#friends to lovers? aw shit here we go again

[fangirl-dot-com]

🏎Track 9 - Getaway Car

*for the people who voted an update for reputations first, here you go! we can all say thank you to George for getting me in a writing move and inspiring this chapter! sorry for all the lando lovers...he's not redeemed. thank you for reading and I hope this is what you've been waiting for!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“Oh shit. I think I had contact with Leclerc,” you said over the radio as you felt a bump to your back right tyre. In one of your mirrors, you could see a flash of red trailing behind you. Your heart dropped at the thought of ruining Charles’s race, but you kept on going. 

There wasn’t much space for you to go any wider. And Checo had been on the other side of the Monegasque. It would have to be dubbed a racing incident, hopefully. 

“How’s the car?” your race engineer asked. 

You sucked in a deep breath. “It feels fine.” 

“Ok. Just keep your head down. There might be a podium if we stay on course.” 

Your head gave the slightest nod, even if no one would see it. You still didn’t want to be sole reason that Charles had yet another bad race. 

It seemed like the Monegasque’s luck ran out after Monaco. Someone must have sacrificed the rest of the Ferrari season just so that Monaco could be theirs, and it showed. A double DNF in Canada was downright awful, and Spain wasn’t anything to write home about. 

He had managed to pick up a couple of points in the sprint race, but that was it. 

Canada for you and Logan was a thing of the past. A similar double DNF wasn’t something that you would have liked on your record, but what was done was done. You and Logan were still P1 and P2 in the drivers championship and Lamborghini was leading comfortably. 

Spain was a bit better. 

The Spanish Grand Prix saw you and Logan on the podium, but Max took the first step. It was a tricky race with you, Logan, and Lando swapping places lap after lap. At one point, Logan had tapped Lando when the British driver tried to barrel down into a turn. 

Once it was over, you felt ready to be done with over the top races. You missed the beginning races when your car was able to finish the race with big gaps in front and behind you. The triple header had been grueling, and you were ready for a break. Silverstone didn’t exactly start up any excitement. The media and the atmosphere didn’t seem pleasant.

Your race had been predictable until the very end. You had just gone back into turn 3 when your engineer turned the radio back on. 

“Sargeant and Verstappen made contact, virtual safety car. Sargeant needs to retire, Verstappen has dropped down to fifth.” 

You wanted to groan. There’s no way that you and Logan had accidentally ruined races for two of your really good friends. 

“Who’s the leader and what’s the gap?” 

“Norris is currently P1. Piastri is P2. You’re running P3.” 

If you could hit your helmet on the steering wheel, you would. 

You pressed the radio button again. “And the gap?” 

“It is 4.201 seconds. But tyre degradation is bad. Don’t push as hard, just bring it over the line.” 

With a huff, you turned your radio off and kept going. When you crossed the checkered flag, you finally felt like you could breathe. There really was no competition who could have taken third from you, but your anxiety was already rising. 

Although there wasn’t any tension like there had been, your anxiety grew as you got out of your car. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of bright orange run into his team’s arms. Not wanting to get involved, you leisurely walked over to the Lamborghini team. 

Your race engineer gave you a quick hug, and many pats came down on your helmet. However, the person you wanted to be there was nowhere to be seen. As you locked eyes with many of the crew, none were the blue you were looking for. 

With a sigh, you took your helmet off and went over to the weighing station. You kept your head down, looking at the numbers so you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. As you made your way to the cooldown room, George was able to congratulate you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, still not looking him in the eyes. 

The Briton sighed. He knew that when he saw Charles pull up in P11 and Max in P5, you and Logan were going to start closing in on yourselves again. It was his job, plus the others, to make sure that you two knew that it was just racing. 

Hell, Max was at fault for the tangle with Logan. However, the two of you seemed to take all fault on yourselves. If George ever met the people who had made you and Logan like this, they wouldn’t see the light of day. 

George put his hands on your shoulders, finally making you look up at him. His kind, blue eyes melted at the sight of tears in yours. 

“It wasn’t yours or Logan’s fault, ok? Max and Charles both know.” 

You shrugged. “Sure. That’s what they all say.” 

Not wanting to delay getting to the cooldown room, you turned on your heel, out of George’s hands and into the little room. You quietly sat down in the P3 chair, right next to Lando. Your eyes fixated on the screen when they showed what had happened between Logan and Max. 

“Aha, thank you Sargeant for that.” 

Your eyes widened at the sound of Lando’s laugh and voice. You quicky glanced over, just to see Oscar looking at him the same way. 

The Aussie let out a small scoff. “Mate, Max turned into him.” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “He shouldn’t have gone up against Max in the first place. If he can’t keep P1 then he doesn’t deserve it. Max did the right thing.” 

Was he being for real. You wanted to say something, but you were baffled. Lando’s win was definitely gifted. He couldn’t even hold P1 into turn 1 back in Spain when he was on pole. You just sat still, picking at your fingernails until the official called the three of you back. 

Lando jumped out of his chair and sauntered away. Oscar waited until you got close to wrap an arm around you. As the two of you walked, the Aussie’s head dipped down next to your ear. 

“It was all Max. Logan had nowhere to go.” 

You only nodded in response. The McLaren driver could sense that something was very off. He hoped that Logan was fairing a bit better. 

Back at the Lamborghini garage, Logan had locked himself in his drivers room after he got out of his car in the pit lane. His eyes were red as he continuously wiped at the tears that kept falling. Deep down, he knew that it was Max who turned a bit deep, but his head liked to say the opposite. 

A knock interrupted his down spiral. 

Logan sniffed loudly. “Yeah?” 

The door opened slightly and Benny popped his head in. “We’re going to the podium; do you want to come with us to watch your girl?” 

Logan sucked in a deep breath. How dare he come in and cry while you probably wanted to celebrate. He quickly shook his head. 

“She probably doesn’t need me there.” 

Benny sighed as he recalled what George had said on his way back to the Mercedes. When the trainer caught Logan’s eyes, he smiled. 

“I don’t think she’s feeling like celebrating at all. How about this: I’ll call for a car so that you and Y/n can get out of here when you’re done with your interviews. I’ll let Michael know that you two need some time.” 

Logan didn’t say anything, but he stood up and brought Benny into a hug. He choked on a sob as his friend’s arms wrapped around him. 

“It’s going to be just fine kid.” 

Logan wiped his eyes one more time as he followed Benny out of his room. He could feel the sad pairs of eyes on him, reminding him of Canada after his DNF. It kind of reminded him about his time at Williams, but the smiles made it better. At the other team, all he got where sighs of disappointment and frustrations.  

When he made it to the media pen, he kept his cap low on his face. What he didn’t realize was that Max was standing next to him while he gave his interview. 

The Dutchman has seen Logan come up to stand next to him, so he kept one ear open. Logan shuffled on his feet as the lady asked the first question. 

“Logan, you were having a fantastic race. What happened?” 

A sigh escaped before he answered. “Well, Max and I went for a battle and we both went a bit wide. There really wasn’t room for me to go anywhere, but I should have gone a bit wider to have tried to not cause the collision.” 

Max wanted to smack him for thinking that he could have avoided it. 

The lady pressed on. “So do you think that Verstappen is at fault.” 

The American shrugged. “At the end of the day, we’re both drivers that want a win. When you go wheel to wheel, you need to expect some hard moves and be ready for them. I just wasn’t ready and I dealt with the consequences.” 

“Your teammate was able to score a podium. Is that a positive you can take from today?” 

A smile rose on his face at the thought of you. “Yes. I can speak for the team when I say I’m very proud of what Y/n accomplished today. Even with the bit of bumping into turn 1 at the beginning with Charles, she managed well.” 

The interview wrapped up quickly after that, making Logan turn to leave. Once he was out of the pen, he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He slowly turned around and was faced with a concerned Max. 

The Dutchman asked, “Are you ok, Logan?” 

The blond had a sheepish grin, almost borderline uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’m ok.” 

Max wasn’t convinced. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Logan. You need to know that.” 

“Oh look, Y/n is texting me. Better check out what she needs. Bye Max.” 

“Logan.” 

“I have to get going! See you at Silverstone.” 

“You’re being unfair.” 

Max’s last sentence died out as he watched the younger round the corner out of sight. He let out a groan as he rubbed his hand down his face. If Logan wasn’t going to listen, he’d have to corner him again. 

The Dutchman didn’t want to do that, but Logan left him with no choice. He had to call the big guns. 

You were currently rushing to lot 2 where Logan had said he would be. Your eyes landed on a convertible, navy Porsche. Logan’s blond hair shone in the lighting of the late evening. When you saw him wave, you quickly made your way over. 

As you got closer, Logan leaned over the passenger seat and opened your door. You rolled your eyes as you sat down. 

“What a gentleman.” 

He smirked. “Only for you darlin’.” 

Your arm reached out and turned up the radio as Logan put the car into gear. It didn’t take long before you two were out of the lot and on the main road. Your hair whipped around you as you sang along to the radio. Logan would glance at you often, just glad to see a smile on your face. He even tried to hit a high note, which made you burst into giggles.

You didn’t know where Logan was headed, but it seemed like he knew as he turned off the road and onto a back one. It didn’t take long before he parked the car in front of a park. The lake behind the grass reflected the reds and yellows of the sunset. 

Logan took this opportunity to place his arm behind you and gently pull you in. You let out a content sigh as your head rested on his chest. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the podium,” he apologized as his fingers twirled your hair around them. He wasn’t looking at you as his eyes were cast at the steering wheel. Your fingers began to draw shapes on his chest. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m glad you weren’t there. Lando was insufferable. He said some things.” 

Logan sat up slightly. “Like what?” 

You chewed on your lip, not wanting to say. “He said thank you for hitting Max, and that you shouldn’t have tried to fight for P1 if you couldn’t keep it.” 

The blond was silent for a moment. 

“At least he said thank you.” 

You sat up all the way and turned to look at him. “Logan Hunter Sargeant!” 

“What?” a smile was on his face, letting you know that he was teasing. “I’m just going to team up with Max, and we’re going to win at Silverstone.” 

Your eyes looked down and landed on your phone which was blowing up with messages from your group chat. 

“Speaking of Max.” 

You and Logan read through the messages quickly before replying.

You put your phone back down before turning to face him. 

“Think we should head back?” 

“Yeah, or your ice cream might melt.” 

Before Logan went to shift the gear, you pulled on his shirt and brought him into a kiss. Behind your lips, he sighed as he leaned in a bit more. Your hands drifted to his shoulders while his rested on your hips. 

You would have leaned in more if it weren’t for the stick shift in the middle. When it pressed against your side, you disconnected your lips from his. Logan let out a soft whine and tried to lean back in. You put your finger up to his lips to press him back. 

“Nothing good starts in a get away car baby.” 

Logan turned and thumped his head on the steering wheel. “You did not just quote Taylor Swift at me for wanting to kiss you a bit more.” 

You smirked. “Ice cream is waiting.” 

“You and your ice cream woman.” 

Logan quickly backed out and whipped the car around. The drive to the hotel wasn’t as far as you thought it was as. Logan pulled up to the front, got out, and rounded to your side to open your door. This time you didn’t tease him and gladly took his hand. 

Logan went over the details with the chauffer before he was back at your side, leading you through the entrance. 

You two thought you would have a bit more time before Max and Charles showed up. However, when the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t expecting them, Lewis, George, and Oscar to be sitting by your door. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you guys are here early.” 

At the sound of your voice, the five of them sat up, eye wide at being caught. George scratched his head, Lewis looked at the ground, and Oscar smiled sheepishly. 

Charles bit his lip before holding a bag out. “Ice cream?” 

You took the bag from him as Logan swiped his card. “Ice cream.” 

Logan shouted from inside the room. “How long have you been here?” 

Max rubbed his face. “Maybe thirty minutes?” 

“My ice cream better not be melted Verstappen.” 

“Your ice cream? I think Charles brough enough for me too.” 

“Get your own Sargeant.” 

“Are they always like this?” 

“Welcome to the club Oscar.” 

lamborghini_racing has posted

liked by sargeantgirlie, venus2, presidentlogan, and 2,038,567 others

lamborghini_racing wasn't the result we thought we'd get, but it's better than nothing. the bees are ready for Silverstone 💪🐝

see all comments

lambo_duo logan, you did nothing wrong! I hope you know that we're still cheering for you!!

sargstappen I hope this isn't the end of Logan and max's friendship :(

leclercsdaughter I don't think it it

venus2 sorry team, we'll get it next time

phoenix95 OH YEAHHHH LET'S GO TEAM - THE BRITISH BETTER BE SCARED BEFORE WE RECREATE 1776 RAWWRRRR 🦅

lewishamilton I actually am scared now

georgerussell63 same.

usaf1 let's get Norris on his home turf 😤

ln4fan this team has som incompetent drivers who need to be replaced (I'm looking at sargeant)

logan&co literally who asked you

lestappenlove bring it on 😈

phoenix95 has posted

liked by charles_leclerc, y/n.nation, LEC, and 1,403,286 others

phoenix95 totally destroyed them at mario kart 😈

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, and venus2

see all comments

loscarland glad to see Oscar has been adopted by this group ☺️

y/n.nation nothing but a girl, her friends, and some lec ice cream

americanf1duo can't wait to obliterate them in England

maxverstappen1 I WANT A REMATCH

venus2 I think you're just a sore loser

maxverstappen1 how was I supposed to know that George is awful at mario kart

georgerussell63 HEY 🤨

sargstappen233 I'm glad to see that nothing has changed 😮‍💨

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[roanniom]

I wanna say best friend Steve, who doesn’t get why you’re insecure and wants to hype you up…

Reflections

Best Friend!Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, friends to lovers, light angst from body image issues but it resolves, PIV sex / mirror sex, praise, groping, a LOT of fluff

You’re getting ready for a party and he’s waiting for you but you’re taking foreeeeever and he’s so BORED. He’s flopped on your bed with an arm over his eyes moaning about how late you two will be. But then he realizes you’ve been in your closet for a long time and you’re really quiet.

“Babe? C’mon, what’s going on? Get outta there.”

When you finally do, Steve’s eyes go wide. He’s never seen you in something so form fitting. Something that hugs every delicious curve and exposes the hills and valleys of you. His mouth goes dry and suddenly he’s feeling all hot and clammy like a fucking teenager again.

Keep it together, Harrington. You used to run shit and now you’re getting stiff over your best friend? He swallows thickly at the thought and wrenches his gaze up to your face, startled to find you frowning.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and you throw your arms up into the air.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you huff, walking over to the mirror. Steve steps up behind you, doing his best to maintain a respectful distance. Your hands grab meanly at the rounded parts of you and your frown deepens. “This doesn’t fit how I wanted it to and I look awful and -,”

You’re cut off suddenly by the massive snort of a laugh Steve let’s out behind you. You glare daggers at him over your shoulder through the mirror.

“What the fuck, Harrington?!”

Steve continues chuckling but puts his hands heavy on your shoulders, good natured and soothing.

“I’m sorry but you’re fucking crazy if you think you look awful. You’ve gotta be pulling my leg here, babe.”

Your jaw tenses as it does every time he calls you ‘babe.’ Reminding yourself that he’s your friend and nothing more, regardless of the way his fingers are digging into your muscles, you shake your head petulantly.

“I look like bag of lumps,” you argue.

“Nah, you look like one of those paintings we saw on that field trip to that museum in Indianapolis,” he says wistfully, no longer pretending to not be appraising you in the mirror. Despite your lingering trepidations you can’t lie to yourself. You like the feeling of his eyes on your body.

“You calling me Rubenesque?” you ask, finally quirking a smile. Steve’s answer grin is huge, glad you’re no longer frowning.

“Look, I have no idea what that means but if it’s good, then yeah.” He shrugs and takes you in again, scanning your figure with eyes that finally settle on your ass, no longer looking in the mirror. You feel heat spread through you while he licks his lips unconsciously. “But really I’m calling you sexy.”

“Sexy?” you groan, ruffling with discomfort and squeezing your eyes shut against embarrassment. “Shut up, Harrington!”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What?”

“Just shut up, will you?”

“Why? Because I called you sexy?” he asks defensively.

You curl in on yourself covering your ears.

“Stop fucking saying that word.”

“No. I won’t, you weirdo,” Steve laughs, grabbing you by the waist and wrestling you back to full height. You fight against him weakly by wriggling in his arms but his grip is firm. He locks eyes with you in the mirror and forces you to hold the contact. “You’re fucking hot, okay? Deal with it.”

“Ok fine, hot is a word that, while an exaggeration, I can maybe live with,” you respond, rolling your eyes. Steve shakes his head. It’s not lost on you that his grip tightens on your waist.

“But you’re also sexy,” he continues to insist. When you loll your head to the side in discomfort he has to steel himself so he doesn’t lean down and inhale the scent of your perfume on your exposed neck. He shakes you a bit and your head lolls to the other side. “What’s your problem with that word.”

“Because, Steve,” you harumph, slapping your hands over your eyes to hide your face. “Calling someone ‘sexy’ implies that people would willingly have sex with them.”

Steve is momentarily silent but the puff of air that you feel on your neck from his sudden and harsh exhale makes goosebumps erupt on your skin. It’s his turn to frown darkly at you.

“Is that a joke?”

“The idea of people willing to have sex with me?” you ask, reaching to dig and elbow back into his ribs. “Yeah. A big joke. Haha Ho Ho. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Steve’s mouth flattens into a tight line.

“Lots of people want to have sex with you.” He says it bluntly. It’s not an argument. He’s not trying to convince you. Just stating it as if it’s fact.

And now it’s your turn to snort.

“As the sexual object in question, who has been so celibate it’s like her virginity has been reinstated, I’m gonna have to beg to differ with you, buddy.”

Steve stiffens behind you. You’re best friends. He knew about your dry spell, but he hadn’t realized the extent to which it had messed with your confidence. It makes him almost shake with a sudden rage he doesn’t understand. Not at you, of course. But at the situation. At the male population of Hawkins who clearly don’t have fucking eyeballs let alone brains to comprehend what a catch you are.

He’d been nursing his own pathetic crush on you since that first day you’d waltzed into Scoops Ahoy and immediately turned down his over the top advances. You’d laughed him off as completely unserious and the two of you began an unlikely friendship born of teasing, complaining, and messing with Dustin and Robin. Steve had swallowed his attraction to you, letting it surface only in moments when he could appreciate you without you noticing. Which means “appreciating” your ass when you bend over to pick something up. Or “appreciating” your tits when you bend over to pick something else up. The fact that you haven’t noticed how consistently Steve drops shit is honestly concerning.

Steve’s not a particularly eloquent guy. He can be smooth when he wants to be, but if his current season of striking out constantly has taught him anything, it’s the fact that he isn’t getting any better at speaking. All he knows is he’s desperate to change the look on your face that says you don’t believe in your own looks.

He doesn’t think. He just pulls you against the front of his body roughly, closing the gap he had been maintaining.

“Steve, what - oh!” you gasp when you feel it. Him. Hard against you, his fingers digging into your sides to keep you pressed to him. Steve lowers his head to speak in your ear, all the while maintaining eye contact with you in the mirror.

“You’re more than a sexual object,” he says roughly. Then his hands drop to the sides of your thighs, applying pressure as he slides them up to map the slopes of your curves. “But if that’s what you wanna be, believe me. You’ve got takers, babe.”

“Steve…” you mumble under your breath. Your eyes are wide and fixed on him. Lips wetted and parted as you inhale shallowly.

Well. At least he’d managed to get the frown off your face.

Steve does his best to analyze the look in your eyes through the mirror. He doesn’t want to make you more upset accidentally. You gape for a second, remaining silent, and his hands follow the same path back down your curves, sliding around to press into the roundness of your lower belly to push you more securely against his erection.

“You’re…you’re just trying to make me feel better…” you finally say weakly. Steve’s hands slide back up to hold your hips, pressing into the dip of your waist to savor in a supple roundedness present there as well. Your eyelids flutter for a second at the touch.

“So are you saying this is making you feel better?” He asks. You don’t respond so he rolls his eyes. “You think I got hard just to make you feel better? Seriously?”

“Well I don’t know how it works…” you sputter indignantly. Steve laughs into your hair.

“Yeah I don’t believe that for a second. I think you know exactly how it works and that’s why you find it so fun to mess with me all the damn time.”

Your brow furrows and Steve shakes his head.

“Cut the crap. You do shit to turn me on every single day. It has to be intentional at this point.”

Your mouth opens and you struggle to respond.

“I don’t know what you’re…I’m not doing anything.” Then your face screws up in frustration. “If you’re making fun of me, I swear to god, Steve, I’ll -,”

“Does this feel like I’m making fun of you?!” Steve says abruptly, grinding against you. Your dress is so short that this time it rides up with the pressure, making it so that his clothed cock presses between the plush of the backs of your thighs.

You want to protest, but the moan that rips from your throat doesn’t sound much like a protest. Steve groans in your ear and your eyes whip up from where they’d rested on his hands to find his face. The hunger in his expression steals your breath.

“You cant…you can’t really want this,” you mutter. You can’t want me, is what you mean. It makes a lump form in Steve’s throat. Makes him want to hold you even closer, so he does.

“I do,” he contradicts, rocking himself against you consistently now. He’s encouraged by the way you shiver and grip at his wrists. Not pulling him off you but anchoring him to you instead. Steve brings his face to the side of yours, staring till you turn your head to look at him. In real life this time and not through the mirror. He’s disconcertingly close and your breath stutters in your chest. His eyelids are half mast as he takes you in. “The question is…do you want this?”

