, what is it? Have we not been going out long enough? Do you just not like being touched there?"
"It's— it's not about the touching..." you clarified. "It's about the seeing."
He knitted his eyebrows together for a second before laughing. "Want me to put a blindfold on? I can work with that."
"No," you sighed, "it's not— I'm just nervous, okay?"
"Okay!" he agreed. "Okay. That's okay. I just wanna make sure there isn't anything I can do to make you feel better about it. I'm not above begging."
You smiled. "Well, you don't need to beg..."
"I don't?" he asked excitedly, choking a bit when you raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean— of course I don't," he mumbled as he held his hands behind his head and made a silly 'cool guy' face. "Obviously."
You rolled your eyes and pushed on his shoulders lightly. But your playful demeanor fell as insecurity twisted in your chest again. "Just... say that you won't be... disappointed?"
"Dis—" he stopped and started again. "Disappointed?"
"Yeah!" you defended, crossing your arms.
"That's what you're nervous about? Me being disappointed by getting to see and feel your tits?" he realized, tilting his head down but raising his eyebrows. "I'm nervous I'm gonna bust in my fuckin' jeans, how's that for nervous?"
"But what if they're not..." you sighed. "What if they're not that, um... big?"
"Seriously, babe— how big they are doesn't matter. They're yours, that's what I like about them! I wanna touch you baby, that's all I ever wanted."
You bit your lip and looked away. "O-okay, because, well... I never told you but I... this is a push-up bra. I always wear a push-up."
"Why?" he asked.
"'Cause without it they're... small!" you blurted out. "Too small! I just wanted— I wanted to feel pretty, I wanted to be, I dunno, sexy? I wanted you to think I was hot."
He smiled, reaching up to hold your arms gently. "You know why I think you're hot, babe?" he asked, continuing when you shook your head. "'Cause you're funny. And weird, but cool. And you get this look in your eyes when you're talking about your favorite things, and you hang onto my arm when we're walking together, and... well, the list goes on. I digress."
You bit your lip, blinking quickly as your heart swelled.
"Point is, how big your tits are is just... something about you. It's you that I like. Not your tits. Not that I, uh, don't like your tits— but I just mean, that's not really why I like you, like, at all."
You nodded. "And you're not... mad at me, for wearing a push up, or anything?"
"Course not. If anything it's kinda sweet— and, uh, hot— that you wanted to, you know... look good for me." He stepped up a little closer to you, with a mischievous smirk on his lips. "But if you wanted my attention, sweetheart, no bra would've done the trick just fine."
"Well," you breathed, "it's not too late for that, is it?"
"Never."
He watched, enraptured, as you pulled your shirt off over your head, now with only the lacy push-up to cover your chest. This you'd done before, this you were familiar with— but knowing you were finally about to take that step and let him really see you made you all chilly and nervous.
"You're sure you wanna let me see?" he asked one more time. "I swear, I wasn't trying to pressure you, I just wanna make sure you're comfortable with me."
"I am," you promised, "just... don't get upset when you see them, okay?"
"Sweetheart, respectfully, I think upset is the last thing I'm gonna be."
You reached behind your back and carefully undid the clasp, letting out a shuddering breath as you let the straps slide from your shoulders.
As the garment fell onto the ground, you glanced away from his face, afraid of what expression you would find on it. But you heard him make a little noise, and it got your attention; and when you looked at him, you saw lust, pure lust, tinting his eyes as he stared you down.
"Fuck," he breathed, "god, they're perfect— you're perfect..."
"Really?" you asked.
"Can I feel them, babe? Please..." he begged, and you nodded.
His hands came up to rest on them gently, making you shiver as his fingers carefully squeezed the flesh. "They're... they're not too small?"
"Baby," he grinned, "you still worried about that? They're cute, they're sexy, they're— they're your fucking tits, babe, I've been waiting so long to get my mouth on these."
"Your mouth?!" you repeated with wide eyes, and he looked up to your face again to smirk at you.
"Yeah. Is that okay?"
"Y-yeah," you replied, watching him crouch down to press his face in between your breasts, kissing your sternum, before suddenly tilting his head giving an open-mouthed kiss to one of your nipples.
Your breath caught, and your eyes were glued to him flicking his tongue out and teasing the hardened bud, before finally wrapping his lips around and sucking harder. You moaned, way louder than you meant to, and felt him smile around you. "They're so sweet, princess," he whispered, "and sensitive. God, that's so hot..."
He kissed his way across to the other one, and moaned around it as he lathed it with a wide tongue. Your hand shot up to his mess of hair, tangling in the curls as he kept up the good work. "Eddie," you breathed.
"Mhm," he agreed as he suckled on one, looking up at you with those big-ass fucking eyes, god it was overwhelming. He pulled off of it with a pop to smile up at you. "Is this good?"
"S-so good," you agreed, and his eyes fell shut as he set his mouth around you again— open wide this time, trying to take in as much of your skin as he could fit. His hands squeezed at the base of them, pushing your breast further into his mouth, making your hips rock up towards him in need.
He pulled away one more time, just an inch or two, watching closely as his fingers pinched your spit-slick peak. "Cute little nipples," he noticed, and you never even imagined him talking about your tits that way but it was weirdly sexy.
"Eddie," you whimpered, "I— I'm so wet..."
"Fuck, lemme touch your pussy, babe," he pleaded breathlessly.
"Please," you replied, and his hand was between your legs in a moment. You whined and rubbed yourself against it, feeling his fingers zero in on your clit right away even through your jeans.
That was the pattern for a while, him sucking your tits and giving little bites and kisses to the sensitive flesh while his hand expertly toyed with you through your clothes— until you got too needy and just had to quietly beg for more, please Eddie, touch me more...
As soon as he heard your demand, he roughly opened your jeans and shoved his hand inside, putting his tongue to his lips for a second as he had to force his way down against the tight denim. You both sighed with relief when he got deep enough to feel your soaked opening, into which he plunged two fingers suddenly. "Fuck!" you gasped.
"Mm," he hummed happily, mouthing at your neck this time. "So wet— are you having fun, babe?"
"Yes, yes, just— don't stop," you whimpered.
"Oh? You want me to taste them some more?" he taunted.
"Eddie!" you whined defiantly, and he chuckled as he kissed his way down your bare chest and started all over again, teasing your nipples with little pecking kisses before finally sticking his tongue out and swirling it around them gently. It made your pussy pulse on his fingers, as did the way he moaned just from feeling you like this.
"Can you come for me?" he breathed. "Can you come while I'm— fuck— while I'm sucking on your pretty tits?"
"Yeah," you nodded, whining louder as his fingers curled into your spot.
He pumped his fingers inside you carefully, your jeans too tight to allow him to move his whole hand— so he just had to slide his fingers up and down, rubbing your clit not-so-accidentally with the knuckle at the beginning of his palm. Your legs were shaking already.
"Come on, that's it," he cooed around a mouthful of your skin, moving over back to the other breast again. "Yeah, cream on my fingers, babe, know you want to..."
And you did, whimpering at his encouragement and feeling your knees almost give out. He cooed at you as he felt you come apart, even just letting the natural movements of his lips and tongue as he spoke tease your sensitive breasts. You winced when he pulled his fingers out of you and his hand out of your jeans, standing up straight again to show you what a pretty, sticky mess you'd made on him.
"Wanna suck all that deliciousness off my fingers for me, princess?" he purred, watching with a slack mouth as you opened yours and took them in, tasting your tangy arousal. "Mm, good job— that's— fuck that's good, babe..."
He lost a bit of his composure as you sucked harder on his fingers, massaging them with your tongue—
"Shit!" he grunted. "Forgot how devilish that little mouth of yours is... suck harder?"
You did, blinking your eyes up at him, before he tore his hand away to give you a big, sloppy, needy kiss with his panting breaths all over it.
His hands were on your tits again, grabbing greedier handfuls of them, squeezing almost too hard to make you moan into his mouth.
You whined when you felt his hips press forward, his obvious and throbbing erection right against your thigh through his jeans. He broke away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes dark and heavy as they stared down at you.
"Fuck, fuck, just jerk me off," he grunted as he started quickly unbuttoning his jeans for you, pulling his cock out and grabbing your hand to wrap around it. You started stroking him quickly, watching as he shut his eyes and panted and leaned his head down. "Damn, baby, that's good... just like that, m'close..."
You stroked him just a bit faster, twisting your hand gently at his tip, letting the sticky precum smooth your movements.
"Got me so worked up suckin' on your tits, babe," he sighed, "and you sound so pretty when I do it to you. M'fuckin'— shit— gonna come, sweetheart, gonna— ah!"
He grunted as seed painted your hand, dripping down your wrist, making you bite your lip as he pumped into your hand with absent-minded thrusts of his hips. "Don't stop, Eddie," you whispered, "keep coming."
"God," he choked, "you— fuck!"
You kept pumping him with your hand until you heard him whine through his teeth and knew that was the end of it— and he really had unloaded a lot onto you, come covering your hand and dripping down to the ground quickly.
"Christ," he grunted, opening his eyes again and staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. "Emptied my fuckin' balls on you, apparently— sorry."
"Don't apologize, I wanted you to," you promised.
"Can I come on your tits next time?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Your bottom lip found its way between your teeth in an instant as you inhaled a sharp breath. "Deal."
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