You kiss him before you can think any deeper about what’s going on. You kiss him before you can convince yourself that this is a prank or a pity kiss or anything else other than an attractive man you care about lavishing you with physical affection. Steve’s eyes slam shut easily and he holds you close in this awkward position. Craning your neck around as his front is pressed still to your back. His lips are insistent and hot and wet and quickly he’s forcing yours open so his tongue can slip in.

You practically swoon over the combination of his hands and his lips and his tongue. His dick presses more insistently against you and you find yourself pressing back. Shimmying your was a bit to create more friction. Triumph shooting through you when Steve let’s out a quiet, low “Fuck” in response.

When you finally pull away for a oxygen, you straighten up and look at Steve and yourself in the mirror again. You look absolutely debauched out of no where. Eyes hazy, lids low, hair and dress askew, chest rising and falling in a restless pant. Steve ignores the opportunity to breathe, instead using the pause to start kissing your neck.

You watch him work at your skin. His jaw moving and throat tensing and releasing. His hair wild and disheveled in a way that makes him look even more sinfully delicious than normal. It really isn’t fair.

You’ve always been attracted to Steve Harrington. You have eyes and a healthy libido after all. But you’d never believed someone like him could want someone like you. You did believe, however, that you were a perfect match in every respect other than aesthetic. He needed someone to challenge him. Someone to keep him humble while also supporting him and building him up. You had plenty of confidence in your humor, intelligence, and overall personality, so him becoming your best friend made sense when you both fell into it.

But with his body against yours now, it’s the first time you’ve ever even considered the meaning behind his flirtatiousness. The intent behind the hands he places comfortingly on your shoulders or thighs. Hope bloomed hot and hesitant in your core as you watched his hands begin to roam and grope at parts he’d never dared touch before.

“This…this okay?” he asks into your skin as he tentatively cups one of your breasts. He cracks an eye open to look at you in the mirror and when you nod, he allows his hand to close tighter around you. You swallow another moan.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” he whispers back, not looking up from your tits which he’s begun massaging through your dress. You grasp at his wrist and shake him to get his attention.

“Steve.”

The strain in your voice has his eyes snapping up to yours and his hands stopping immediately. He looks sheepish.

“Do you not like that? I can stop -,”

He goes to remove his hands from your chest but you slam your hands down over the backs of his to keep him fondling you.

“No!” you say hastily. Steve seems confused so you continue. “Remember what you said about there being ‘takers’ for me?”

Steve bites his lip, not enjoying the thought of how many other guys would find you thoroughly fuckable. But he nods.

“Yeah?”

“Well…” you say before you can overthink and ruin this. Your mind is reeling and your body is aching. The signs are too clear to question and even if this wasn’t what it seemed to be, you didn’t feel strong enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. You bite your own lip. “Would you…would you take me?”

Steve stops breathing. You can tell because his breaths were coming in heavy before and now suddenly his chest is still against your back. You don’t let yourself question it. Instead you widen your stance and lean over, flattening your palms against the wall on either side of the mirror. In the reflection of the glass Steve gets a good look down your dress into the cleavage below. Looking behind you he gets a good look up your dress where it’s ridden up, revealing a pair of dainty lace panties.

The groan that rips through him seems to restart his lungs because suddenly he’s practically hyperventilating behind you. His hands land heavy on your hips and he grinds against you with even more purpose. Steve’s instinct is to ask again if you’re sure, but you hum a low “yess” and drop your head to hand between your arched shoulders. 

You’re into this. Maybe even as much as he is. It’s time to man the fuck up and take what he wants. What you want to give him. 

So Steve places his hand on the dip of your lower back to encourage a deeper arch. You oblige him, sticking your ass out further in the process, and he groans. 

“I’ll show you how you should be treated, babe, don’t you worry,” Steve says hoarsely. A thrill runs through you at his words but he continues. “But you have to do one thing for me.”

“Anything,” you answer breathlessly. You’re surprised by your own enthusiasm but you can’t help it, visions running through your mind of what he could ask of you. You mentally prepared yourself to drop to your knees, mouth already prematurely watering. 

“Acknowledge how sexy you are,” he says, suddenly wrenching you upwards so you can see yourself more fully in the mirror again. Your back is once more flush with his chest and you moan at the sight of his hand wrapping lightly, delicately around the base of your throat. 

“That....I’m...” you struggle with the words and then shake your head. Steve’s hand slides down and pulls at one strap and then the other, letting gravity do the work of exposing your breasts to the air and him. Steve’s eyes roll back and he bites his fist. 

“I mean come on,” he moans. He gestures to your chest. “What the fuck is this? You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You can barely meet his intense gaze in the mirror but try your best. 

“You...wouldn’t have dated me in high school.”

Steve blinks. Completely taken back by the juxtaposition of your sudden vulnerability and the absolute fantasy of having your body against him, tits out and ready to be fucked. It takes a second for his brain to work through it but then he’s laughing.

“We wouldn’t have even been friends in high school. I would have made fun you and Robin if we’d ever crossed paths. Probably would have beaten the shit out of Dustin if he’d been old enough. And you know why?” he asks. You’re confused by his laughter so you shake your head and he continues. “Because I was an absolute asshole. It’s a me problem. High school Steve was a dick and honestly you’re better off not even knowing him.”

His tone is flippant but you can see the strain in his features. He feels guilt about his past and you know that. You suddenly feel guilty for letting your insecurities drag up an ancient history that you know he’s more than happy to move past. Comforted, you squeeze one of his hands that now rests on your hip and smile.

“And these days you’re only sometimes a dick,” you tease. Steve’s smile becomes more genuine, but his features screw up when you catch him off guard and bend over again, grinding against his still present erection. His fingers dig into your hips harshly.

“I’ll show you a dick,” he hisses, pressing into you in a shallow thrust. It’s absurd and it makes you laugh, finally free of the tension that had coated everything up to this point.

“Please do, Harrington. You’ve kept me waiting,” you respond, impatiently wiggling your hips. Steve abruptly pushes the bottom of your dress up, exposing your ass and leaving all of the material bunched around your middle. He lands a slap against your right ass cheek that has you squealing, finding his eyes in the mirror. They glint with mischief.

“I know you liked that. You forget you’ve told me what gets you hot,” he says simply. You flashback to the weed fueled honesty session in the Family Video parking lot you both had had one night and tingles erupt at the thought of what else he might remember. But then you remember what he’d said.

“Yeah well you like it when a girl touches herself, right?” you say cockily, lifting one hand from the wall and brining it to slide from your jaw, down your neck, to cup your breast and play with your nipple. While doing so you accentuate the curve in your back. Steve watches, swallowing audibly, but then fast as lightning rips your hand away from yourself and presses it back to the wall. His full body doubles over yours. You gasp.

“Usually I do, yeah. But I’ve waited so long that right now only I get to touch this body, understand?” You’re nodding before you can even think about it. When he trusts that you’ll leave both your hands pressed to the wall, Steve let’s his hands return to you. He slides up from your knees to grip fully at your inner thighs. He manhandles your hips, moving them side to side in order to grind your ass against his tented jeans. He palms up your soft stomach beneath the bunched dress. And then he cups your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, making you gasp again. His chuckle is low.

“See this is better. I’m the one who appreciates this body anyway. I should give her what she deserves.”

Your eyes are heavy lidded as they hold one another in the reflection. There’s hunger there that you’ve never known in your short lived sexual experience and suddenly you know for a goddamn fact that if this man is not inside you soon you will combust.

“Steve can you…can we just…?” You move against him impatiently and he leans in to kiss your neck with a chuckle.

“I’ve got you, babe. No need to beg.” The cockiness makes you roll your eyes but you hate that a fresh wave of wetness coats the tops of your inner thighs.

“I wasn’t gonna beg.”

“You weren’t gonna beg?” Steve asks, feigning shock. Your hands ball into fists against the wall.

“Pull your fucking pants down, Harrington.”

“Can do,” Steve says with a big grin. He unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans swiftly, in spit of how tight they are, leaving them and his underwear bunched at his thighs. He pushes you down farther and you have to strain to look up and watch him.

Over the curve of your ass you are treated to the sight of Steve Harrington stroking his massive cock. He hadn’t been called King Steve for nothing, that was for sure. His fist moves over it smoothly and with a familiarity that has you jealous of his fucking hand. Your eyes are wide and he seems pleased by your reaction.

“This work for you?” he teases. You bite your lip and consider your response.

“You’re sexy, Steve Harrington.”

A flush spreads across his face and down your neck and you’ve never been so smug in your entire life. But to his credit Steve clears his throat and grins.

“Thank you, babe,” he says before leaning over your body and rutting his cock against your core, leaving you gasping. He chuckles in your ear. “See, that’s how you take a compliment.”

“It’s not a compliment when it’s a fact, Steve,” you argue. But then he’s pulling down your panties and your legs begin to shake in anticipation.

“I don’t know because this is both a compliment and a fact - you’re fucking soaked!” he groans, running two fingers through your folds to collect the slick there. He flashes you a smile in the mirror that you can’t return because he suddenly sinks two fingers into you, causing your jaw to drop. “Which sexy thing in the mirror did this to you - you or me.”

“Shut - fuck. Shut up, Harrington,” you grit out.

He laughs and starts kissing your neck in tandem to his thrusting fingers. You bite back a moan, especially when his free hand lifts to play with your nipple. As someone who’d never been afforded much foreplay, you probably could have taken him two minutes into your argument, but Steve Harrington is warming you up. Getting you ready for him. And the realization makes you want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

When he adds a third finger and your hips work overtime, practically riding his hand, Steve finally pulls away, pressing a swirl into your clit that has you spasming as he takes his hand from between your legs.

“I think you’re good and ready,” he mutters, almost to himself. You nod feverishly up at him, swiveling your neck to try and see him directly. He shakes his head and nudges you back to the mirror. “No you’re gonna watch. You’re gonna watch me fuck you and see how well you take it.”

His words almost have your eyes rolling back in your head, but you hum an affirmative and go back to watching him in the mirror. Steve rubs the head of his cock through your folds and the way his face crumbles in pleasure has you absolutely preening. Then a sudden thought has your back rigid.

“Steve. Condom,” you say softly but urgent. His eyes snap open and he’s nodding immediately.

“Yeah sorry. Sorry!” He leans down and nips at the swell of your ass playfully and you yelp at the casual intimacy of it, heating up further as he reaches into the pocket of his bunched up jeans and pulls a foil packet from his wallet.

“How old is that?” you challenge with a cocked brow. He studies the packet for a second before looking up at you grinning.

“New enough that it’s not expired but old enough to have been collecting dust in there for a while,” he says, ripping it open and rolling the condom over his length. You bite your lip at the subtle confirmation that he hasn’t been with anyone else for a long time, trying to tamp down how good that makes you feel. Steve notices. “You like that? The fact that you’re the only one?”

You roll your eyes and repeat the refrain of the night.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

Steve pushes forward, one hand wrapped around the base of his dick, the other hand grounding on your hip. He spreads your folds with the head to cover himself in your slick. You sigh at the feeling.

“You’re not the only one whose been in a dry spell,” he says with a chuckle. You groan, letting your eyes slide closed while the hand that’s on your hip slips between your thighs to rub circles into your clit. He’s making you wetter. Prepping you further to accommodate his size. Again you feel overwhelmed by his attentiveness and how different this is from all your previous experiences. “You know the difference between us though, right?”

“Hm?” you ask, fully distracted by the pressure of his cock at your entrance and his finger on your bud.

“The difference is my dry spell is cuz I was waiting for you.” He says it simply. As if he’s not dropping a bomb on you in an incredibly intimate moment. Your eyes fly open and find his in the mirror and he’s grinning but this isn’t a joke. Your mouth opens to respond but the only thing that comes out is a moan when he chooses that exact moment to push all the way into you.

The feeling is otherworldly. It’s a stretch you’ve never felt and it’s got your legs turning to jelly and your face crumpling just on the line between pleasure and pain. You search for Steve’s face again in the mirror like a tether in a storm and he looks as overwhelmed as you feel. His eyes are screwed shut and he’s biting his lip so hard you’re worried because you sure as fuck want to kiss those plush lips again.

“St-Steve…” you all but whimper. He finds you in the mirror and looks almost distraught.

“Sorry yeah I’ll move it’s just…fuck.”

The desperation in his tone is such a boost to your ego that it’s got you rocking back into him.

“Feels good, Steve.” It comes out in practically a slur, but it seems music to his ears with the way he leans forward, gripping your waist and pulling out inch by inch.

“Feels incredible,” he contradicts before slamming back in. The suddenness of the movement has you clenching around him with surprise and he groans, fingers digging into your soft flesh. “Baby. Baby.”

Baby.

Not babe. Baby.

You hear the word ringing in your ears and your entire body reacts, letting him drive in even deeper somehow. It punches the air out of your lungs and you don’t let yourself think before responding.

“I like that.” It comes out in a rush. Steve huffs a laugh and starts finding a regular pace.

“You like that, huh? That the spot?”

“No,” you try responding but cut yourself off with a gasp. “I mean yeah, but no. I mean I…like you calling me baby.”

Steve’s eyes melt watching you. Saying sweet shit like that while taking his cock so well.

“Good. I wanna keep calling you baby,” he says quietly. 

Your gazes connect and you could swear your hearing cuts out. Time stops and everything in your view fades into fuzzy blurriness, leaving only room for him. Steve had slowed his thrusts, but as you focus on one another he renews his efforts. Not going faster, per se, but harder. Deeper. Your hands do what they can to keep you propped up against the wall, but soon your cheek is mashed against the mirror. You’re completely unable to stop the momentum of his thrusts from driving you forward with each upswing. 

“Defeats the purpose - fuck! Of the mirror if you’re not watching the show, baby,” Steve grunts out after a few minutes. Sweat has begun beading on his forehead and he’s losing patience with the distance between you. He’s enjoying fucking you from behind - it’s usually his favorite way of fucking - but there’s something missing. Before long he’s pulling out, much to your vocal protestation, and hauling you over to your long empty bed. 

“Wanna do this now,” he says as explanation. You don’t care. All you care about is the relief you feel when he sinks back into you. He has you on your back now, knees pushed up to your ribs. But you do care when everything comes into focus and you realize his face is right there. And the weight of his body is on you and around you and suddenly you need nothing more on this earth than to kiss him. 

So you do.

Steve hums into your mouth when you lurch up to press it to his. Your tongues fight for dominance and a line of saliva connects you when you finally part enough to pant for much needed air.

“Holy shit, Steve. Fuck!” You slam your head back down against the pillow, doing your best to lift your hips to meet each of his thrusts.

“I’m kinda mad we haven’t been doing this all along,” Steve admits with a grunting laugh.

“We were friends,” you reason, bucking against him when his fingers find your clit again. with the way he has you folded in half, the added stimulation has you rocketing towards orgasm at a breakneck pace.

“Aha, ‘were?’ So we’re not friends anymore?” Steve asks.

“How many friends have you been inside?” you ask, but then your eyes widen. “Never mind, I don’t want to know the answer to that.”

Steve barks out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Only you, baby,” he says good-naturedly. “Don’t think I can settle for just friends now, though.”

“No?” you ask absently. You’re beginning to ascend and losing yourself in the feeling. He can tell by the way you’re beginning to spasm irregularly around him.

“No, I need the whole sexy package,” he teases. You hear even more than before at the implication. That he might want all of you, and for more than just this, in this moment. You bite your lip and don’t say anything but his lips find your throat and you whimper. Steve sounds impatient when he speaks again. “Tell me you want me, too.”

You blink up at the ceiling and sputter.

“Wh-what?”

Steve pulls back, his thrusts slowing to a roll. He looks a little more tense. A little more vulnerable.

“You’re not the only one who needs to hear it, you know.”

You almost laugh at that but swallow it when you see he’s serious.

“Of course I want you,” you respond firmly. “Obviously.”

“It’s not obvious to me…” he mutters, dropping eye contact. You crane your neck to follow him.

“Steve, you’re hot as fuck - ,”

“That’s not -,” he tries to cut you off dismissively but you continue over him.

“AND you’re my best friend. I love being with you. In any way.” You roll your pelvis and look shyly up at him when he meets your gaze again. “But I’ve been wanting this way the most.”

Steve perks up, his hand grabbing yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted this?”

“Since that first time we spoke at Scoops Ahoy,” you confess. Steve’s thrusts come in faster now so your breathing picks up again. He snorts indignantly.

“I asked you out that day! You turned me down!”

“Well yeah, cuz I thought you were still a dick back then, Steve,” you reply with a massive smile. “We’ve been over this. Oh god…”

“You like this dick now, though, don’t you baby,” he intones, nothing but smooth Harrington charm. You don’t have it in you anymore to laugh or disagree.

“Mmmmhm…”

“You know you’re beautiful, right?” You seem just fucked out enough at this point that you finally won’t protest and he’s right. Your head lolls around on the pillow and you blink up at him dumbly. Steve takes in the bouncing of your breasts and the way your curves jiggle with each impact and he swears under his breath. “Gonna remind you how beautiful you are till you believe me, baby.”

He drives himself in all the way to hilt, holding himself there deep inside you till you’re clawing at him and clinging to him, moaning around gasps. Steve’s huge, but even better than that is the fact that he knows what to do with it. You ache with the supreme stretch of him. Pulse around his throbbing length in a way that makes you dizzy while you look up at him with glassy eyes that show you’re at least kind of understanding the depth of what he’s saying to you.

Steve can’t even begin to comprehend how he was lucky enough to finally find himself in this position. With you beneath him, staring up at him as if he hung the moon and the stars rather than simply stating plain, painfully obvious facts. He sees the crease in your brow as you wrestle with all the emotion he’s making you feel, however, and he wants to ease it. There’s been enough agony tonight. Right now, all he wants you to feel is pleasure.

“Hey,” he whispers suddenly, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against yours as his thrusts start up again. A hazy smile lights up your features.

“Hey,” you respond weakly.

“Still worried you’re not fuckable?” he teases. You huff a laugh that barely sounds like one because Steve chooses that moment to return his fingers to your clit, making you whimper.

“You seem to…mmm. You like…oh fuck…”

“Easy for you to say,” Steve chuckles, but the heat’s not lost on him either at this point. His face is screwed up in pleasure and the arm holding him up beside you is beginning to shake. He’s so fucking close, he just needs you to cum first because no matter the growth he’s gone through, he’s still King Steve and he’s gotta break you first for his ego, damn it.

Finally you whimper the magic words.

“Steve! Oh…’m so close…there…”

Steve knows what that means, so he changes nothing about what he’s doing, just focuses on doing it better. A deeper push against your sweet spot. A harder swirl against your clit.

“Come on, baby, c’mon,” he talks you through it and then you’re crashing over the edge. Seizing in his arms and clamping down on him in every way possible. Constricting your arms and legs around him. Pussy spasming and locking him in, making it hard to continue to steadily pull in and out.

The sudden onslaught of pressure has Steve toppling over soon after. He lets out a guttural grown and buries his face in your neck, his hips stuttering into yours as he spills into the condom. Though it accepts none of his cum, your pussy milks his pulsing cock for all its worth. His shuddering breath matches your own and you gasp and cling to one another as you slowly come back to earth.

It’s quiet for a few minutes in the aftermath. Aside from your combined slowing pants, of course. Steve’s face is still buried in your neck and it takes a while for you to regain feeling enough to recognize that he’s administering soft kisses to the skin there.

It all floods back into focus. The fact that you had been getting ready for a party (one that you were now astronomically late to). The insecurities you had exposed to your best friend. The insecurities your best friend had exposed to you.

You want to be worried about it. You want to feel stressed about what this will do to your friendship and about how he will look at you when he finally pulls back and sees you sweaty and disheveled and…and…and…

And Steve pulls back to give you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. And he’s sweaty. And disheveled. And luminous. Before you even realize it you’re stretching out your hand to touch his cheek. His eyes slide closed as he leans into your touch. Turns to press a kiss into your palm.

Your lip quivers and you do your best to swallow any of the negative self talk that had tried to bubble to the surface. When Steve’s eyelids float open again he sighs.

“I know you were thinking about it, but we’re not making it to that fucking party. I don’t care what you say.”

The laugh you let out is strangled. Rocketed right back to old times and the root of your teasing friendship. You go to swat at him and he grabs your wrist, nipping at the back of your hand.

“Hey, it’s your fault for being so sexy. Think I got my fill fucking you once? Not a chance, baby.”

His grin lights up the room. You manage to match it.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

~*~

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 7.5k

Chapter 1/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Late August, 1996. 

July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana. 

The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior. 

“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool. 

“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it. 

“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”

The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking. 

You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”

She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”

You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.

“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”

Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights   has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.

“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”

“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too. 

“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in. 

“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”

Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”

“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”

An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended. 

“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”

“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated. 

“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.  

“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do. 

“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.” 

The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”

“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.” 

Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.  

“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said. 

A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.

“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.

“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.

Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.

The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.

“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol. 

“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically. 

Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”

Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself. 

Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink. 

“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth. 

Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band. 

You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”

She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”

You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis. 

“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt. 

Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name. 

Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat. 

“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.

“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”

“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.

But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”

“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”

He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”

“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”

“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.

“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”

You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence. 

“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.

Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.

Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.

“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”

“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.

“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”

He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”

“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.

“Turned thirty last month.”

“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.

You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.” 

End of conversation.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs. 

“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”

Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.

“You still want to?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”

Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home. 

You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.

A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.

“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.

The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.

Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.

“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.

“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…

Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”

You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building. 

The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.” 

You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.

Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.

“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin. 

“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.

“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it. 

Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.��

You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.

“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”

“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers. 

Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.

Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.

You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth. 

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”

He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him. 

“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend. 

“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.

“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.

“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.

“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”

“Huh? What?”

“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.

“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”

Stay for a bit, baby.

It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock. 

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!” 

He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you. 

You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.

You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.

You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.

“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”

That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”

Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.

You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.

“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.

“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night? 

“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”

“Yeah…is Jess there?”

He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”

“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.

But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.

Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”

Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.” 

His…son?

Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”

“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”

“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”

“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.

“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”

You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?

The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.

Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.

“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.

“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.

“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”

“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.

A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”

Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.

You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best. 

The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.

“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.

Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…

And a Harris Munson.

“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”

The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.

You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes. 

“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”

“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead. 

“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie. 

“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”

You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now. 

“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”

The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks. 

Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”

“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys. 

“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks. 

“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek. 

You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”

Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”

“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded. 

After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.

“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”

He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”

“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”

Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.

Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.” 

Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.

“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.

You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris. 

Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts. 

“Excuse me?”

“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face. 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”

Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

Taglist: @littlepotatobeansworld @kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @definitelynotecho @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday @breezybeesposts @tlclick73 @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @krahk

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[jeanbie]

IF I LAY HERE (WOULD YOU LIE WITH ME?) ★ masterlist.

pairing: eren x reader

genre: best friends-to-lovers-au, actor au, fluff mostly | warnings: fem!reader | wc: 2.6k

note: hey. i still love u guys and i am still pining over aot. will never stop probably. anyway, this was an older fic i wrote but i'm handing it down to eren! title is taken/inspired from chasing cars by snow patrol (my fav song)

⏤ Eren has had enough - it's been four months since he's last seen you, and he's not going to let his fame status keep him from seeing you any longer. He just hopes that you feel the same way when you see him again.

Eren was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that.

It was risky taking any step out of his apartment at any moment; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the bushes in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame. 

Granted, he’d expected it to be worse now that he'd booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Eren takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face.

For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the actor from Attack on Titan who didn’t give a damn about the people who essentially made him and his friends famous.

But Eren thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in a different country, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures.

You were at university now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally saw every day months before. It had been four months since Eren had seen his best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.

You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.”

Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses resting on the end of his roundish nose. He led Eren out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”

Eren smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”

Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Eren. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road waiting to cross, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”

That was three minutes ago, but Eren's still playing that sentence on a loop in his head. She's gonna freak out when she sees you.

He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. He’s missed it here, and how unbelievably, shockingly awful it all looks when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of it online.

“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Eren says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”

“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only really became a super fan three months ago. I'm more into Levi, you know how it goes. And yeah, I figured it out eventually. Finally, I understood why so many people at this uni wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”

Eren frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy online when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”

Frank shakes his head and grins at Eren as the words die out in his mouth.

“Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours…it’s kinda like family, you know?”

Eren feels his stomach flip, butterflies going haywire. These butterflies are bitter and relentlessly fast, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Eren is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister.

You’ve never been his sister, even when you became part of his family growing up on special occasions, or even just on a daily basis when you came to visit. There were times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different than that; you both knew it but never dared acknowledge it.

Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice and tall, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Eren remembers looks a lot like your dad’s back in the day. Might be the same kind, might be a vintage.

He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Eren, but then the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here - he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.

“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”

He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.”

He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were seventeen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep a secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left whereas Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.

Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the market, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Eren manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down.

As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person - white walls and a bed set that’s white and covered with little peonies. Above your desk, Eren recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at university who Eren always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his head against the wall your bed is attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.

Speaking of which; the song playing in the bathroom ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Eren hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race.

Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and… And, then what?

Maybe you wouldn't even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Eren was travelling the world with his other friends and film crew while you were still here, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Eren was burdensome to you. Worse - maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.

Eren's always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Eren feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be able to give you, even with all the money and the fame.

The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.

“Jesus, Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”

“No fun,” Eren teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause, and Eren cocks his head, his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him.

Suddenly, he hears small but quick thuds across the carpet and Eren feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling when you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.

The grin that reaches Eren's eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape at his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Eren absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Eren feels it in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Eren rises up to a more comfortable position. “What the fuck!”

He laughs out loud, and when Eren wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.

“Don’t care.”

He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck.

Eren smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow body wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds him of Cabbage Patch babies.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”

“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”

“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jet lag.”

That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jet lag, Eren realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming. 

Eren kisses behind your earlobe, and then just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Eren was always a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this.

You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Eren feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8.

Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop - it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid’s bow.

He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the dazed confusion on your face as he moves the hair from across your face to around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows.

“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.

“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but… Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean…the guys know I’m here. Jean drove me to the airport with Armin.”

“That’s not what I mean, though.”

Eren sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”

“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. It's only a few. Most are really nice!”

“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by--”

“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. You frown and try to change the subject, “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”

“I've been growing it out,” Eren replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”

“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”

“For you,” frowns Eren dramatically.

Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Eren's underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle.

The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Eren even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you, half as a joke, half not. That could be why Eren feels the way that he does, why the confusion wraps around his body and traps him.

Eren knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.

Eren knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. EREN YEAGER GOES TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND…BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT A.O.T EREN IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…

He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s why he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Eren might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, if all those years of confused relations and flirtations meant anything, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant being able to spend one more day with you.

Eren's got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to filming with more regrets than he came here with, and so for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth.

Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be said on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Eren doesn’t think it will be worth it.

Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. You hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease, then you didn’t mention it. He almost wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy being here.

Fuck.

For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it 'til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.

It has to be perfect, and until then, he’ll just have to be patient, even if it breaks his heart more by pretending.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling No Outbreak AU - Ch. 1: Rodeo

When Ellie sees you riding at a rodeo, she knows you have to teach her. Chapter 1 of the Yearling No Outbreak AU found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Yearling

CW: Fluff, Joel is a really dedicated father and we love that for him and for us, friends to lovers, no use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only.

Length: 4.1k

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“No freakin’ way.” 

Ellie’s eyes were wide and she was smiling bigger than Joel had seen her smile in what seemed like forever as she watched the rodeo. 

It had been his idea to take her to the fair. He thought it would be good for her - get out, have some fun, take her mind off things for a bit. He offered to bring along a friend of hers from school, too, but she just gave him a look. 

“What,” she said. “Going to fly Riley in from Boston?” 

“Was kinda hopin’ someone a bit more local,” he said, awkwardly cupping the back of his neck. “Must have someone you’d like to hang out with…”

“Welp,” she said, flopping back on her bed and holding her comic book over her head. “Then I’m afraid you’re shit outta luck, old man.” 

He wasn’t sure how much fun she’d have just hanging out with him all day but she’d seemed to be having a good enough time. He showed her how to shoot the air rifles at the games and she dragged him through a fun house and they both delighted in all the deep fried snack options. 

It had been Ellie who wanted to go to the rodeo. Joel hadn’t been to one in years, not since he was close to Ellie’s age and he’d gone with his dad at this same fair, but it was something that Ellie wanted to do. And, after the last few years, he was happy to do whatever made her happy. 

He just hadn’t expected her to fall completely in love with the horses and one rider in particular. 

“We got a real special treat for y’all here today,” the announcer had said. “Now, she ain’t competing today - and let me tell you, every man in the building is thankful she ain’t because they’ve all lost to her at one time or another - but we have the one, the only queen of the rodeo scene doing a showcase in a few events today, startin’ with trick riding. Five time world champion -“ 

There was a loud whoop from behind Joel and he missed your name but he watched as you rode out into the arena, standing on the backs of two horses, a foot on each animal, one hand on the reins and the other high in the air waving at the crowd as you guided the horses past the stands. He watched - just as in awe as Ellie - as you jumped the horses and threw your body around on them as though you were a gymnast on a bar and not a 2,000 pound animal. 

He was awed again when, between other events, you stayed on the back of bucking bronco far longer than any of the competitors and again when you demonstrated roping calves. He didn’t think the announcer had been joking when he said the men here were thankful you weren’t competing, he had a feeling you blew them out of the water every time. 

“Hey Joel,” Ellie said when a girl who reminded Joel of Sarah when she was younger was doing her trick riding routine. “She’s out there again! I think she’s a coach…” 

He looked where Ellie was pointing and she was right, you were standing at the edge of the arena, switching between fidgeting with your necklace and yelling as the girl nearly dragged on the ground from the side of the horse. 

“Think you’re right,” Joel said. 

“Think she teaches lessons or something?” Ellie asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“I dunno baby girl…” Joel said, hesitant. 

“Can we find out?” She looked back out at the arena. “Because that looks so fucking cool.” 

“Language,” Joel said and he caught her eye roll out of the corner of his eye. He sighed. “But yeah, we can see if we can track ‘er down after the rodeo, see if she’ll teach you. She may not be anywhere around here, though…” 

But Ellie looked so fascinated, so happy, Joel knew that the location didn’t matter much. He’d figure something out. 

After the rodeo, the two of them made their way around, against the flow of people, finding the entrance to the place where the livestock and competitors were and Joel caught sight of you, talking to the girl who reminded him so much of a young Sarah. A man stopped to talk to you and you gave him some direction before he came toward where Joel and Ellie were standing and watching. 

“‘Scuse me,” Joel said as he went past. He stopped, frowning slightly at Joel. “Sorry to bother you but… well, we were wondering if you knew that woman there, the one who was doing the showcase riding before.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “I know her alright. That’s my sister.”

Joel tried to ignore the way his heart beat a little faster knowing that this guy wasn’t your husband. 

“Can I help you with anything?” He continued. “She’s also my boss, I work at her ranch.” 

“Was wondering if she did any teaching…” Joel said. 

“Because I really want to learn how to do that shit,” Ellie cut her off. “So fucking cool.” 

“Ellie!” He gave her a look. “Come on, baby girl, language.” 

“Sorry,” she flinched. 

Joel looked back to the man. 

“Anyway,” he said. “Was hoping she was taking new students…”

“She is,” the man said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a business card, handing it over to Joel. The words Triton Ranch were embossed on the front. “I’m Richie, you can email me there and I can help get you all set up for…” 

“Can you believe this shit?” You stalked up to Richie, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Been out here for 30 years and there’s still this sexist bullshit…” 

You seemed to notice Joel and Ellie standing there then, looking them up and down before raising your eyebrows to your brother. 

“Some new potential clients,” Richie said. “Interested in riding lessons.” 

You looked between Joel and Ellie again. 

“Which one of you?” You asked. 

“Me,” Ellie said, sounding almost giddy. 

“Good,” you said. “Need more women out here, some of these men… We’re based near Austin, that work for you two?” 

“Perfect,” Joel said, trying to not stare at you because damn were you pretty, especially this close. “That’s where we are, too.” 

“Tuesday, 5:30 p.m.,” you said. “Come with boots with a one inch heel on ‘em, you need something to help you stay in stirrups. I got other safety gear you can use… HEY ASSHOLE!” 

You stormed off mid-sentence, stalking up to a man who didn’t look remotely prepared to deal with you grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and yanking him around to face you before shoving him back. 

“Alright, that’s my cue to go rein her in before she does any real damage,” Richie said, going to follow you. “See you Tuesday, 5:30!” 

“Tuesday, 5:30!” Ellie called back before turning to beam at Joel. “This is going to be awesome.” 

Joel watched as Richie pulled you back from the man you were trying to pick a fight with, your eyes going wide like fawn, a look of almost innocent indignity on your face as your brother stepped in. Joel resisted the urge to smile a little, the idea of something like Bambi picking a fight. You were… something. 

“Think you’re right,” he said. 

***

Tuesday 

“Savvy, that horse is gonna walk all over you if you keep lettin’ her do that,” you said, watching her from near the fence, your thumb looped through your husband’s wedding band that hung from a chain around your neck. You fidgeted with it, sliding it back and forth as you tried not to panic at your daughter being on the back of a dumb broke horse, tried to remind yourself that you’d been on unbroke horses younger than she was now, tried not to hear Mark’s voice in your head, already nervous about Savvy wanting to go into the same line of work as you. “You gotta be firmer than you’re used to…” 

“She’s not responding though,” she said, huffy. 

“Because she’s not well broke yet,” you said. “You’re the one who said you wanted to try your hand at breaking horses, you gotta keep them under control…” 

Nova, the horse Savvy was on, started pawing anxiously at the ground, tossing her head. 

“Savvy,” you said cautiously, stepping closer and gripping the wedding band tightly now. “Ease up, she’s gettin’ restless, dismount if you can…”

She nodded but when she adjusted, the horse bucked and you shot forward as Savvy gave a sharp shriek, ending up on her back. You had to jump to grab the reins out of the air and did your best to pull Nova into a one rein stop from on the ground as Savvy scrambled out of the way. Nova stilled quickly, her nostrils flaring. 

“You OK baby girl?” You called to Savvy, keeping your eyes on Nova, staring her down. 

“I’m OK,” she called back weakly. “But ow.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Told you you were gonna get thrown at some point,” you said before reaching a hand up to pet Nova’s muzzle. “And what’s your excuse, young lady? Hm?” 

She huffed. 

“Can’t go throwin’ people,” you said. “You think you get treats when you behave that way? Hm? Because now I gotta get on you and take you around real quick to make sure you know you can’t get out of shit by doin’ that and neither of us is going to be happy about it.” 

She huffed again. 

“Well, s’long as we’re in agreement,” you said, keeping the reins in your hand as you ran it over her side. You mounted her and she tossed her head. “Savvy, back behind the fence.” 

She sighed. 

“Yes, Mom.” 

You kept a tight hold on Nova, your knees tighter to her ribs than they usually would be. You eased her into a walk, then a trot, gradually up to a gallup as you took her around the pasture before realizing that you had an audience, the large, handsome man from the rodeo a few days earlier with his teenaged daughter standing at the fence with Savvy and Richie as you rode back around. You brought Nova over and pulled her to a stop near them, the man watching you with a small, crooked smile on his face and fuck, he was handsome. Tall, broad, tan. Exactly your type when it came to men. 

“Now I know you didn’t forget,” Richie smirked a little and you wanted to kick him. Just because he knew this guy was your type didn’t mean he had to rub it in. “This is Joel and Ellie, they’re here for her lesson.” 

You nodded, catching your breath a little before introducing yourself. 

“And I didn’t forget,” you said, shooting Richie a glare. “Just had to get wild thing here under control before I put her away for the day. Don’t worry, Ellie, not putting you on her. I’ve got just the horse to get you started on.” 

You dismounted and gave Nova an approving pat before turning to Savvy. 

“Can I trust you to get her settled?” You asked, brows raised. 

“I can do it!” She said, a little defensive. 

“Alright,” you said, and she climbed the fence and took the reins from you. You shed your hat now that you needed to look up at Joel and jerked your head toward the barn. “Follow me.” 

Ellie was on you like glue and you looked down to see that she was in a pair of cowboy boots. 

“Good,” you said, nodding at the shoes. “You’ll be thankful for those when you’re trying to get a grip on a horse. You ever ridden before?” 

“We did a trail ride once,” she said. “But that was a few years ago, right?” 

She looked back over her shoulder toward Joel. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Before… Yeah, it was about three years ago now.” 

You nodded. 

“Take it you like animals?” You said as you made your way through the stables, going for the stall of the horse you’d had Richie get ready for this lesson. “Sure hope so, since you want to learn riding.” 

“Hell yeah,” Ellie said. 

“Ellie,” Joel said, a warning tone in his voice. 

“Sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes. You smiled. “Yes. I do. Even though Joel won’t let me get a dog.” 

“We can talk about it when you’re off school for the summer,” he said and you tried not to frown. If she was calling him Joel, he wasn’t her dad. You hoped this girl hadn’t been through too much, she seemed like a good kid. 

“Well,” you said, coming to a stop at the stall. “You can come hang out with Shimmer here even if he doesn’t let you get a dog.” 

Ellie’s face lit up, looking at the horse with a huge smile on her face. 

“Shimmer is a rescue,” you said, reaching up to scratch behind her ears. “Got her when she was a yearling a few years back from an unlicensed breeding operation. Poor thing was underfed and skittish as hell but she came around. She’s a real sweet, gentle horse and she loves when people can be real sweet and gentle with her. Think you can do that?” 

“Yeah,” Ellie said, smiling at you. “Definitely.” 

“Good,” you smiled back, reaching to a bin mounted between stalls and pulling some feed out. “Hand out, palm flat.” 

She obeyed and you gave her the feed. Her eyes went a little wide. 

“Now keep your palm real flat and hold it out for her,” you said. “You’ll feel her teeth kinda brush your skin a bit but she won’t hurt ya.” 

She obeyed and looked on in awe as Shimmer ate from her hand. 

“Go ahead and give her a pet,” you said when the feed was gone. “Let her smell you first and once she nudges your hand, she’s OK with you touchin’ her.” 

Ellie did as she was told, Shimmer pressing her nose into her hand almost immediately now that she’d associated Ellie with food. You smiled a little as Ellie beamed. 

“Hey Shimmer!” Ellie said affectionately, petting her gently. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing?” 

Shimmer chuffed happily and Ellie looked back at Joel. 

“She likes me!” 

Joel chuckled. 

“Yeah, think she does.” 

“How about we take her out, get you on her,” you said before turning to Joel. “Just assuming Richie got you all set with the paperwork and whatnot?” 

“He did,” Joel nodded. 

“Good,” you said. “Thank God for him, lord knows I don’t got the mind for the paper pushing side of this operation.” 

You nudged the two of them back and got Shimmer out, giving her an affectionate pat as you led her toward the pasture. 

You worked with Ellie for two hours and she was a natural. She was very in tune with her horse, learning how to apply pressure and how to work with her body weight quickly. Before too long, she was ready to do more than walk her a little and you got your favorite horse, Perseus, out of the stable, only putting a bit and bridle on him before jumping on him bareback so you could keep pace with Ellie on a trip around the pasture at Shimmer’s natural walking pace. 

To your surprise, Joel didn’t go and sit in the car or even scroll on his phone while you worked with Ellie. He just watched, leaning against the post fence with his hands lightly folded in front of him, a small smile on his face as she made progress. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a parent - or parent figure, you supposed - quite so engaged, especially for a first lesson. 

“Alright,” you said as the time was up and you dismounted your horse, taking the reins from Ellie. “Hop on down, we can take Shimmer back to her stall and you can say goodbye until next time.” 

“I can ride her next time?” She asked, eyes bright. 

“Course you can,” you said. “Shimmer can be your horse for a while.” 

“Hear that, Joel?” Ellie called, more jumping off the horse than anything else. “Shimmer can be my horse!” 

She started running for the fence without paying much mind to where exactly she was running, slipping on a puddle and going down quick into a pile of mud. 

“Shit,” you swore, running over to her, just catching Joel damn near hurdling the fence to do the same out of the corner of your eye. You got to Ellie first, kneeling beside her, and she was laughing, flat on her back and covered in mud. You breathed a sigh of relief. “You alright there, kid?” 

“I’m good,” she laughed, sitting up and looking at her mud covered hands. “Don’t know if he’ll let me in his truck now, though.” 

“Scared me, baby girl,” Joel said, joining you. “You hit your head or anything?” 

“Nah,” she said. “Just got nice and gross…” 

She reached out and smeared some mud on his arm, near his watch. He tried to look irritated but didn’t quite manage it. 

“Alright, kiddo,” he said, standing up again and offering her his hand. “Think there are some towels in the truck…” 

“If you’d rather,” you said quickly. “You can shower before you go. I’m sure Savvy has some sweats you can borrow until you’re back.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s way better,” Ellie said before Joel got a chance to respond, taking Joel’s hand and wiping her hands on her jeans. It didn’t seem to make much difference. “Because this is - sorry, Joel - fucking gross.” 

You laughed. 

“Yeah, welcome to ranch life,” you said. “C’mon, we’ll go up to the main house, get you cleaned up a bit.” 

You cut through the barn and asked Richie to get Shimmer and Perseus settled before getting Savvy from where she was sitting and reading, perched on a stall door next to Nike, your oldest horse that you’d bought off your old boss when you started your ranch 10 years earlier. 

“Savvy, this is Ellie,” you said, introducing the girls. Savvy looked like she was stifling a laugh and waved. “Ellie, this is my daughter Savvy. Savvy, do me a favor, we’re goin’ to the main house to get Ellie cleaned up before she heads home, can you show her where your bathroom is and get her something to wear home?” 

“Sure!” She said, hopping down and walking up to Ellie. “Nice to meet you. Are you learning how to ride?” 

“Yeah!” Ellie said brightly. “It was so f…freaking cool, I was on Shimmer and she was so soft and…” 

“Oh yeah, Shimmer’s the best,” Savvy said knowingly, the two girls walking ahead. You smiled a little, watching them as they talked, fidgeting with Mark’s wedding band again. 

“You really don’t gotta go through this much trouble,” Joel said, staying alongside you as you followed the girls to the large white farmhouse you called home. “I’m sure I’ve got some towels in the truck and I’d hate to get your house all muddy…” 

You scoffed. 

“This is a ranch,” you said. “The house sees mud every day. It’ll live. And it’s no trouble. I’d much rather send you home with a bag of muddy clothes than a muddy kid.” 

Savvy led Ellie upstairs, a little trail of mud behind them that made you smile. You’d clean it up later but, strange as it was, you loved the little signs of the life you led now. The one where you worked with horses that were yours or that you picked who to sell them to, got to work with passionate kids like Ellie and got mud on the floors of the house your husband had fixed up for you when you’d bought it for a steal years earlier. You kicked off your boots at the door. 

“C’mon,” you said, jerking your head toward the kitchen. “Let me get you a drink.” 

Joel just stared at you for a moment before following you, stopping at some of the pictures on wall as you went to the fridge. 

“Sweet tea?” You asked. “I got stronger stuff, too, but not sure how much of a drive home you’ve got…” 

“Tea’s good,” he said. “Thanks.” 

You poured him a tall glass and got one for yourself before joining him at the pictures and handing him the drink. 

“Thank you,” he said again and you just nodded, taking a sip yourself and looking at the pictures that you so rarely noticed individually anymore. Savvy’s school portraits, pictures of her on podiums, you at the world championships… 

“This your wedding day?” He asked, nodding to one of the bigger pictures, one of you in an floor-length white eyelet lace dress, the toe of your best pair of boots peaking out the bottom as you smiled up at your husband, who was standing beside you in his black jeans, a button down shirt and tie. 

“That’s it alright. Me and Mark,” you smiled, toying with the ring around your neck again. “Eleven years ago now. Doesn’t feel like that long but damn has a lot happened.” 

“Eleven years is a long time,” Joel said. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks, but we only made it nine,” you said, taking a sip of tea and looping the ring onto your thumb. Joel frowned and looked over to you. “He died, just over two years ago.”

“Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” 

You shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I mean… well it’s not, it is shit, but it is what it is, you know?” 

“I do,” Joel nodded. “My wife, Tess, died, too. September, 2023. Cancer.” 

“Shit,” you said this time. “That’s so hard. I’m sorry.” 

“Like you said, it is what it is,” he replied. 

“We could start a club,” you said. “The ‘it is what it is society for young widows.’ Membership fees are fuckin’ high but hey, at least he company is good.” 

Joel snorted. 

“What, too soon?” You asked, teasing lightly. You weren’t sure why you felt so comfortable talking like this with a virtual stranger but you were. There was just something about him that felt familiar, comfortable. It was something you hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

“Nah,” Joel said. “Just right.” 

“Good,” you said, taking another sip of tea. 

“Tess is part of how we ended up here,” Joel said. “Ellie taking lessons here, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, brows raised. “Was she a horse girl at heart?” 

“Not really,” Joel laughed. “No, she was from Detroit and not much of a naturalist but… well, her dying hit Ellie real hard. We adopted her about four years ago and her and Tess were real close. We were gettin’ on fine just the two of us for a while but then I had to move back here to help my brother out with his business so she lost the closest thing she had to a mom and then less than two years later left all her friends, too. It’s been a rough time for her. Watching you ride at the rodeo was the happiest I’ve seen that kid in months and lord knows I’d do anything to get her to smile again.” 

You smiled at him. 

“Turns out, all it took was a horse,” you said. 

“And you,” Joel said, watching at you with an almost uncomfortably honest look on his face. You realized then just how close you were standing to him, how fucking good looking he was - noticing him in a way you hadn’t really noticed a man since your husband died. Your heart sped up. 

“OK way less gross now,” Ellie said from behind you, making you jump and you and Joel turned to look at her. “Also, way more pink.” 

You stifled a laugh, Ellie in a pink sweatsuit of Savvy’s. 

“Well ain’t you pretty,” Joel teased her lightly and she glared at him. He smiled. “Alright, now what do you say?” 

“Thank you for the shower and the clothes,” she said. “Seriously. I was gross.” 

“Yeah,” Savvy scrunched her nose. “You really were.” 

You walked the two of them out to Joel’s truck, Ellie already telling him excitedly about everything she learned with you that day. 

“Sounds like I’ll see you back same time next week?” You said to Joel as Ellie got in the passenger seat. 

“Yeah,” Joel smiled. “We’ll definitely be back.” 

“Good,” you smiled back. “Looking forward to it.” 

Joel looked like he thought for a moment before he nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.” 

A/N: I hope you enjoy what will be a pretty short look into how things go in a no outbreak reality for Joel and Bambi! I went ahead and tagged everyone on the Yearling tag list, I hope that's OK! Thank you for reading and caring about these characters, I really cannot thank you enough for this journey we've been on together. It's been such a blessing to share it with you. Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

[goodbuckcharlie]

The lake’s embrace | Luke Hughes

Summary: Jack’s neighbor and first friend in New Jersey outside of the team, has finally ran out of excuses to avoid going to the lake house. She has avoided going in the past for two reasons. 1) after a traumatic experience she has been afraid of deep water 2) she doesn’t get along with the youngest Hughes. But when shit hits the fan it’s Luke who saves her life.

Warning: near death experience, fear of water, childhood trauma/abuse, mentions of death.

Notes: This story means a lot to me as it hits close to home, also it’s the first story that made me actually sob while writing it, for that reason I have decided to do minimal editing.

The young florist is coming home from her normal 9 to 5 shift from her mother’s flower shop. She wouldn’t trade this job for the world. She loves listening to the stories her customers always carry in. From young men asking out their crush to the old woman buying flowers for her lover’s grave. Sometimes she grows green with envy as she struggles from a lack of romance in her life. She sighs to herself as she reaches for her keys in her purse.

“Max!” The girl knew what her neighbor wanted before he even made it to her door. She quickly remembers the excuse she had came up with in her room the other day in anticipation of this conversation. She regathers herself before turning in the direction of her neighbor. While she was just expecting to see Jack, she is surprised to see Luke there as well.

“Jack shouldn’t you be in bed resting?” Completely ignoring Luke who just rolls his eyes.

“No surgery can hold me down.” Jack flexes causing Max stare at him in disbelief. “Anyways you know what I’m here for, I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

“I’m not sure I can go, I can’t just leave my mom empty handed at the shop.” She knows her mom can handle to shop with the help of her husband but as far as she knows, Jack doesn’t know that, or does he.

“Funny you say that,” Jack replied holding a smile that would rival a Cheshire Cat. This causes Max to quirk her head in confusion, “I went to the shop after you went home yesterday and asked your mom and she said that she will be fine and that you need time to relax.”

“I don’t know why you went through all of that when you know she’s just going to find another excuse not to go.” Luke pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at Max, “Look if you don’t want to go just say that so he shuts up.”

“Glad to see you’re still as pleasant as a melted popsicle Luke.”Max doesn’t know what came over her but as Luke rolls his eyes again she felt something snapped, “You know what, I’ll go. My mom is right I deserve to rest.”

Jack nearly leaps with joy. He quickly tells her all the details she needs to get ready for the trip before the brothers leave to their place.Max quickly lets herself into her place .

The time flies and the next thing Max knows, she on the pier of the Hughes Family lake house. She’s met a few….. characters as she would describe them. From Jack’s flirty friend Trevor to one of Luke’s old college team mates that for the record are way nicer than Luke. So far she has avoided going into the water either by staying inside with Ellen or claiming to be sunbathing. But much like her excuses to avoid coming to the lake house in the first place, her excuses on avoiding the water would run out sooner or later.

“Come on Maxie as much as we love looking at your pretty face from over here it would be better in the water,” Jack calls out from the water. Now Max was use to Jack’s flirtatious remarks so she simply ignores him and continues to read her book.

“Leave her alone Jack if she doesn’t want to get into the water then she doesn’t have to.” Both Jack and Max are surprise to hear Luke stand up for her.

“Awe Lukey finally got a soft spot for Maxie?” The eldest Hughes who met Max a few times before, teases Luke who is standing next to him by the grill.

“Fuck no she’s still annoying, I’m just tired of hearing Jack bitch and moan.” And just as fast as he arrived ,nice Luke was gone and was replaced with the normal hater Luke.

“Oh fight me you White crayon ass bitch,” Max flips Luke off while going back to her book. But she doesn’t miss the roar of laughter the plague the area in response to her comeback.

“I promise Maxie by the end of this week I will get you in the water.” Max ignores Jack’s seemingly harmless threat in order to keep her mind at peace but in reality her heart is racing at the thought of going in the water.

Max avoids the water for the next few days but of course fate wasn’t on her side.

It was the second to last day at the lake house before Max had to go back to Newark. She is back on the pier this time she is just talking to Jack who is telling her some childhood stories. Max had no suspicions of Jack’s plan until she feels herself being picked up from behind.

She looks at the culprit and sees a smiling Trevor who was looped into Jack’s plan.

“Trevor for the love of God I’m begging you, don’t throw me in that lake,” Panic fills Max as she tries pleading with Trevor. But the stupid boy doesn’t see the panic and laughs off her pleads.

“Sorry Maxie no can do.” Trevor runs to the end of the pier and before she knew it she was in the air falling down to her watery grave.

As Max hit the water, she was quickly thrown back into the memory of one of the worst days of her life.

Max loved water as a kid, growing up in Southern California, she was a classic mermaid loving girl. She actually dreamed of being a marine biologist. But one faithful day changed all of that.

Her father was rarely around in her childhood and for good reasons. He was an alcoholic with anger issues. So imagine her mother’s surprise to hear that Max and her little brother had been picked up early from school by their father.

The then 8 year old Max had no clue what was going on, but she was just happy to see her dad. What she didn’t know was the evil plan her father had. Now a lot of the small details are a blur to her , but she vividly remembers her father driving his car into the lake with her and her brother in the back seat.

Now she tried her best to pull her brother out of the water, but she was fighting against the raging current that kept pulling her back down into the water. The raging water and the strength she needed to save her brother was too much for her frail body and she ended up passing out from exhaustion before she could get out of the water.

When she woke up, she found out she was the only one to survive the crash.

Everyone head turns when they hear Max’s scream. It wasn’t a normal scream, it was one of pure fear. Everyone looks at the situation with confusion. Well everyone but Luke who run into action and runs to the end of the pier and dives in after Max.

Without thinking he grabs Max and pulls her to land.

“CPR she needs CPR.” Luke shouts panicking. Jack’s girlfriend, Sam, runs over to where Luke lays Max down at. Luckily Sam use to be a lifeguard and she has kept up to date on her cpr certification.

Luke leaves Max in Sam’s care before going over to his panicked brother. Luke shoves Jack.

“You should have fucking listened to her when she said fucking no Jack.” Luke shoves Jack even harder. “She can’t swim dumbass.”

“Hey it’s not his fault, she should have told him she couldn’t swim.” Trevor stands in between the brothers.

“No mean fucking no Trevor, she doesn’t have to tell us shit beyond no.” Luke now pushes Trevor, “You nearly killed her for what? Shits and giggles?”

Before anyone could say anything else, they hear violent coughing. Luke glares at Jack and Trevor once more before rushing to Max’s side.

“Luke? You saved me?” Max asks with a raspy voice. Luke simply gestures to Quinn who is holding a water bottle. Quinn understands and hands Luke the water. He helps Max drink. “How did you know?”

“About a month ago, I found you drunk in the hall,” Luke recalls.

Like had just came home from his late night gym session, when he sees a female figure sitting outside of his and Jack’s apartment door. He assumes it’s one of Jack’s weird stalker fans. But as he got closer he realized it was Max.

Now Luke has a crush on Max but the poor boy is a hopeless romantic. His failed attempts of flirting through teasing had came out ruder than he intended creating a bad impression towards Max. So when he sees the girl he likes, drunk at his door step he can’t help but be concerned.

“Max?” Luke puts down his gym bag when he hears the sobs coming from Max, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lukey’s birthday.” This statement confuses Luke since his birthday wasn’t til September and it was currently April.

“No my birthday is in September.” He sits next to Max and she automatically puts her head on his shoulder.

“Noooo my brother Lukas.” She slurs her words, “I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t save my little brother.”

She tells Luke the story. Luke feels a mix of anger towards Max’s father as well as sympathy towards Max and her loss.

“I am such a bad person,” Max cries even louder, “If only I was stronger, my brother would have lived to turn 16.”

“Maxie it wasn’t your fault, you were 8,” Luke does his best to comfort the drunk girl, but he knows she probably can’t even hear him in her drunken state.

So he just holds her as she cries in the hallways until she passes out. He grabs her keys that were fortunately in her hands, and he carefully tucked her into her bed.

“God I thought that was a dream,” in that moment, Max think she would have preferred going back into the water than dealing with the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Awe you dream about me?” Max turns red and she quickly turns away from Luke, “Don’t worry I dream about you too, quite often actually.”

She snaps her head back at Luke in shock, “You do? But I thought you hated me.”

“I never hated you,” He says while running his hand in her wet hair, “I am just horrible at flirting.”

“Flirting? Why would you flirt with me,” She looks at Luke for a second before putting one and one together. “OHHHH, really?”

“Yeah unfortunately,” she shoves Luke with the little strength she has, “but we can talk about this later, let’s get you inside and warm.”

Luke picks Max up as the two ignore everyone else.

“Wait what the fuck you mean unfortunately? You fucking uncooked spaghetti noodle.”

[kotoku]

ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

synopsis - Splitting off from your friends, you are left wandering in the dreamscape of Golden Hour. Expensive designer stores to extravagant restaurants and bars lined the streets with excited dreamchasers flocking towards their merchandise. Yet here you were, looking to indulge yourself in a couple of drinks at a small bar after gambling your Aideen tokens away. However, a familiar, punchable face is back and here to stay.

pairings - aventurine x nameless! reader part ii

content - enemies to lovers but we are slowly reaching the lovers part, character shenanigans, aventurine playing tour guide, lots of fluff/light moments, slight pining towards the end lol

warnings - none

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

Your stay in Penacony thus far has been an..interesting one.

After entering the dreamscape, you were transported to a place known as Golden Hour, a bustling city district where shops and food vendors flourish with countless dreamchasers flocking to see their merchandise. Surprisingly, you had stumbled into the Trailblazer while walking down the street, making small conversation before the two of you parted ways. They seemed to be muttering something about ‘origami birds’ when they scurried off..how strange… 

Nonetheless, you continued weaving through crowds of dreamchasers, eyeing the different stores with their bright and..lively advertisements. You found the little creatures strange but intriguing, chuckling at the way they would hop around and follow you. But to your horror, as you crossed the street so did the little billboard, getting run over in the process. You went to help it back up but by the time you got to it, it had already picked itself up and left. 

“All of this feels like a weird fever dream instead of a dream… People should really be cautious when driving here even if we can’t get hurt.” You muttered, shaking your head before walking up a flight of stairs. 

The place you were now at was called Aideen Park. Casino machines were lined in circles with a bigger one as a building, a small bar and lounge area, and a band playing in the middle of it all. You stared at the scenery in awe, taking a small stroll around the park and using the few Aideen coins you had to test your luck with the slot machines. Despite your dull luck, you still had a fun experience with the huge slot machine that towered above you. 

“Better luck next time, I guess...” You sighed, sulking over to the mini bar area they had for dreamchasers. Taking a seat at one of the stools, the bartender had come over to you to take your order. 

“I’ll take–” 

“Personally, the Classic Soul Glad isn’t that bad of a drink. You should try some, friend.” A voice interjected, coming from the seat beside you. 

Turning to your left, you were met by the same blond bastard who stirred some trouble up at the reception desk. 

“We meet again, _____,” Aventurine smirked, his glasses tipped forward while swirling the contents of his glass. 

Before you could politely decline and order the drink you were going to order, the bartender had already walked off to start making it. With a sigh, you turned your gaze to the right to eye the suddenly enticing exit. 

“Come now, don’t treat me like a stranger. We’re friends after all!” He gave you a shit-eating grin, leaning forward to wrap his arm around your stiff shoulders. “If I recall, friends don’t just ignore each other.”

“Neither do friends stalk one another on their way to their hotel room, but here we are.” You grunted, shrugging off his arm. Aventurine held up his hand to his chest, a big frown on his face. 

“You wound me, _____.” He dramatically cried, slumping against the counter.

“Don’t be such a drama queen Aventurine.” You rolled your eyes, bringing up the glass of Soul Glad the bartender slid over to you.

“I’d rather be a drama queen than a boring one.” You heard him mumble, taking a sip of his own drink. Rolling your eyes, you chose to look at whatever the TV was displaying. Not to your surprise, it played a bizarre advertisement for the Charmony Festival, bright colors and patterns fluttering across the screen. Looking at its dizzying display started making your head hurt, so you turned your attention to something else. Anything but the man that was sitting next to you.

“How are you liking the festivities so far? Anything caught your interest?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, reluctantly turning to face him so you could respond. 

“Mm, I’ve been looking at some of the stores… Other than that, nothing else really. I saw a billboard get run over today.” You hummed, leaning against the counter. You held your drink with one hand, watching the ice clink to one side as you rolled your wrist to stir it. You had to admit, the drink did loosen you up a bit, making you feel a little warm inside. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the drink had reminded you of another from a distant planet… 

When Aventurine heard the last part of what you had said, he almost choked on his drink in surprise at the bluntness. “I’m sorry– what?” He coughed, covering his mouth with the back of his fist.

“What?”

“...Nevermind.” He waved it off. “Anyways, those were the only things you saw today? Nothing else caught your eye?”

“No? I was going to continue looking around later, why do you ask?” You eyed him suspiciously, watching as his grin grew a little wider. With his fingers drumming against the counter, he spoke. 

“Why don’t I show you around? It would be quite a waste to not explore.”

Aventurine playing tour guide? Now this couldn’t be good.

“I think I’ll pass.” Standing up from your seat, you fish out some cash for the bartender. “I’ll be taking my leave now, thanks for the drink.”

“W-wait–!” Aventurine sprung from his seat, chasing after you after he paid for his drink. You were quite the fast walker, he noted, finally managing to match his pace with yours.

Making an attempt at losing him was futile, proven by the fact that no matter what you did to get him off your tail, he was always right behind you. Through large crowds of dreamchasers, confusing paths, and many stairs, he was able to navigate through it all to keep up with you. 

Eventually, you gave up trying to explore in peace, opting to listen to the gambler speak about some of his favorite spots in the dreamscape. From the casino he frequently visits, to expensive designer clothing stores, and even fancy restaurants or bars that have a refined taste for food and beverages. It was no surprise that Aventurine had an expensive palate.

As of now, the both of you were checking out a clothing store that had multiple floors. From silk pajamas to leather coats, the store was huge and contained all articles of clothing that caught both you and Aventurine’s eyes. 

“What do you think about this one?” Aventurine asked, striking a small pose as he flaunted a magenta button-up with gold trimmings. He had a pair of slacks to match accompanied with his usual belt. You had to admit, it brought out the colors of his eyes perfectly.

“It..suits you.” You finally replied after eyeing the outfit. Aventurine grinned at you. Pausing, you spoke up before you could think. 

“It really brings out your eyes.”

Aventurine’s grin faltered, taken aback by your blunt compliment. He knew that the tone of your voice and expression held genuine, yet it was odd seeing you expressing your true thoughts other than shrugging him off. His grin came back, yet this time, it seemed a little bigger.

“I appreciate the compliment, friend.” 

Aventurine went back in to change into his regular clothes while you wandered around, checking out clothes that piqued your interest. It wasn’t long before Aventurine popped up right next to you, startling you.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he laughed, “Did you find something you liked?” 

You put back what it was that you were holding, not really wanting him to see what style you were into. “..No, there’s not much that matches my style.” You lied. He stared at you for a moment but shook his head. 

“If you say so.”

As you two started walking away, Aventurine made a mental note to come back at a later time, glancing at the hanger you were just holding. 

Exiting the store and back onto the busy streets of Golden Hour, you were about to speak before Aventurine interrupted you. It seems he always beats you to it…

“There’s..a place that I want to show you. I’m certain that you’ll enjoy it.” Aventurine tugged you along by the arm, navigating through dreamchasers and vehicles. You had no other choice but to go along with him, but you didn’t mind as you were curious as to what he was going to show you. 

After slipping past some Bloodhound guards and Dreamjolt Troupe members, the two of you finally made it to a small lookout overseeing some construction going on in Golden Hour. Although you wanted to question Aventurine’s methods of getting here, you couldn’t deny the scenery the place had to offer.

The view was breathtaking. The Penacony Grand Theater was in the far distance, stars streaming through the sky before ultimately fading out. The soft glow of the sun permeated the dark sky, mimicking the sunsets you’d often see in the waking world. There was a light breeze, expected as the two of you were quite high up, pedestrians and vehicles just specks beneath your feet. Walking towards the railing, you rested your elbows and gazed out at the horizon. 

“This..place… How did you find it?” You turned your head to Aventurine who took his place next to you, his arms crossed over the railing. Somehow, he looked more ethereal than before. Blond locks swept past his face in tune with the breeze, the lighting from the sun dancing across his skin which almost made it seem like he was glowing. You would never in a million amber eras want to admit it but… Aventurine was truly captivating.

Unbeknownst to you, he had thought the same.

“I stumbled across this place when I was scoping out the different dreamscapes.” He answered, eyes sweeping over your face. “The scenery here was.. beautiful so I figured that I’d show you this hidden gem.” Aventurine didn’t know whether he was talking about the place or you, but he shook his head to rid those thoughts.

“…Thank you, Aventurine.” 

“My pleasure, _____.”

Both of you lingered there for a moment longer, engaging in conversation with small pauses when either one of you was lost in thought. His presence was comforting, allowing you to bask in the moment and reveal smaller details about you. Naturally, he did the same, but still maintained his own distance as did you.

You forgot how much time passed as you were lost in conversation, exchanging small banter with Aventurine which would end up in laughter. When you pulled out your phone to check for any missed messages, you noticed that there were a few urgent matters that you needed to attend to. It seems this small “tour” session would have to come to a close… You felt a pang of disappointment hit you. 

“My crewmates are worried about me, I should get going…” You sighed, turning so your back was against the railing. “Thank you for playing tour guide.” Aventurine snickered. 

“No problem, I had fun.” He paused. “If..you’d like, would you like to meet up again for dinner sometime?” You noticed him adjusting his gloves and clothes, eyes meeting yours with a nervous glint. With a smile, you pushed yourself off the railing and started walking off in the direction of the exit.

“Sure. I’ll see you soon, Aventurine.”

“See you, _____.” 

Aventurine stood where he was, watching your figure slowly disappear. With a satisfied hum, he figured that he should get going as well before his colleagues got on his case. As he started walking, however, he noticed a small slip of paper hanging halfway out of his pocket. Unfolding it, there was a string of numbers with your name on it. 

‘Your contact info? How lucky of him.’ He patted himself on the back. 

With a delighted smile on his face, he walked back to the main streets of Golden Hour. 

Aventurine could not wait to see you again.

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - i'm back with another nameless! reader fic for aventurine. :) after a long longgg while i finally got some motivation to continue it and i had lots of fun writing it. i hope you all enjoyed!

[fraugwinska]

DoubleTrouble No. 2 - Missionary Impossible

Yes, we did Team up again - the wonderful @macabr3-barbi3 and my humble self wrote another DoubleTrouble fic, based of a hilarious FranticFanfic game result (If you are a writer and have some friends who also indulge in fanfiction, check the game out: www.franaticfanfic.com - Your throat will hate you but the laughter makes it worth it!)

This time we give all of you Vox Lovers a real Treat! Mine is the Readers POV, while Barbie provided Vox's POV - get the TV's dirty version right here.

And now, without further ado:

Explicit Sexual content - Minors DNI - 18+ - 6.5k words

You had to admit: Breaking into Lucifer’s personal vault was your boldest and most impressive job yet. You had your concerns - normally you didn’t take jobs that seemed too shady or downright wrong to you - but you didn’t steal anything powerful, just a bottle of his vanished wife’s perfume. You shake your head at the memory. Most certainly one of her many, still very active superfans, kind of icky to be honest. But money talks, and boy did that client talk.

The only downside had been that for the first time, the 666 Evening News had a picture of you.

Granted, blurry, obstructed and absolutely not usable at all - but it still irked you to no end. They didn’t call you the ‘Traceless Thief’ for nothing.

But even though no one was more the wiser about your identity, even though Lucifer begrudgingly stopped looking for witnesses, even though the gossip on the streets about speculations who the Traceless Thief could’ve been died down - ever since that night, you felt like you were being watched.

The next jobs you take go without news coverage and media attention, and yet, you grow more and more paranoid. Hell has many eyes - figuratively and literally - and you feel them all on you. But there is work to be done and a living to be earned - and the tiny alibi antique bookshop you keep definitely doesn’t provide. No one sane wants old shit in hell - and the rare specimens that do and visit the dingy little space under your apartment come and go, disappointed in the stock you barely keep.

Which is fine by you - you only really need it for one thing. The PO Box.

The wonderfully boring, uninteresting PO Box of the ‘Dusty Pages’ bookshop was your portal to the real money. Hell had become a lot better the day you mastered the powers the underworld granted you: No physical barrier could contain you. Being intangible granted you freedom, and to return to the profession you were best in: Stealing Shit.

Of course, noble causes like overturning corrupt governments by breaking into officials homes and publishing their many crimes was still stealing, if you ask heaven that is, and it landed you in hell. You gave up being salty about it, and made the best out of the situation.

“Hey Frankie. How’s the wife?” The post office clerk, a grumpy looking crocodile in an ill-fitting checkered suit huffs.

“Still fucking annoying, as always. Each day I’m getting closer to bribing an exterminator to kill the bitch just to shut her up for good.”

You chuckled, leaning on the counter and tapping your fingers on the scratched wood.

“Aw, did you burn the meatloaf again? You know Alice hates that.” Frankie gives you an exasperated look, which you meet with a mocking grin.

“You want something? Except for getting on my nerves?”

You shrug, twirling a tiny key on a string around your finger. Frankie, and by proxy Alice too, were parts of your harmless, boring, inconspicuous appearance. Just a normal young sinner, just a normal errand to run, keeping normal small talk with the clerks.

“Just checking my PO Box. I’m waiting on a few rare books I ordered to restock.”

“Uh-huh. Tell someone who gives a shit.”

The crocodile turns away, adjusting his small, round reading glasses and eager to ignore you. Perfect.

“Always nice to chat with you, Frankie.” you say and saunter over to the little door with the number 13. The quiet click always sounds satisfyingly like a little exclamation of joy and like cashflow, and under the ‘Old Crap & Thingamajigs’ catalog you found what you were hoping for. A thick envelope and a letter - new jetstream-bathtub, here you come.

God, why were the VoxTech maintenance uniforms so fucking skimpy?

You grumble silently, cursing yourself that you haven’t grabbed the male one. But that would’ve been suspicious, and you couldn’t afford to be suspicious today. Not if you want to get the job done and live to tell the tale. 

The Vee Tower is full of cameras, hundreds of tiny, red blinking lights next to crystal clear lenses, and dead spots were hard to find and a rare occasion. So, when you couldn’t shift through the walls, you had to look like you belonged. And apparently, a fucking laced, black mini-skirt and a top with puffy sleeves that looked more like a fetish bralette was what it took to ‘belong’. The whole point was blending in, not being remembered - and all the female employees from cleanup and maintenance looked the exact same as you. So, unless one was walking around with a bag full of personnel files on hand, you looked like anyone else on this floor.

You stepped into the elevator, the keycard your client had sent you along with the money and initial job offer in hand. Wherever that person got those precious credentials, you were grateful for them because it gave you an easy way to bypass all the layers of security that VoxTech imposed. All that hassle for an incriminating photo.

You sighed when you pressed the button to floor 66, where the CEO of VoxTech enterprises had his private apartment. Vox.

The name was even more intimidating than Lucifer's to you. While the king of hell was aloof, inactive, disinterested in the ongoings of hell, Vox was the absolute opposite. He knew every little secret. VoxTech had millions of eyes and ears. It was a well known fact that he kept his all-seeing spycams on the whole pentagram and his pliant audience in his steely grasp. Always on top of the times, on top of the news, on top of the sales and on top of any business, shady or not, in hell. In the eyes of the citizens of the Pride Ring, Vox and his partners Valentino and Vevette owned practically everything. He had the largest audience in the history of hell, the sharpest wit and the keenest, calculating eye on the prize - a charming manipulator that was considered very much dangerous and not to be underestimated. Which is why you had to plan your gig for a time you were certain he wasn't around.

A shame really - you couldn’t deny, despite his ruthlessness and questionable business practices with which he had built his empire, you kind of admired the self-made TV-demon that rose to overlord status and made quite a big name for himself in stellar time. That, and he was nice to look at too, even with a flatscreen for a head. Oh well.

The ding of the elevator brought you back to the job at hand, and with confident steps, you glanced up and down the corridor. There were a few cameras pointed to the apartment door, but you found a dead spot not far off, and with a content smile, you walked over as if to inspect the carpet, just to shift as you were out of the camera's angle, your body transpiring through the wall, and with a quiet thud, you were inside.

That was the moment the lights went out.

A power outage was the last thing you had expected - in the Vee Tower of all places. The one place in hell that burst with electricity, and you would laugh at the irony if you weren't so tense. The timing is suspicious,and with a beating heart you shuffle forward, trying to phase through the nearest wall.

What the fuck?

You furrow your brows and huff, irritated. The wall is - well, a wall, and while that was a normal state for others, for you? Unimaginable. Your hands are resting against the concrete and steel, normally easy peasy to walk through. But you feel the hardness under your fingertips, much more intense than it should and almost stinging.

Conventional route it is, then, you think begrudgingly and slowly make your way through the corridor, listening into the stillness of the apartment. The corridor led into a spacious living room - flat, modern couches that screamed money and luxury arranged in a half circle, surrounded by various screens, all turned off. In the middle you see the outlines of a metallic, lavish coffee table, empty and clean like in a catalog. It was the kind of space that wasn’t really meant to be lived in, but to show just how much you had that you didn’t really need. A show.

You scanned the room. There was an open arch leading into a kitchen - also polished and top notch empty, not the cluttered mess you had in your apartment - and a closed, narrow door, likely a storage room. But at the opposite end of it, you see a faint, blue stripe of light, teal blue, luring you towards it. A night light maybe, or some indirect mood lighting shit that was all the rage since LED’s hit the Pentagram a few years ago, shining through a cracked door. Intentionally inconspicuous, your brain whispers, but anything was better than the dim darkness you were stumbling in now. 

When you reach the glowing gap and peek cautiously into the adjacent room, one hand almost on the handle, a groan makes you freeze before you could register what you are looking at.

Oh satan.

Vox.

A LOT of Vox.

The overlord was fucking home, and not just that. In his bedroom - your target location - naked, an impressive and glowing cock in hand, working himself in a way he would definitely not appreciate anyone seeing him in. You felt your neck and cheeks flush with heat - another thing you did not expect nor calculate for. But you can’t look away - as surreal and absolutely dangerous this situation is - his deliciously large hands and the sheer sight of his luminous length glistening with precum as he strokes himself cuts your breath short with highly inappropriate lust. The screen in front of him was bright, and for a moment, you were so enraptured with him that you didn’t recognize the silhouette he was pumping himself to.

You.

It’s you.

In this ridiculous maid costume that was unconsciously riding up your ass, sneaking through the corridor, not even half a minute ago. With growing horror you watch yourself taking tentative steps through the living room, the you on the screen hesitating before deciding to move to the left, one arm reaching out to a cracked open door.

“Fuck, yes.”

The words were barely said when your brain kickstarts.

Fuck, no.

He knew. He knew you were here.

In a flight of panic, you bolted for the corridor, back to the door, back to the safety of not-fucking-here, but you couldn’t even make four steps before your wrists were bound by cables shooting out of the walls surrounding you. You ready yourself to slip through them, but again, your powers leave you high and dry again. Helpless, you back away into the nearest wall, and the door opens fully, with the TV demon standing in the frame. Tall, intimidating even butt-fucking-naked, and a cocky smile on his HD face.

“Hello, my dear,” he almost coos and takes a few steps towards you as you writhe in the restrictions, desperately trying to slip out and get the fuck away. “I’m so glad you got my invitation!”

“Invitation?” That makes you still against the cables, your eyes darting over his face, confused. What the hell does that mean? You weren’t invited, you had a job to... Oh. Oh shit.

“You’re the client?”

His face was answer enough, and you would have slapped yourself for your stupidity if he hadn't had you in an iron grip. A loud game-show ding startles you back into the here and now, he was so much closer than before…

“Sure thing, doll! How else was I supposed to catch a slippery little thing like you without scaring you off?”

He traces his fingers down your cheek, his tips sparking with static electricity. How fucked up are you that this turns you on? Not being able to suppress the need to glance at his still shining and ripped cock again, you swallow hard. Where is your sense of self-preservation? Apparently left outside of this apartment, along with your usual foresight and dignity.

Cables wrap around your thighs and with a yelp you feel yourself getting lifted, legs parted by the wires. You almost topple over but are caught by his hands on your arms and faced with a smirk when you press your back into the wall, stabilizing yourself with a reddened face.

“Those didn’t come with the uniform,” He has the audacity to wink at you, nudging to the black lace panties you wear - excuse a girl for not wearing granny panties in the workplace - and you want to retort something snarky to him, when he looks at you that way. 

Within a moment, you realize two things.

Firstly, with the way he was roaming your body, his eyes lingering not only on your face, but your tits and the flimsy underwear concealing your very obvious wet arousal - you were fucked one way or the other. Which should’ve terrified you. Emphasis on ‘should’.

Because the other thing was, that even though he had bound you, even though you were at the mercy of this powerful sinner who tricked and trapped you here, rendering your power useless with whatever-the-fuck… he didn’t seem malicious, but rather… curious? Fascinated? Playful? You can’t really pinpoint it, but something tells you that - if you play your cards right - you might get more out of this make-pretend job than a jetstream-bathtub and hopefully all your limbs intact. And most importantly - you have nothing to lose.

“They're from my personal collection - lucky coincidence that they match the overall vibe of your staff's... uniform." It takes a lot to steady your voice as you talk, with the way his clawed hands run along the insides of your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He cocks his brow, as if he's pleasantly surprised, and licks his lips before he answers, his voice sultry and dripping of sexual tension.

"Mh... Luck favors the prepared, I always say. Oh, and speaking of slippery and prepared, sweetheart..."

You gasp as you feel the soft fabric being pushed aside and long fingers running lightly through your drenched folds. Fuck, you can already tell just how skilled those fingers must be. How great they'd feel deep inside you. Involuntarily, you buck your hips to guide them to where you wanted them most - onto your clit and burrowed to his knuckles - the desperation just dripping from you as he chuckles and lets his thumb glide over the throbbing pearl teasingly teasingly as he pushes one of his digits in. Your head rolls against the wall behind you with a needy moan escaping your lips and you have to bite them to stay focussed for what you were about to do.

"What a sight. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, doll, seeing you all desperate and fucking..."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, replaced by a low, long and stuttering moan. Half shocked, half aroused, he looked down to his throbbing cock, then his head snapped up to you, grinning down on him. You moved your hips again, grinding down on his unmoving fingers, frozen in place at his confusion, confirming your suspicion that he didn't know about your other power. Not as strong as your intangibility, sure, but strong enough for him to feel - and see - the ghostly hand you envisioned around his dick, continuing what he started, pumping him in leisurely, slow strokes. 

"Didn't know about that move, doll." His hand comes alive again, and even though his voice glitches a bit he adds another one, much more tenderly and almost softly, properly prepping you. And judging by the circumference of the cock you feel through your spectral hand, it was more than precaution, but nothing less than a mercy. Mercy you were ready to beg for, given his thumb would continue the delicious circles it drew, just the right pressure, just the right pace to push you near the edge without tipping you over it.

"You're just a whole mystery, huh?"

Now fairly certain your head wouldn't roll at the end of this encounter, you let your last reservations slide. It has been too long since you were in the hands of a skilled lover, one that didn't disappoint, that didn't come too soon or drilled amateurishly into you in search for the g-spot they never found. This one knew what he was doing, finally, and by satan you wouldn't waste this opportunity. Make it a night to remember, and who knows? If you fuck his brains out, maybe he'd be knocked out long enough after for you to make a quick and easy exit. You imagined the spectre hand to twist, its thumb mapping the soft ridges around the crown. That seems to do the trick for Vox, and the look he shoots you deeply satisfies. "Fuck me, that's good."

Playing into this sentiment, you didn’t stifle the moans his damn fingers stroke out of you, the way they glide in and out, pressure on all the right marks without fail is too good to hold back. Your skin felt on fire, even without him touching anything but your pussy, and you felt no energy left to care that your clothes - if you would call them that - seemed to fall apart on your body, skirt pushed up to your waist, top loose around your shoulders and almost down enough to let your boobs fall out. You must look a mess, but then again the overlord didn’t seem to mind - quite the contrary. He looked outright hungry, eyes glitching occasionally with a particular squeeze of your hand or a poignant lustful moan from your lips.

“Do you have to concentrate to do that?”

“A little.”

His fingers hitting that one sweet spot inside you, cutting any other, more elaborate explanation short. Fucking hell, that you had to get tricked and trapped by an overlord to find a man that doesn’t think ‘foreplay’ is the interview before a soccer game was a fucking travesty. Grateful for that fact you withdraw from your own pleasure and decided to reward him, regaining your concentration enough to imagine a second hand to pay attention to the firm, very plump balls of his, rolling them in its palm and giving them a gentle, tentative squeeze.

“Cool party trick though, isn’t it?”

As if you challenged him, there’s a subtle change in his demeanor - his eyes more inquisitive, his fingers more eager and fervent, and a third one joined the others, stretching you oh-so-deliciously. For a moment you think you’d lose control, the ghost hands flickering before you got a grip on them again, determined to not tip the scales so soon. But you had to admit - it was tempting, to give into this implied command: Submit, let me take care of you, let me fuck you dumb.  

Little did he know, you were all about equality - or nothing at all. And if he was allowed to plow you with three fingers, surely he couldn’t protest against a third hand.

You weren’t sure how you’d manage it… the power was new, still waiting to be mastered, but you willed a third hand into reality, joining the one on his balls, softly working their way down and massaging his perineum. It strained you to no end, operating the conjured hands while Vox was adamant to make you cum on his fingers alone, but with how the cables shook and loosened around you, you were fairly certain it was enough to show him you meant business, your message clear: If anything, baby, we will fuck each other dumb. 

You watch with almost painful arousal how his screen flashes from the three-way-stimulation, his teeth slightly baring from the sensation but without losing his cocky smirk, as if to show his resilience.

"You'd be the life of any party I know, sugar, if you can pull shit like this out your sleeve."

With a wince from you, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gaping, empty and fucking whining at the loss, eyes sharp and with a dangerous glint in them. "But you're not the only one with a few secret talents."

He kneels down then, opens his mouth, and you can't believe your eyes as a thick, long, very analog blue tongue unfolds and licks his lips hungrily and almost impatiently. A hand around each thigh spreading you almost impossibly wide, the hot breath feels chilling against your slick opening, and a brush of the tip of his tongue on your swollen clit makes your toes curl and your muscles tense with expectation. Your gaze, locked with his, breaks only when your head throws back and you moan out his name as he truly begins to eat you out. 

No teasing or games, no building up the tension - it's unmerciful, frenetic, his tongue alternately flickering on your clit with its pointed tip and pushing deep into your core with an almost unbearable thickness until there was no space left to be filled, tasting every little centimeter inside. Instinctively, your real hands twitch in their restraints, wanting to reach out, grab his head, the frame of his screen, fucking anything really just to have something of him to hold onto and push. Your hips can't hold still, but he made sure not to lose an inch as his hands gripped your ass down and into him as if he heard your thoughts, drawing you deeper into his maw as he devours you. Your spirit hands fade in and out, your mind unable to keep them steadily corporeal - he was too good, his tongue was too good, not once did his rhythm falter nor the damn thing slow down, giving you no chance to collect yourself.

Finally - oh god finally - his cables loosened enough for you to dart your hands towards him, finding a saving anchor on his arms. You literally felt like you were drowning - wet and out of breath, senses fogged by that wonderfully violent tongue swiping and licking and prodding and fucking pulsing. When he hummed into your cunt, all dams broke, and you could only stutter “fuck, cumming - oh my God-” before you snapped and you fell into the depths of your orgasm.

Whatever prick, mouth or fingers you had on and in you before - this erased them all. Never before felt your head so light, your cunt so heavy and hell so divine.

His relentless licks make you mewl with every stroke as he rides you through your high, but he just doesn’t stop. Greedy, rawing your abused cunt to a point where moans turn into almost pained whimpers and your body twitches and squirms, begging for him to relent.

Mercifully he understands, and when he stands up, you only passingly realize with a pang of bad conscience that your spectre limbs have dissipated somewhere along the line, leaving him high and dry - only metaphorically, because his cock was soaked in leaking cum.

He hooks your legs over his arm, his other snaking around your waist to lift you from the wall, and you made no motion to resist it, being that the prospect of his soft sheets on his bed were much more preferable than color-coated concrete on your back. The short walk over feels like the eye of the storm - a short illusion of a safe space, and you use it to assess the damage.

For one - the ‘clothes’ you wore were useless now, they did nothing clothes were supposed to do - The sleeves were half-ripped from the bralette, hanging by a thread, and the top itself so far down your tits were fully out, nipples dark and flushed, while the skirt was nothing more than a drape at this point, hiding the mess on your thighs and reddened, puffed lips.

Then you look up through your lashes, up to the best lay you ever had, down below as well as up above. You should plan your escape, should use the time you had now to calculate what to do to get the fuck out while you could - Instead your horny little fucked-up brain was busy imagining how you could draw this out, make him so pussydrunk he’d send another decoy job weekly, just so you could return to that magic tongue again and again.

You were right. The sheets felt soft and obscenely expensive. You spread your fingers, the only real motion you were still able to make for now, taking his roaming gaze and the appreciative expression on his screen as a badge of honor. Your senses tingled, and you blinked one, two times, listening into your powers. The walls of his apartment were prepped by him to prevent you from leaving - electricity most likely, something intangible itself - but the ceiling and floors weren’t.

“Got another round in you, baby?”

You look up to him as he wraps your legs around his waist,lining himself up to you, tip ready and loaded. But he doesn’t push in. He waits, and you could cry as he does so.

Fucking hell, the ruthless media overlord half of hell fears to the point they piss themselves is waiting for your consent.

It’s this unexpected, contradictory duality that draws your lips into a smile. Trapping you in his territory, able to kill you with his goddamn pinkie, and yet the only thing he does is make you cum on his mouth and wait for a ‘yes’ to fuck you mindless - how could you not fall for that? Even more, how could you not test your luck with that?

With regained strength you reach for his dick, fingers wrapping firmly around his girthy base. His body follows your gentle guidance, and he lets himself glide into your ready heat with a groan that sends a shiver down your spine - such an earnest sound it makes you want to return the favor tenfold. And you just knew the way you could.

“You don’t need to worry about my stamina,” Voice like honey, you refocus your mind, visualizing the wicked idea that had entered your mind.

A soft hand. Long, flexible fingers, slick and smooth and ready. It formed as you thought it, stroking the cleft of his ass, halting at the tight ring of muscle it found, testing his reaction with a teasing, light press against his opening.

The reaction was priceless. Face glitching, hips jerking violently forward into you as its fingers pass his entrance and slide into him, coming to a halt at that one, very sensitive spot. His breath is ragged and eyes fucking wild, but the way he bends down, gripping your hands to entangle them with yours and pressing as much midnight-blue skin against yours tells you that he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“Worry about your own,” you whisper against the skin of his chest, grinning at the way he shudders at the sultry tone of your voice and the challenging eyes of yours, hilted in your pussy still, taking the ghostly fingers like a good boy.

“Whatever you did to your apartment, you only did it to the walls - the floor is fair game - ah fuck-”

He found some of his senses back, his thrust surprising your nerves with a sudden jolt of electricity - added by him or imagined by you, you can’t tell. He fills you so perfectly, as if molded just for you, big and hard and absolutely sublime, and when he brings his knees up more and bends you at the waist he manages to push in even deeper, pounding almost at your cervix with increasingly feverish, tough thrusts. Again, he wanted to break your concentration, but this time, you were prepared. You let your body do what you trained it to do - it goes hazy, misty, almost translucent in a blue-ish hue, revealing the vision of his buried prick deep inside you, teal glow in navy mist, before you solidify again and find the strength to grin up at him.

“If you cum before I do, I’m out of here.”

There was a wicked glint on that screen of his, and he upped the pace of his snapping hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

"Guess you'll have to move in then, baby." His voice sounds almost distorted, his body starts to spark with fizzing bolts of electric energy, and when he grips the headboard with one hand to gain more momentum to fuck even faster and stronger into you, you almost want to take him up on that quip, convinced his apartment was equipped with more than just a boring jetstream hot tub.

Your spirit fingers stroke in a come-hither motion over his prostate, over and over, varying in pressure, intensity and speed, and each swipe makes him moan a little louder, driving his dick a little deeper into you. It's becoming a race towards a finish line none of you wanted to get to in the first place, a fight of wills and bodies, pushing you to your limits judging by the way your oversensitive pussy clenches, begging for release once more. But by Satan himself you did not intend to lose without a good fight, your fingers raking over his lithe back and the sharp edges of his body, lingering, scraping, writing wordless praises into his skin in red streaks.

“In fact, sweetheart,” he says as he pounds you and your pants become out even louder, “I’ll make you cum so hard you don’t want to leave - you’ll scream my name so loud they’ll hear you down in Wrath, know exactly where you’ll be living from now on.”

Vox, too, is close, you can see it, hear it, most importantly feel it. One hand remaining on the headboard, the other scoops you up by your neck, pulling you onto his face in a kiss so breathtaking and fierce you almost pass out. It's sloppy and lustful, it's lips against lips and tongue on tongue, and your ability to use either becomes redundant when you and him both simultaneously cry out, orgasms overlap and intertwine, you cunt clenching tightly around his pulsating length, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum into you as your own release drips onto the soaked sheets below. Your eyes roll back, the fingers buried inside his tightened ass vanish and your muscles relax. With his hand still on your neck, claws digging into your skin, he slowly brings you back onto the mattress to let you fall together with him.

Silence settles for a second. A brief moment of stillness and clarity, sweat cooling your skin, hearts slowing down and breathing returning to normalcy. You feel the aftermath of his touches everywhere. His marks litter you from top to bottom: Your wrists and thighs are covered in red streaks from the tightness of his cable bondage. Your whole skin tingles from the waves of his inherent electric current. But most telling of all was the pooling mess inside of you, already leaking.

You let yourself feel the weight of his body on yours - it's an intoxicating feeling, the heat radiating off his dark blue skin, and the subtle charge beneath, a hidden hum underneath your fingertips, telling of the immense power of an Overlord you just let fuck you senseless. Now would be the time to run - his screen was completely blue, turned off while he recovered his breath - if you wanted, you could disappear, and he wouldn't be able to stop you or track you down. But when you searched the depths of your mind and body for regret and the sense of danger it brought - there was none. Only satiated warmth, an afterglow you could bathe in, like a warm, healing balm, easing your aching bones and bruised skin.

And just in that moment of resolve, Vox’s screen returned to show his face, and he lifted his head slightly to look at you with eyes as bright and vivid as the neon signs lighting up the streets of the entertainment district outside his windows.

One Month Later

“Thanks babes, I was about to lose my shit when Velma and Kelly fucking quit on me. Bunch of pussies, those two, seriously.”

You shoot Velvette a smile over your shoulder, adjusting the last couple of details on six of her girls, ghostly blue hands hovering around them - clipping a collar here, buckling a shoe there. You pity the two foolish girls - the runway show had Velvette occupied tonight, but tomorrow - well, you were sure Vel was about to annihilate their sorry stylist asses for blowing her off last minute… and not just with a snarky post on Sinstagram.

“No problem, Vel, that’s what I’m here for.”

The small woman laughs sarcastically, but not in the usual mean way, but a playful one, a friendly one. That was one of the things you could pride yourself on - That Velvette, social media queen and judge of what’s hot and not, fell in love with you almost as fast and hard as Vox did.

“Darling, we both know that no one really knows what exactly Vox hired you for. What was the job description he pulled out of his flat ass again?” she raises a cocky brow, sipping obnoxiously on her iced coffee to go in her hands, holding out another, identical one for you. “Ah, yes, ‘ASS’.”

You take the drink from her, smiling mischievously back at her. When Vox came up with that title, he didn’t even notice the ambiguity of its abbreviation, and you let him stew over it for almost a day before you told him, silently convinced your fingers left a memorable impression. “It’s ‘Administrative Services Specialist', and what can I say? My resumee was very convincing.”

Velvette snorts into her vanilla foam. “Funny name for your cunt love, but you do you. Now shoo. Didn’t you and flatface have a date tonight?”

You wave her a quick goodbye, sipping up the cold drink in one gulp and throwing it into the trash as you bypass it, hurrying down the hall and plucking the private keycard from your back pocket. You scan it at the elevators, noticing the other employees backing away from you, and you couldn’t hide the grin that flashed your face. No one dared to ride in that elevator with you, a very badly kept secret that it sent you one way straight to Vox’s apartment, and every one of them would rather chew glass than be caught by whatever awaited the opening elevator doors.

And Vel was right - you had a date with Vox, a special one at that.

Barely three weeks ago you actually did move in - call it a whim of insanity, call it fate - and since that, your days were filled with a job in the Vee Tower that you actually liked (no one shed a tear at the ‘Dusty Pages’ closure notice) and the nights were spent naked, sweaty and blissfully explicit under, on top and any other possible way with Vox in his bed. You learned something new about yourself - with the right partner, you were almost insatiable. Another thing you learned was that Vox seemed to feel just the same. Lucky coincidences indeed.

But date night was something special. Giving up the alibi bookshop was easy enough - but you were adamant that you still wanted to do your other jobs.

Not because of the money - Vox provided generously, and wouldn’t take a cent from you (although you managed to convince him to let you buy him at least snacks and small gifts, an exception you abused to the absolute limit). No, you actually liked to sneak through the night, liked the thrill of moving in the shadows and shifting through secured buildings. Liked the excited arousal you felt after a completed heist.

To preserve your secret, you and Vox decided that you wouldn’t reveal your main power to the others at Vee Tower, the only other people who knew were Velvette and Valentino.

The latter wasn’t your biggest fan, and who could blame him, giving that you were living with  and fucking his ex-lover, but he had his own flings and things to take care of, and after a few occasions where you stepped in to help him out at shoots and with his scripts, he at least became cordial towards you.

But date night was where you went out to do a job, secured through Vox for one of his many business partners, and the pool of people the TV demon had on hands that needed or wanted something of value was a bottomless pit from which you could choose the ones you liked the best. And your digital lover not only organized your gigs - he became your eyes and ears, your literal partner in crime.

The doors open, and Vox stands waiting, leaning, in the doorway, arms crossed and a grin on his face.

“You’re late, doll.”

“I know I know, but Vel needed some helping hands - you know I can’t leave her hanging.”

“Oh, I saw.”, he chuckles, his screen switching from his face to images of you from the security cameras on Velvettes floor, close ups of your face, your tits and ass sprinkled in between. ”You know I can never see enough of you, gotta keep those cameras on.”

You scoffed, but did so with a smile before you kissed him and ran off into the closet, undressing quickly while he followed you, letting himself fall down on his bed and watching you intensely as you peeled your clothes from your body and slipped into your signature skintight suit. By the time you were changed his cock was hard, straining his pants which you acknowledged with an appreciative smile.

You both exchange longing looks, but time is ticking. You put the newest addition to your equipment in your ear - a tiny, wireless headset, directly connected to Vox, bend over the bed, your tongue running over the warm line of his lower lip and sigh as he groans with want.

“I know it’s usually payment upfront, baby, but we’re already behind schedule.”

You can’t seem to tear yourself from him with those big hands on your ass squeezing tightly and that goddamn tongue in your mouth, your mind half decided to tell your client to fuck off and fuck the demon in front of you senseless. But he gently pulls away, his eyes burning not only with need, but also with pride. A look you loved to see on him.

“And besides, you are so much more voracious after a job well done.”

He slaps your ass as you pass him, and you shift through the wall, now almost as eager to steal that stupid looking red duck from some dingy, rundown hotel as you were to return to his waiting cock to cash in your salary.

[saltofmercury]

Part two <3

Pairing: König x reader

Summary: Aftermath of Games

A/N: just kidding!!! Here's part 2! Happy February fools!

Games part ii

König stood inside his empty house. He never understood why you were so childish sometimes. He never understood why he couldn’t communicate. He wasn’t upset at you, he just assumed you had wanted privacy when reading a card addressed to him. Shit, he would want privacy reading a Valentine’s Day card. 

He walked to the end of the couch, seeing the discarded card on top of his coffee table, with your mug next to it. The blue and yellow pieces of Sorry!, had been left untouched, seeing that König was going to win one more round.

He smiled at the game, the colorful mug you left, and then, at the card. What a shitty way to end the night.

He sat down and reached over to open the card again, small colorful hearts surrounding it. He knew what this meant. The card clearly wasn’t a token of friendship. Making friends was hard for him. The minute he found someone like you he just wanted to keep that platonic relationship he had craved so much as a child.

He loved how you two created a friendship from the start. He felt so comfortable and secure around you. He could sit around his house and do nothing. He never had to think about entertaining you; he could just be him at his house.

You guys would play games on the nintendo switch, or you would watch him play games. There was a comfort between you two that you shared. He waited for phone calls from you to talk about your day, sometimes he felt like you were so far away when you stayed at your place, went to work, and then called him at night.

Although, there were many cases where your “friendship” crossed the line into “lovers.”

He knew what you did to him. He couldn’t help how his heart ached at night when you wouldn’t spend the night. How waking up in the middle of night because of a nightmare had him reaching for you, feeling your warmth next to him, calming him down. 

He loved the way his body gravitated towards you, wherever you were in the house. How he needed to take a hug from you, steal a kiss from you, even just the way you touched the small of his back trying to get through when he was standing in the kitchen. 

Especially when you guys made love in the dark, he remembered the curves of your body, the sounds emitted from you, the placement of your hands on him wanting to touch all of him, and breathy moans and slow exhales you exerted.

Friends did not do this.

He knew he liked you, but he loved your friendship as well. Most of his relationships either ended as friendships that never blossomed, mostly in part of the men and women that were being polite telling him “I think I see ourselves as friends” and did not want to continue the relationship, or quick hookups that would fizzle out because he could not  reciprocate what they wanted in a relationship.

He opened the card, god… he felt like such an asshole. Scribbled across the entire card was your perfect penmanship, confessing to how you appreciated this relationship but wanted more.

*

You stared at the ceiling in your room. 

God you felt stupid. Taking a leap of faith based on what you had felt. It was clear that you misread things, but you weren’t going to continue being in a situationship. You had made up your mind. 

Embarrassment filled your chest and head, and you could feel the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes.

Your phone next to you pinged.

Well so much for space.

“Checking you made it home okay. Are you alright?” 

Read the message from König.

You kind of hated how he didn’t chase after you. He always lets you storm off during an argument. It wasn’t like in the movies or books you read about romance.

Another ping.

“Can we talk?”

It was now or never. 

“I’m fine, I can talk.” You typed out.

Your phone began to buzz and your heart started to beat so fast and loud in your head. You answered it.

“Hi”, the hoarseness in your throat sounded awful.

“Hi schatz, man.. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m not crying” you lied, 

“I know when you’re crying, I know when you’re upset.” He said sternly.

“Okay m’sorry” you exhaled, feeling reprimanded instead of comforted.

“I want to come over, can I?”

“I just want space right now, I think it would be best if you don't, I don’t like crying in front of you.”

Fuck why were you so stubborn?

“Hartnäckig…” he mumbled. He knew you were being stubborn. 

“Okay then I’ll stay on the phone with you and tell you this,”

A brief inhale and exhale. 

“I’m sorry I made you feel like this, I didn’t mean for this to blow up the way it did. I just thought, maybe it would be embarrassing for you to see me read this letter in front of you.”

Silence

“I never want to make you feel embarrassed for something as thoughtful as you did, I’m kind of an awful person for —“

“You’re not an awful person König.” You managed to put out.

“I feel like I am. I’m just trying to say, I know it took a lot from you to write these things down and for me to dismiss them without really knowing what was inside the card, it’s awful.”

You sniffled. You wanted to forgive him, but part of you realized he hasn’t brought up where it would place you two.

“Schatz, are you still there?”

“Yeah”

“Can I tell you a story about Valentine’s Day?”

*

After he had explained the story of the kids teasing him, now you felt bad for even thinking that he was trying to dismiss your feelings.

You guys stayed up until 4 in the morning mumbling to one another childhood stories. 

You laughed softly.

“I love when you laugh,” he said softly over the phone. “I miss you, I wish you were here tonight.”

“I know I’m sorry for the miscommunication on my part.”

“On our parts…” he started up again.

“Why don’t we go to sleep?” You suggested trying to finally let go of the miscommunication that happened.

“I can’t sleep without you, ” he responded.

You sighed, “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming over” he blurted out

“No don’t it’s…” you briefly checked the clock by your bedside “it’s 4 in the morning crazy.”

“You’re going to let me sleep alone?”

“Yes just for tonight” you teased.

You could hear him shuffling on the other end. You knew he was up to something.

“Don’t come over here! I’m serious, it's so late and I don’t want to risk an accident.”

“Schatz please, I want to make it up to you I promise I’ll be safe.” 

He couldn’t bear it any longer. Everything was better when you were next to him and he wasn’t going to let a small squabble prevent him from seeing you or sleeping next to you.

“König…” you started, knowing he was probably looking for his scarf to hide his face, and looking for his shoes.

“Give me 15 minutes.” He hung up the phone.

You sighed, felt shy again.

Within 15 minutes, his black g-wagon pulled up the curb. You saw him climb out in the darkness, his blondish hair glistening in twilight. 

He had barely tied his shoes, some of the laces hanging loose and you could see the scarf hanging down, not wrapped around his face. He practically jumped from the car, to the curb, and jogged toward your door. There was anticipation, no control to see you.

You opened the door before he could knock. His wide legs stumbled in and he had wrapped his hand around the back of your neck connecting his lips with yours. The kiss was urgent, feverish. He opened wider to have your tongue inside his, his other hand pushing, crushing your body onto his. 

You had pulled back, exhaling out of breath. His bare face was there in front of you.

He looked at you, smiled and kissed your lips again.

“I’m sorry I’m such an asshole.”

You kept breathing hard. Mesmerized by his face.

“It’s okay, you’re not”

“I read your letter…” he continued looking down into your eyes, looking at your lips 

“You don’t kiss your friends, and I don’t want to be.” He exhaled, picked you up and carried you to bed.

Dumping you on the bed he pulled off your clothes to just down your underwear and then stripped himself down. 

He smiled, “I know, I know no outside clothes on your bed.” 

Climbed on top of the bed and pulled you close to him. He breathed a sigh of relief, bringing himself to the crook of your neck. 

You also felt relieved, playing with his hair. Everything was okay now. The twilight soon turned to early morning and you fell asleep.

*

When you woke up in the morning, the warmth next to you was cold. Your side freezing and missing him. You reached out for him or the blanket, but König was gone…

You sat up and looked around.

Was it all a dream that you had played in your head? You checked the clock on your phone, 10:15.

You stood up, you could’ve sworn he was here. You felt him last night. You walk into your living room.

Standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by what seemed like thousands of red, pink, white roses was König, gently placing the vases everywhere. Your entire living room covered in petals, and a floral scent surrounding you.

“König?” You say in shock. How did he get so many?!

He turned around sheepishly and smiled

“I told you I would make it up to you.”

[stvharrngton]

closer

a/n: part 2 to fuck about it is here! it’s inspired by another parx song and one of my favourites at that :^)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, exes/fwb to lovers, soft dom!steve vibes, angst at the start

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @variant-lokitty @kennedy-brooke

I got my space but what I’d pay, for you

The red numbers on the clock read 04:37. You weren’t sure what sleep you had managed to get, if any. Steve’s soft snores next to you now are too much of a distraction.

You were in his bed, in his bedroom, but you didn’t feel present. It felt like groundhog day, same old shit different day. You and Steve would hook up after a party or a random phone call at 1AM, you’d sleep over, go back to acting like you hated each other and do it all over again a couple days later.

You went from spending every waking minute together to only seeing each other in mutual friend spaces, to only being close in secret. And man, what you wouldn’t give to go right back to the start.

It all felt too much. Too much being here, next to him, when you didn’t belong here. Not really. You had to get out.

You gently rose from the bed, fearful of waking Steve, tiptoeing your way out of his room and downstairs to the kitchen. You sighed before pouring yourself a glass of water. You contemplated if you could get back to your place in just your panties and one of Steve’s old t-shirts without raising any suspicion.

I need you closer or I need it over

“Couldn’t sleep?” A low raspy voice asked from behind you.

It would have startled you if you didn’t go through this exact routine every other week.

“Something like that.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the cool water.

You felt his eyes on you, raking up and down your body. You couldn’t bear to return the favour, his big brown eyes eager to draw you in. The chest hair decorating his pecs, the boxers hanging low on his hips all too dangerous.

“You wanna head back to bed?” Steve asked, tone calm and quiet, “It’s way too early.” He stretched his arm around your back. A simple gesture yet one you couldn’t stand.

“I’m just gonna go home, Steve.” You shrugged his arm off you, spinning on your heel to start up the stairs again.

“What? Are you crazy?!” Steve started, quick to follow you, “It’s like five in the morning, you’re not going anywhere. Just come back to bed.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Steve.”

The boy had the nerve to roll his eyes, scoffing at your statement under his breath. “Come on, this again?” He was flailing his hands about now, “This was supposed to be fun, remember? No strings attached, no feelings.”

You laughed in disbelief, “You said no feelings, Steve. You said no strings attached. You barely gave me five minutes to process our breakup which you never gave me a real reason for, by the way.”

The tears began to well in your eyes, purely out of anger and frustration. You felt awful inside, full of regret and nausea. Except you didn’t really regret entering this agreement with Steve, not in the beginning at least, longing to get those intimate moments with him whenever you could.

“But my feelings are still very much here, Steve. And it’s just, fuck–, it’s just too much. So, I’m ending it.”

‘Cause you’re the holiday I celebrate too late, you’re the eyes that I gave up trying to captivate

Steve stood there in the middle of his kitchen dumbfounded. Lips moving but no words were coming out. He couldn’t think of anything to say, nothing that would make you crawl back into bed with him at least. Instead, he let you get angrier, get more upset, he let you keep talking.

“You’re so selfish, Steve. We always hookup when you want to, on your terms. You’re saying you never once considered how I felt?”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry, huh?” Steve asked, his tone a little harsh and condescending. He was tugging at his hair now, frustration evident in the tinge of red on the top of his ears.

“I want to know why.” You said, wet eyes blinking up at the boy, your lips downturned into a frown.

“Why, what?” Steve shot back with.

“I want to know why you broke up with me, Steve.” You sighed, shoulders slumped, “I deserve that much from you.”

He sighed, the angry, frustrated look on his face became one of sadness and despair. Tongue poking the side of his cheek, his eyes not able to meet your own. Instead his gaze was focused on his feet, a guilty feeling churning in his stomach.

“Cause I didn’t deserve you, okay?” He began, voice shaky, “So I sabotaged us, broke my own heart before you could, you know? Before you found someone better.”

You thought he was ridiculous, that the reason was some sort of cop out. The typical ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ schtick. But you knew Steve, and you knew when he was being serious or telling the truth and unfortunately, this was one of those times.

He grabbed your arm, wrapped his fingers around your wrist as you rolled your eyes, urging you to stay and listen. “I know it sounds crazy and really stupid but it was easier that way. It was too late before I realised I made a massive mistake.”

‘Cause I love you, or I want to, but I don’t know how

The kitchen was silent, save for the dripping tap in the kitchen sink, the ticking clock on the wall. The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it comfortable. You were appreciative of his honesty, but it didn’t make it sting any less. Knowing that Steve threw your relationship down the toilet because of his self esteem was upsetting, especially when you thought Steve was nothing but the perfect boyfriend.

“Steve–,” your features softened, your pent up frustration faltering.

“No, let me finish, please?” Steve asked, eyes pleading, “It’s the least I owe you.”

You nodded reluctantly, stood barefoot in the middle of the kitchen at five-thirty AM. He started with a sigh, fingers running through his messy bed hair.

“I was stupid,” he started, taking your hands in his much larger ones now, “you know, I overthought everything. I acted crazy, because you– you were perfect and I loved you but I just didn’t know how to.”

His speech was heartfelt and sincere, a real tug at your heartstrings. In your time apart your feelings for Steve never once faltered, you still loved him, adored him. You felt bitterness towards him because he seemed fine, no heartbreak, no tears. What you didn’t know was that Steve’s head was still filled with thoughts of you, thoughts and dreams that kept him awake at night with a chest full of regret.

“Loved?” you breathed, doe eyes blinking up at the boy. You knew you had no right, but it hurt thinking that Steve had ever stopped loving you. Made your heart sink to the pit of your stomach, your brain was telling you to leave, to not stick around long enough to hear the end of the tragic song but your legs simply wouldn’t move.

Steve tried his luck, long fingers reaching up to stroke at your soft cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, missing the soft intimacy you craved so much from your ex-boyfriend.

“Love.” He whispered matter of factly, a soft smile creeping on his lips. “I love you. Never stopped.”

There was something in the way he looked at you, a glint of hope, a glimmer of longing. You tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach, tried to ignore Steve’s soft lips and the sprinkling of freckles and moles across his skin.

“Why wouldn’t you say something, Steve?” You spoke softly this time, a total 180 of your prior tone. So badly you wanted to wrap your arms around him, to pull him in closer but your head was fuzzy, unsure where you stood.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed jokingly, “I thought you’d never want to speak to me again, let alone have a serious conversation where I begged you to take me back ‘cause I’m a giant idiot.”

“You’re right,” you chuckled, “you are a giant idiot, Harrington.”

“You can say that again.” Steve sighed, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks now, thumbs stroking over your skin, “I know you probably have loads of questions which I will definitely answer, but right now all I can think about is kissing you.”

“Are you asking if you can kiss me?” You asked, a subtle teasing lacing your tone. Voice playful and hopeful. Steve was right, you did have questions and you had no idea where you stood but all that could wait. All you wanted was his lips on yours.

“Can I?” Steve whispered, voice all saccharine sweet, low and sultry. Lips inching in closer to yours.

You let your actions speak for you, hands climbing up his chest, dainty fingers finding their way to Steve’s neck. You saw a glimpse of his smirk before your lips were brushing against his own.

You let yourself melt into the kiss, Steve’s soft lips sucking you right in. The kiss felt different than usual, rather than hot and messy, rushed and horny, it was sweet, passionate. Slow and soft. It felt like Steve, your Steve.

It felt like a lifetime that you were stood in Steve’s kitchen, lips melding together perfectly. His large hands began to wander your body, fists bunching his old t-shirt that swamped your body. You pulled away from one another, foreheads resting against one another, the tip of Steve’s nose brushing along the slope of yours, chests heaving as you both took a breath.

The pair of you both sported wide grins as Steve mumbled out, “That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” You replied, voice all sing-songy, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip playfully, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah?” Steve chirped, thumb swiping over your bottom lip, “How ‘bout right now?”

You squealed when he wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around him, heels crossed at his tailbone. His lips were back on yours in an instant as he carried you through to the lounge, falling back onto the couch with you in tow.

Steve’s hands wandered down your back as you were perched in his lap, your fingers curling through the strands of soft brown hair atop his head. Steve hummed at the feeling, the vibrations rumbling in his chest as he kissed you a little harder, a little deeper. You were no stranger to makeout sessions with Steve, even post breakup, but this felt right. This felt normal, like you knew you wouldn’t ever have to skip out at seven AM again before anyone saw you.

The boy pulled away from you, lips pressing short, quick kisses to the column of your throat, mumbling between pecks, “You’re perfect, my beautiful girl.” Steve cooed.

You whimpered at both the feeling of his lips on your neck and the words that left his mouth. You couldn’t help but let it hit you right in your lower stomach, pressure building with every kiss of Steve’s lips, every squeeze of your ass with his large hands.

“Your girl?” You asked innocently, eyelashes fluttering as you felt the heat rise up your body, goose pimples simultaneously covering your skin.

“That’s right, honey,” Steve breathed, “my girl.”

Your hips began to move absentmindedly. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your skin, his hands all over your body, his words an aphrodisiac and the more he kept talking, the more needy, desperate you became.

“And what does my sweet girl want, hm?” Steve asked softly, one of his hands skimming underneath your t-shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, thumb circling over one of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you whined, arching your back and pressing your chest further into Steve’s touch, “you, Steve. I want you. Please?”

He chuckled at how fragile you sounded, your whines and whimpers only serving as music to his ears. “I’m all yours, baby.” The boy responded, hand sneaking lower, fingers circling over your clit over the material of your panties.

You let out a strangled moan at the almost-there contact, feeling the arousal poole at your core. You bucked your hips into Steve’s hand, hands bracings themselves on his shoulders as you began to grind your heat over his meaty thigh, his fingers rubbing at your clit with every movement.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” he cooed, “there you go. That feel good, huh?”

Steve’s voice was syrupy sweet as he whispered in your ear, urging you to chase your high, to make yourself feel good at his expense. You could only respond to his question with a high pitched whine, a sound that had Steve all giddy, grinning from ear to ear.

“God, look at you, sweetheart,” Steve mused, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with lust, “making a mess of yourself all over my thigh. Fuck.”

Your hips began to move faster, desperately trying to get yourself to your climax along with Steve’s fingers on your throbbing clit. You whimpered the boy’s name into the early morning sunrise, eyes heavy and heart longing for him.

Steve coaxed you to your first orgasm with his skilful fingers, soft words of praise and encouragement whispered under his breath. You came undone with a shrill cry, a sweet groan of curse words and pretty noises tumbled from your lips as you shook against Steve’s thigh.

He hushed you with his lips, kisses swallowing up your moans and whines. He hummed against your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you let the tension leave your body.

The boy had a subtle smirk on his face when you pulled away, cheeks flushed and his bottom lip settled firmly between his teeth. You giggled as you tried to hide your face away in the crook of his neck, the smell of sleep still evident on his skin.

“Ah, ah,” he teased, “let me see you.” He spoke quietly, pulling you back gently as he cupped your cheek with one hand. “Beautiful,” he cooed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

You felt the heat creep up your cheeks at his admission, the feeling of Steve’s hands on you and his hard cock pressing into your core through the cotton of his boxers ever present in the front of your mind. You felt him tense as you moved over the bulge gently, the sound music to your ears.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, his large hands moving to your thighs, his fingers digging into the doughy flesh. It only spurred you on, the noises leaving his pretty lips, the way his head was rolled back against the back of the couch.

“Baby,” he whined, “fuck. I gotta feel you. Please?” Steve’s eyes were wide and glassy, pupils dilated and dark. His cock was aching and begging to be touched, desperate to be swallowed by your pillowy walls.

You nodded with intent, standing up to rid yourself of your shorts and underwear as Steve did with his boxers. You watched with a slack jaw as Steve’s cock sprang to attention, hard and thick against the thick trail of hair that decorated his lower stomach.

Breath hitching in your throat, Steve lathered up his cock with his own saliva, fingers wrapping around his length as he ushered you back onto his lap. You held onto Steve’s shoulders as you lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you groaning at the stretch.

You sunk down inch by inch until Steve was buried in your pussy to the hilt. The stretch was a sweet pain, sinful and worth every wince. The boy cursed as you began to move, gentle and slow as you gave him a nod, a hint to pull you along his length. Steve could only abide as he moved his hands to your ass, palms squeezing the flesh as he pulled you back and forth in his lap.

“Jesus,” he groaned, throaty and raspy, eyes trained on your face, how your features were twisted in pleasure, “you feel so fucking good.”

You could only whine in response, mind too busy to focus on anything else except for how the tip of Steve’s cock was brushing that sweet spot deep inside you. You began to move your hips faster, fingernails leaving pretty marks in his freckled skin, your wetness dripping down Steve’s cock, a sticky mess trickling down his heavy balls.

Steve was losing his mind, the sound of skin slapping against skin, your ass coming down against his thighs as you rode him, the poor boy was in a tiz. He didn’t know where he wanted his hands most; your hips or your waist, your ass or your tits, on your face or in your hair. The decision was impossible.

Closer. Steve needed you closer. Sure, your bodies were entwined, his cock buried inside you, your hands all over each other. But it wasn’t enough. He shifted you both forward on the couch, his arms wrapped around the small of your back, your legs instinctively wrapping around his own.

You were sat chest to chest in his lap, his hand shoving your, his, t-shirt up your chest, your nipples free to brush up against the coarse hair of his chest. You both moaned out loud at the close contact, his hands on your back urging you to grind on his length.

“Fucking hell,” Steve moaned, plump lips engulfing one of your nipples, tongue licking over the bud, “you’re amazing. Can’t believe I let this pussy go.”

Word vomit of praise and lustful ramblings was Steve’s tell tale sign that he was close to his own climax, his orgasm right around the corner. Your fingers were stuck in the boy’s hair, your lips flying to his, kissing him like your life depended on it.

“Steve,” you moaned between kisses, noses knocking against one another. Your hips seemed to pick up the pace with every roll, your clit throbbing and aching.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, forehead resting against yours, his big brown eyes wide and enticing. His lips brushed against your own with every word he spoke, “You making yourself feel good on my cock?”

“Yes,” you cried, eyes squeezed closed as you felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten, “please, I’m gonna cum, Stevie, shit—.”

“Yeah? Fuck,” Steve groaned, hand snaking between your clammy bodies so he could rub at your delicate clit. “gonna cum f’me, pretty? Make a mess all over my cock, yeah? That’s a good girl.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moaned loudly, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the beginnings of your orgasm rock your body. Your hips rocked faster, harder, desperately chasing your climax.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, “gonna let me cum inside you? Fill up this pretty little pussy like she deserves.”

“Yesyesyes,” you chanted as the coil snapped, warmth spreading throughout your body as you came undone. Steve wasn’t far behind you, two more rolls of your hips and he was painting your insides with his seed.

He cried out your name like a song, face buried in your neck as his fingers dug in the skin of your waist. His toes curled in the plush carpet as he whined and whimpered into your soft flesh.

The orange-y pink glow of the sunrise over the horizon basked you both in a golden gleam. The rays covered Steve in a pretty radiance, one you hadn’t seen in a while. A weight off his shoulders, perhaps, or an old flame in his lap.

Neither of you spoke for a while, too busy taking in the comfortable silence. You hadn’t moved a muscle, cept to rest your head on the boy’s chest, his fingers drawing delicate patterns on your bare skin.

You didn’t know what this meant for you, both of you were pretty clueless where this left you, where Steve’s confession would take your relationship. But you didn’t care. Not one bit.

You only had tomorrow to look forward to now.

[hrryshoney]

i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck

A/N: here’s a matty sick!fic for you. i’m a sucker for friends to lovers, so sorry to be annoying but here’s that! maybe switching povs, i’m tired so give me a break.

warnings: kinda suggestive maybe if you squint real hard, matty’s in loveeee but readers oblivious, matty’s a little shit. religion? kind of? not really at all, but talks of God is in there. bad writing, idk n idc.

prompt: “can you kiss me? i’m sure i’ll feel wayy better if you do,”

edit: pt. 2 now posted here

You and Matty were friends. Well, maybe best friends. You definitely thought so. You’d been beside him for as long as you can remember. So, you think you’ve earned that title.

Besides him being your, talented, smart, funny, witty and incredibly good-looking friend, he was also your insufferable rockstar friend. The cocky, arrogant one. The one who would tease you until you could feel your face get hot.

And, the one with the weak immune system, apparently.

“Darling?” You heard his call from his bedroom. He had rung your phone at promptly 7:30 AM earlier today. Telling you how he was positively dying, and how you must come over and take care of me, angel. You really must.

“Yes, your Royal Highness?” You say teasingly with a roll of your eyes, walking into his room. He looked positively pathetic. Lying down, wrapped in his white comforter.

Matty pouts a bit at that. “I’m being serious, yeah? Don’t make fun of me, this is awful.”

“Mhm, I can imagine.” You give a little pout, a feigned wave of sympathy. “Did ya need something?”

“How about some empathy?” He scoffs at you, all in good nature of course. Matty needs to get that final banter in. Anything to rile you up, even when he’s sick.

“We all get sick, Matty.” You roll your eyes with a giggle. “I know how you feel, trust me.” You move to sit on the edge of the bed. He unravels his hands to reach out for you, but you move farther away.

“What’s with that, then? Don’t love me anymore? Hm?” He maneuvers his body to be closer to yours.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not trying to get sick.” You ignore the butterflies that roll in your stomach from his grin. From the use of the word ‘love’. Of course you’ve said it to each other before. You’ve known him for almost 10 years, and he’s your best friend. But you can’t help but wish for it in a different context.

“Wouldn’t get sick for me, love?” He laughs and lays back, a little cough accompanied by it.

“Do ya want some water? Cough doesn’t sound too hot.”

“I sound hot without the cough though, right?” He winks, and you cast your gaze to the floor. You let out an unconvincing laugh. It doesn’t get easier as time passes, that’s for sure.

“You’re corny, Healy.” Your lame response feels bitter on the tongue. “Seriously, do you need anything? If not, I’ll go back to the living room and get some work in.”

He gets a gleam in his eye, and his lip quirks up. Whatever comes out of his mouth won’t be good, you just know it. So, you mentally prepare yourself.

“Can you kiss me? I’m sure I’ll feel way better if you do.” He gives that signature smirk of his, like he’s enjoying this all too much. His eyes trace from yours, to your lips, and then back up. You definitely weren’t prepared for that, though.

You feel the heat spread all over your body. Why am I friends with him, again? You glare at him. “Funny.” You say monotonous, unwavering.

“Hey, I’m being serious, darling. The offer is there.” He shrugs noncommittally. Is he joking? Like, seriously?

You never let your hopes get too high. You brush off all his flirting as jokes. He’s got supermodels and singers knocking at his door. You never thought you would genuinely be his type. Just friendly banter.

“Okay, Matty.” You brush it off once again. You don’t want your mind to wander there. Wander there like it had so many sleepless nights. Lying in bed, panting, thinking of him.

“Then come plant one on me, won’t ya?” He taps against his lips with his pointer finger, the biggest smile on his face. You wonder, is this all a joke to him?

“You ask all your friends to kiss you when your sick?” You deflect quickly, not wanting to deal with this.

“Only the pretty girls who are my best friends that come over at eight in the morning for me.” He shrugs with an easy smirk. He really is a little shit. “‘Sides, not even that sick. Don’t think you’d catch a bug from a little peck.”

“Oh, no? Thought you were ‘positively dying, darling. It’s dreadful, innit?’?” You lower your voice a few tones and put on a bad british accent to mock him.

He feigns offense with his gasp. “I do not sound like that! You’re kidding, that’s blasphemous.”

“Ah, yes. Because you’re so holy?” You let out a laugh.

“Mhm, I can have you crying out to God if you give me a kiss?” The look on his face is vile. You want to kiss it away. Smack it away. Do anything then have it taunt you like this, really. You move in your spot on the bed.

“Maybe the fever is getting to your head, Matty.” There’s only so many more poor deflections you can make. He has to notice.

“Awh, you think so?” He pouts in faux sympathy, moving closer. You feel dizzy. You scooch back on the bed.

“Yeah- yeah, think so.”

He smirks. That bastard and his smirk. “Right, what a shame, terrible, really.” He’s up close and personal now. Right next to you. Hand on your face. He brushes a stray piece of hair to the back of your head. You two are looking at each other now. All eye contact.

“I- Matty.” You breathe out. This is all too much right now.

“Yes, what?” Matty sounds annoyed. Obviously wanting to have kissed you before you moved your neck back.

“Don’t think we can- think we should, you know. Don’t wanna ruin anything.”

He sighs. “Who made those shit rules up, huh? Maybe I wanna ruin our friendship? Ruin you, yeah?” His head falls into the crook of your neck, you feel his hot breath. “Think we should just stop with the bullshit. Wouldn’t mind being something other than friends.”

“Matty-“ “Y/N?” He interrupts your unheard sentence.

“Do ya like me? I’m being serious now, angel. Honest, do you fancy me or no?” You’re getting whiplash from this conversation. How is this happening. Why now? How, now?

“I- Matty, I think you know the answer.” you furrow your brows at him and pout. He has to be fucking with you, right?

“Maybe I wanna hear you say it?” He smirks, again. You’re sick of that smirk. You really do wanna kiss it off.

“Jesus, yes, I like you. Of course I do, Matty.”

“Hm, good. That’s good. ‘Cause I like you too, angel.” He gives a grin that makes him glow. A grin that is the personification of happiness. Matty leans in.

[bearr02]

Querencia |Teaser/intro|

Pairing: hybrid!ot7 x f!reader

Teaser warnings: nothing really :)

Summary: When you find a stray, sweet cat hybrid on the street, you absolutely can not say no to taking him in, even if he comes in a pack with two other members. The only issue? You run into more stray hybrids and you just have to take them in.

Genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, hybrid au, strangers to friends to lovers au..

Word count: 900

Member’s hybrid types: Namjoon: German Shepherd, Yoongi: Ragdoll cat, Hoseok: Husky, Jin: Maine coon cat, Jimin: Birman cat, Jungkook: Bunny, Taehyung: Hamster

A/n: I needa stop

But like, I HAD to do domestic hybrids!bts…I just had to

“Okay..yeah I’m on my way.” You mumble, looking around to make sure you have everything before you meet your friend at your favorite coffee shop. “Okay. Yeah see you soon. Mmbye.” You say, taking your phone away from your ear, sticking it in your pocket before leaving your house.

—

“Look who’s finally here!” Your friend says when you sit down, looking at you with her arms crossed and a raised brow. “I know, I’m sorry, I lost track of time.” You say with a pout, sliding into the seat in front of Minji. “You always do.” She mumbles, a pout now on her lips as she fake sulks. You sigh, “I’m a busy woman.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “Lies! All you do is sleep!” Minji says, pointing a finger at you. “Nope! I work, I eat, I go shopping, and I go out to see you.” You say with a grin while Minji huffs, slumping back in her seat.

“Whatever.” Minji mumbles, but you can still see the smile tugging on her lips as she looks at the menu. A movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, looking to see someone scurry down an alleyway in front of the cafe. Your brows furrow but you shake it off as one of those sketchy drug dealers, turning back to the menu. “What can I get you ladies today?” A waiter asks, smiling at you and Minji as she takes out a small notepad.

—

“Text me!” Minji yells, waving at you as she walks backwards in the direction of her car. You smile, waving back at her before turning around to continue your walk. You jump when someone peeks out of the alleyway in front of you. “Y/n!” A voice squeals. You look at the person that peeked out of the alleyway to see the stray hybrid you’ve been meeting with the past couple weeks. “Jimin.” You say, ushering him back inside the alleyway. “You should be careful.” You mumble, peeking behind you at the people walking by. “Hybrid control is getting worse. It’s like they’re on every corner now.” You say, looking back at Jimin to see his ear pinned to his head and a slight frown on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, looking down at his feet. “Hey, no you don’t have to be sorry, I just don’t want you to get stuck in some shit ‘shelter’.” You say, smiling at Jimin reassuringly. “You’re not mad?” He tentatively asks, slowly looking up at you. You shake your head, reaching into your bag to pull out the bag of pastries that you’d got from the cafe. “Figured you might be hungry.” You say, handing the bag to Jimin who’s eyes widen. “Y-you got me food?” He whispers, looking between you and the hand extended toward him holding the bag.

“Yeah..I hope I'm not overstepping.” You mumble, nervously worrying your bottom lip. “N-no I just..wow.” Jimin mumbles, staring at the bag in awe. “Thank you.” Jimin says, looking up at your face again. “Really. Thank you. It means a lot.” Jimin says, hesitantly reaching forward to take the bag from your grasp, almost like he expects you to take it back. You don’t, instead you smile softly and take a step forward for him to take the bag.

He grabs it, still watching your face closely as he takes it from your grip. “I hope you like what I got, we never touched the subject of food so I just guessed.” You mumble, intertwining your hands in front of you. Jimin nods, slowly unrolling the top of the bag, peeking inside before his eyes widen slightly. “Is it that bad?” You ask, mistaking his surprise for disgust. “No no you just..you didn’t have to get this many.” Jimin mumbles, looking up at you. “But I wanted to.” You say, taking a small step forward.

“Thank you.” Jimin says before he walks to you quickly, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Thank you so much.” He whispers, his voice wavering slightly as you wrap your arms around him as well. Your brows furrow when you feel something wet hit your shoulder, gently pulling Jimin away to see his face wet and eyes tear filled as he stares at you. “What’s wrong?” You ask worriedly, gently swiping away his tears only for them to be replaced with new ones. “N-no one’s ever done this be-before.” Jimin mumbles, looking down at his feet as he sniffles.

You frown, “How about we meet here everyday, yeah?” You say, bending over slightly to try and catch his eyes. His brows furrowed as he stared at you with confusion and uncertainty. “I’d bring you food to make sure you’d eat.” You clarify, standing to your full height again. “You don’t have to do that.” Jimin mumbles, shaking his head as he backs up. “I may not have to but I want to, Jimin.” You say.

He purses his lips, looking down again. You sigh, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Be safe.” You say, pursing your lips slightly before you add on a small ‘please’. Jimin nods, looking up at you again. You give him a small wave before you turn and exit the alley, heading toward the direction of your house with a frown on your face.

How long has Jimin been on his own?

A/n: I know I have like 4 fics out right now (counting this one) but like…I couldn’t help myself 😭

I need a domestic hybrid!bts fic in my life..I just need it

Permanent taglist:

@lizzymizzy-blogg @viankiss

Series taglist (open):

[cherriegyuu]

breaking point | yjh

pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader genre: angst word count: 1.5k a/n: something to celebrate jeonghan's birthday, who even writes angst as birthday present?

this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from lover (ts)

Jeonghan ➝ AfterglowThis ultraviolet morning light below Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh ↳ Jeonghan was never one to lose his patience with people, least of all you. But one day a fight gets out of control and it leaves you wondering if your relationship has come to an end.

The sound of the door closing still echoed through your mind. It had been hours since Jeonghan left but you were still sitting in the same spot, eyes locked on the door as if he was going to burst through at any second. 

You knew that he wasn't. At that moment you didn’t even know if you'd ever see Jeonghan again. He was so angry when he left, rightfully so. 

All of your fights had been rational ones, both of you would calm down for a little a while before talking again. The screaming matches weren't something either of you were into but your fights had never gotten that big before. Not even once. 

It seemed as if the one thing you had always been afraid of finally came to light. 

You and Jeonghan weren't well matched, you were too different. From the way you were raised to the way you saw the world. 

Jeonghan had an almost romantic view of everything around him. While he was one to play an infinite amount of pranks on his friends, he was never overly mean about it – if he was mean at all –, and those pranks only happened because he wanted to win whichever game they were playing. To him, because he wasn't someone who would intentionally hurt anyone, it was hard to understand why someone would. And while you thought that was beautiful, that trace of naivety, you also saw it as infuriating.

So when a coworker went over him, and claimed Jeonghan's project as his own, you couldn't hold back the petty I told you he would do that to you. Because you had in fact talked to Jeonghan so many times about it. However, Jeonghan didn't seem to see it, at all.

"I don't think we should be having this conversation right now" he sighed, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. 

He was tired and stressed, the last thing he needed was to hear those words from you. Especially when all he wanted the entire day was to get to you, rest his head over your thighs while you played with his hair.

But you didn't seem to see it or you didn't care, he wasn't too sure. 

"This is the exact moment we should be having this conversation because when morning comes you'll just forget about this feeling and you'll let him or any other idiot out there do the same thing to you  again"

Jeonghan couldn't help the distressed groan that left him. He hated how the whole situation sounded like a joke coming from your lips, how you had this little spark in your eyes — as if you were enjoying his misery.

"You can't possibly be angry at me," you said "I told you again and again that he was an asshole, that he would screw you over the second he got the chance. Like always, you didn't listen. The world isn't this great place, Jeonghan. Your friends are awesome but the world is actually really shitty and, apparently, you're the only that doesn't fucking see it"

He shook his head at you and stood up. Jeonghan pushed his feet inside his shoes and opened the other.

"You're leaving?"

"You know, the most rational part of my brain told me not to come here today" he scoffed, voice slightly rising "Because I knew you'd pull this shit and this was the last thing I needed"

You stood up but didn't dare to move an inch closer to him.

"I didn't do anything!"

"I wanted to be comforted!" he all but screamed "I had an awful day and all I wanted, all I needed, was for you to tell me that everything was going to be okay, that maybe I could talk with my boss and show him that it was actually me who did all the work. But you decided that what I needed was to remember feeling like shit"

All of your neighbors could probably hear the fighting. Jeonghan held the door open, chest heaving in evident distress.  

"Please let me know when you find my girlfriend, because whoever this is" he waved his hand  in your direction "isn't her"

He slammed the door shut behind him, hard enough that you felt the windows shake. 

It had been over three hours since Jeonghan left and the only difference was that you sat back down. You couldn't move or anything else. 

While you were talking with him, you knew that you were pushing him too far, saying more than you should. It wasn't the time, everything was wrong. Yet, you couldn't stop the words from coming out.

You knew that you were projecting. That there was no real reason for you to be acting that way, Jeonghan did nothing and was right, all he needed was comfort. And maybe it was your own insecurities talking, your shit month at work, how although you told him otherwise you always behaved just like him and your coworkers were throwing their work at you and did nothing about it. The you acted with Jeonghan was the way you should have reacted at your own job but the words simply died on your lips whenever they were around.

You grabbed your phone from the couch, it was almost two in the morning. You knew Jeonghan was probably home by then but still, you wanted to make sure. Touching your phone a few times, you called Seungkwan.

"Is he home yet?" you asked as soon as the line connected.

"Hello to you too" you could picture Seungkwan rolling his eyes “and yes, he’s home”

Silence followed. You didn’t have anything else to say and you knew Seungkwan was probably a little angry at you. His voice had a little edge to it. You knew Jeonghan, he probably didn’t say anything to his roommate, but it was written all over his face that you had gotten into a fight. 

“Should I leave the door unlocked?” Seungkwan asked with a sigh.

Finally, your eyes filled with tears and you let out a sob. The tears refused to fall since Jeonghan left. The tightness in your throat was so unbearable that it was a wonder you managed to say those four words tho Seungkwan. 

“Don’t cry, fix it” he said before ending the call.

On your way to Jeonghan’s place, your mind was racing. The darkest part of your brain took over and made you believe that your relationship had come to an end, that the fight had been so bad that you had finally reached a point of no return. It took everything in you to not ask the driver to take you back home. 

There was only one way you could ever find out if it was actually over. 

Like he said, Seungkwan left the door unlocked and was kind enough to keep the lights on in the living room. Locking the door behind you, you used your phone as a guide to Jeonghan’s room at the end of the hallway. 

You opened the door quietly, to not startle him or his roommate. 

Jeonghan had his back turned to the door, body curled into a small ball. You got into bed behind him, legs adjusting to his and you wrapped your arm around his waist, forehead pressed to back.

Jeonghan’s body stiffened for a second and then relaxed once he realized it was you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said before he could say anything “I don’t know why I said those things, why I didn’t just hug you and say that it was going to be okay, that we could find a way to fix it”

Jeonghan turned on the bed, now facing you. The room was so dark you could barely make out the shape of his body, even after your eyes had gotten used to the lack of light.

“I need you to understand limits, yn. Sometimes you just keep pushing and pushing, and you don’t notice when the other person is at their limit”

His voice was low, a mixture of sleep and resentment. 

“And I end up hurting the people I love the most,” you said quietly, you ran your hand up from his chest to his neck. It wasn’t sexual in any way, you just needed to feel him as much as possible, needed him to understand that you meant every word that you said “I’m really sorry. I don’t want to give you excuses, I just want to apologize. I don’t want to hurt you, ever. All I want to do is to love you, show you all the bright and beautiful places in the world. Always. Forever”

Jeonghan held your face and kissed your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally your lips. He tucked your head on the crock of his neck and for a second it was so easy to lose yourself in him.

“Sleep now, love. We can talk more in the morning” 

He hugged you tightly and that was enough to give you hope that maybe there was still some part of your relationship that could be saved. 

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @yeeyoop0206, @tomodachiii, @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @r6njunlv, @mixling-blog

if you were tagged, please consider reblogging so more people can see this fic. comments and like are also very much appreciated

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

[lust4lifemelanie]

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆? pt 1

| Matty Healy x reader

Summary: Friends to lovers, reader is kinda blind, playful flirting, slow burn, lightly based off fallingforyou. Btw this is really short but trust the process 🙏🏻

A/N: We are soo back, i’m actually so sorry for being so unactive i’ve had so much writers block. I hope y’all enjoy this one though.

Your clock read 9:30 p.m., as you were finishing last-minute homework you heard a knock on your window, making you jump slightly. You open your window and scoff when you see your best friend's face smiling like a dork.

“Really, was that really necessary?" You roll your eyes. “Yes, now can I come in? It's cold as fuck out here.” Matty practically whines, which you couldn't help but smirk at.

"Fine, but be quiet.” You open the window wider so he can crawl through. "I'm always quiet.” He scoffs as he climbs through the window.

“Since when? You never know when to shut your gob.” You tease him as you watch him climb through your window.

“Um? Yes, I do. I just prefer not to.” He stands up. “Whatever, why are you here? I thought your band had practice or something?” You look at him, slightly confused, as you sit down on your bed.

“We finished early; Hann’s mum wanted him home, fuckin pussy,” he says as he sits next to you on your bed. "Plus, I wanted to see you, I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever,” he adds on.

“So you crawled through my window at night because you missed me? Aw, Matty, have you gone soft?” You tease and pinch his cheek.

He playfully slaps your hand away and rolls his eyes. "I'm starting to regret coming here.” You smile softly. You’ve known Matty since primary school, but after he met that group of guys and started that band, you two kind of drifted away from each other. 

“Anyway, how was band practice?” As you gently look into his soft brown eyes, a crooked smile forms on his face. “It was good; we're working on a new song at the moment, so it's been a little more difficult than usual.” He scoots a little closer to you. 

“You should come to practice sometime; it's actually quite funny watching George get mad when he messes up.” He adds on, the smile remaining on his face. 

“I mean, I’d love to, but I don't want to be a bother or something.” After the sentence leaves your mouth, Matty instantly shakes his head.

“You wouldn't be a bother; Hann’s girlfriend always comes to the practices." You sigh because you know he isn't going to shut up until he gets what he wants.

“Fine Matthew, I'll go since you're so desperate to get me there.” Your sarcasm makes him roll his eyes again.

“Please, you practically jumped at the chance."  

For the next hour, you and Matty talked. Your favorite thing about hanging out with Matty was that you didn't feel uncomfortable with him. You could talk to him about anything; guys around your age were gross and annoying, but Matty wasn't; he was sweet and actually funny.

As your mid-conversation matty's eyes wander to the clock on your nightstand, his eyes go wide. "Shit, I missed curfew. My mums going to be pissed. I got to go, but I'll see you later, Bye Y/N”

You smile softly. “Bye Matty, I’ll pray that Denise doesn't kill you." He flips you off before climbing out of your window, getting on his bike, and riding away.

 The next week, Matty got his way, you were sitting on the floor of his basement with your back against the wall, watching and listening to his band rehearse.

 Something about Matty's voice singing was oddly comforting for you. He had a way with his words; you weren't the biggest fan of rock or indie, but for him, you’d be the first one at the barricade.

After the rehersal, Matty sat down next to you and asked, “So what’d you think?” He smiles softly, looking at you with his pretty brown eyes.

“I surprising liked it.” You smiled back, he couldn't help but scoff, “Suprisingly? that sounds backhanded."

“Shut up. I didn't have to give you a good rating. Be grateful that I'm nice.” You say in a teasing tone, he raises an eyebrow after hearing your sentence.

“Nice? Bitch, please; you are so far from nice.” You roll your eyes. "I'm spending my Saturday here watching your band play; I think that's pretty nice if you ask me, Matthew."

 “Actually Y/N, I'm saving you from a boring Saturday of doing homework or going out with whatever douche bag you're dating at the moment.” His cocky attitude was so annoying sometimes.

“Is this slag off Y/N hour?” You ask sarcastically. He smirks, "I'm just taking the piss, darling.” He puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side.

There was a little bit of silence. Matty’s friends were upstairs, getting drinks. It was just the two of you. “I missed this, Y/N.” Matty breaks the silence and looks at you.“Hm? Oh yeah, same.” You smiled softly, and he smiled back.

 The boys came back down with water bottles, tossing two to Matty and me. The boys sat on the couch in the basement and were going on about the songs, cracking a few jokes here and there.

You never really hung out with Matty’s band friends; as much as you loved Matty, you’d much rather hang out with your girlfriends than with a group of guys. "Matty how come you’ve been hiding Y/N from us?” George asks and playfully nudges Matty’s shoulder. You smirk and join in. "Yeah, Matty, how come?” Matty scoffs at the both of you.

“I haven't been hiding her from anyone; blame her; she's the one who hates meeting new people.” He says defensively, and you roll your eyes.  "Well, I didn't know that your friends were funnier than you.” You say it jokingly, causing the others to laugh.

 A dramatic fake pout forms on Matty's face. "Well, now I know the taste of betrayal." He puts a hand to his heart like the drama queen he is.

 The day went on in Matty's basement, and you got along well with the group. The sun started to set, and you thought it would be best to start heading home before it was fully nighttime.

 You told everyone goodbye and made your way back upstairs out of Matty's basement. You were almost out the door when you were stopped.

 "Wait, Y/N,” you said, turning around to see George. “Yeah?” You look at him slightly confused.

 "I'm having a party Saturday, and I thought maybe you’d want to go?” He flashes a flirty smile.

 You smile back and say, "Yeah, sure, I’d love to." George's smile widens when you agree.

 “Cool, I'll have Matt give you the details. Oh, and you can bring a friend if you want."

"Thanks; Ill see you until then.”

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Hey, Mickey! [Pt. 2]

University AU TW: Language, Alcohol Consumption, P w/out P, Hook-Up Culture, Y/N's a bit promiscuous but so are her friends lmfao Smut Warnings: Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Sloppy Make Outs, Penetrative Sex, Degradation, Name Calling, Fingering, Handjob, Oral (F!Giving - Blowjob), Lowkey face-fucking, Overstimulation, San's a meanie (translated: soft dom ish), Unprotected Sex (contraceptives are sexy guys), Double Penetration, Anal, Creampie, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Genre: Romance, Smut, Exes-to-FWB-to-Lovers, Minors DNI Pairing: Choi San x Reader ft. Yeosang YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 3.8K

[Other Groups Masterlist] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: I didn't mean to write a sequel to this but... here we are ig lmaooooooo BUT THIS IS IT I PROMISE! Also rq you do not need to read part 1, this can be a stand alone, but if you want to read that filth go ahead. Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"I hate you, (Y/N)!" Your friend cried. "You said he's free!"

"Okay, and? He's not free anymore," you sipped on your iced tea while your friend lamented on the table in front of you.

"Was he... was he at least a good fuck?"

"I guess you'll never know."

"No!" Your friend cries into her arms. She looks at you with sad eyes. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yup," you finished your tea and placed it aside while you continued your paper. "Plus, you don't want to date that asshole," you rolled your eyes and groaned.

"Why not?"

"His idea of a date is a movie and a fuck, he's so unromantic," you complained.

"Why are you dating him then?" She asks, regaining her composure and touching up her eyeliner now.

"I guess I'm just used to it," you eyed her weirdly but continued your own business. "Maybe I kinda missed it."

"Wow, your friends were right, your standards are really on the floor, huh?" She huffs. Apparently so.

"I know," you couldn't stop the grin from rising on your face. "Anyway, we have a date later, so we'll see what happens," you rest your chin against your palm.

"Aw, what's the plan?" She pushes.

"Let's see," San chimes behind you while placing a hand on your shoulder, "dinner at 6, movie at 8, and sex in my car at 10," San lists off on his fingers behind you.

"You're stupid," you rolled your eyes again and looked at your friend, "what did I tell you. Unromantic, right?" You sighed.

"Just the way you like it," he shoots you a wink and steals your coffee.

"What else did I tell you? Absolute asshole," you deadpanned toward your friend. San, making no comment, walked off. "Look, he just came here to fucking embarrass me and take my shit, ugh, why am I talking to him again?" You shook your head and went back to work. "Consider yourself lucky, friend." You stole a glance at her, catching her watching San walk off.

"I wish I had a guy who treated me like shit."

"You're even stupider than he is."

"Let me live my whore era in peace," her head slips down her hand and she giggles. "You have two other friends, right?"

"Why are you so attracted to my friends?!"

"Why are your friends so attractive?!" She fires back.

~

"Really, San? I thought you'd at least be a little more classy than this," you crawled over to the backseat and straddled his lap. The earlier date was a bit of a blur, to be honest, the movie was boring and dinner was okay, but part of you felt that weird semblance of him trying to be more romantic. It didn't work though. In the end, you were still about to fuck in his car, one of the most unromantic of places.

"I mean, yeah, but you're here anyway, aren't you?" His hands rest on either side of your hip. "If you want me to take you home to my place right now then I'll do it," he shrugs. "But can you wait that long?" He teases you.

"Shut up," you leaned down and kissed him. Your lips moved together slowly while San's thumbs started to trace circles around your hips. His hands slipped into your shirt and sent a cold shock up your spine, something that elicited a small groan from you and allowed San to push forward while deepening the kiss. You felt your hips relax against his lap and you could feel his boner against his jeans. You separated for a moment, leaving San to chase after you.

"What?" His voice sounded more disinterested than annoyed.

"Your windows are tinted, right?" You looked out into the nighttime.

"Nope," he pulls you down to his lips once again.

"San," his name was muffled between your lips. "Mm mmm," you shook your head. He pulled away.

"Come on, no one's here, you can see the lot better than I can," he starts to kiss your neck instead. He wasn't really wrong per se, you really should've suspected something when he parked back here, but here you were being surprised again, huh? "What are you so worried about? It's not like anyone we know would be here at this time," he continues. Again, he wasn't wrong.

Plus, part of you thought that car sex was hot.

"Fine, but I do expect you to bring me home still," you said.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he pulled your shirt off and kissed you again, something you welcomed and reciprocated. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra before tossing it to some unknown part of the car, and your hips bucked against his, something that made him smirk against you. "Needy much?" He teased you too often, in your opinion.

"Shut up and just fuck me already, okay?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," San separated from you and you groaned. "Hold on there, baby, we're not just fucking around anymore," he lowers you against the seat and your breath catches in your throat. "Nah, we're "talking," right? I'm fucking to keep you now," he presses small kisses against your chest. "Then again, my competition is Mark, so I'm not too concerned," he grabs the waistbands of your skirt and your panties and pulls them off slowly.

"Don't be mean!" You tug at his hair and he groans around your nipple.

Mark, San's polar opposite. He was sweet, romantic, and just so caring, kinda bad at sex but you would never tell him. You didn't deserve him, now that you thought of it, especially since you're about to be willingly dicked down by your ex, but what's new?

"And? Since when were you into the nice guys? I know you, you like us mean," San's fingers ghost over your clit and your back arches. He pushes himself up and presses wet kisses along your jaw just as he traces his fingers around your folds and, fucking finally, he presses two fingers inside of you.

"Haa..." you let out a shaky moan and felt yourself sinking into the leather seats. You pulled his face to yours and kissed him hard. He let out a low groan as you started to palm at his crotch.

"You like us stupid too," he mutters against you. "You like it when we can't think of anything other than you, you thrive on that shit, it gets you off every time," his voice was a low rumble on your lips.

"No," your response came out as a low moan, "that's not..." you couldn't finish your sentence, not with how he was moving inside of you.

"You're all I ever think about," he presses up against your g-spot and your legs nearly clamped together as you started to grind on his fingers. "I could be doing whatever and all I can think about is how much of a cock-hungry whore you can be, all I think about is how you can barely even talk after I'm done with you. You should see yourself right now, where'd all that pride from earlier go?" He pulled his hand away in a swift movement, licking them clean before pulling his jeans off. The opportunity presented itself and you weren't one to back down, besides, you couldn't let him have all the glory. You were quick to push him back now, taking more of a front and wrapping your hand around his dick. "Oh?" He asks with a confident grin. You dragged your hand up and started to slowly jerk him, taking your time to listen to his own pretty moans.

"I usually prefer to be the one dumb fucked stupid but... you said it yourself, I'm fucking to keep you," you crawled into the space between his legs and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, your tongue drawing languid circles around it while San's head hit the back of the seat.

"Fuck..." he drew the curse out and his hand rested on the top of your head as you took more and more of his cock into your mouth. He wasn't pushing down on you, thankfully, but the force was there, and god did it turn you on. You pulled your head up along his dick now, jerking him all along the way while he started to pull at your hair. The bitter taste of precum dragged along your tongue each time you tried to take more of him. "You can take more of it, I know you can," he starts to push your head down further and you gagged around him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and San cursed again. "Fuck, you look so hot like this," he brushes your hair out of your face right as you take the last of him in. Deep breaths, just relax. Not the first time you blew him, just the first time in such a restricted space. You try to pull off of him again, but his hips move up and he holds you in place.

"Mmph," you moaned around him while he thrust into you. Your legs started to give way under you, sliding further apart while you sank to the bottom of the car and your wetness dripped out of you. One of your hands moved to your pussy and you slipped your index and middle fingers inside to scissor yourself while you gagged on his cock. San moaned on top of you just as he pulled you off of him to give you a chance to climb back on top of him, your pussy hovering above his cock for just a moment before you spread your lips and sank down on him. He pulled you down into an open kiss, with wet moans being stolen with his tongue. His hands settled on your hips, squeezing them gently to urge you to move at your own pace, and a small shift from him was enough for you to start riding him. Your hips rocked back and forth, the car shifting under you with every movement but your wary glances around confirmed that you and he were still alone. Finally, you felt your abdomen tighten and you tugged him away from you. "I'm... haa... I'm almost there," you told him.

"Are you?" His words had a heavy sultry tone to them and you felt his lips trail up your jawline. "Hold it in," he bites down on your neck and you whimpered.

"I don't think... mmph... I don't think I can," your voice mixed with your moans now and his hands tightened on your waist to hold you still.

"You know, I just cleaned this car too," he spoke against your neck. This asshole. "Would be a shame if I had to clean it again," he sighs and lowers you down again, taking full control of you.

"San, please," your hands squeezed his hips and he thrusts into you. "Please, please, please," you begged him. You couldn't hold your orgasm in any longer than you already have.

"Go then," he releases your hips and you grasp onto his shoulders and lean forward, moving up and down his length to reach your orgasm all the while he whispers dirty things. Your pussy slid against his cock, feeling the way he stretched you open with each glide up and down, it was almost too good. The things you would do just to get him to let you sit on his cock forever. "Damn, only I can make you like this, huh?" He grins just as you stilled over him, your orgasm wracking through your body, and him moaning on top of you, staying in place while your pussy tried to pull him in further.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed repeatedly and San flipped you so that your stomach was against the seats and he pistoned into you. "Fuck, oh god, I can't," you shook your head against them now while San thrust into you with enough force that your wetness gushed around his cock. And when you felt his thumb press against your pucker you grabbed onto the seats with a vice grip, then right as you reached your second orgasm he stilled for a moment, letting you ride it out, until he spoke again.

"You ready?"

"Mmhmm," you moaned and he pushed into you.

"Shit..." he let out a breathy moan, while you moaned loudly, not caring if anyone was around to hear you. Your hand moved to your clit, trying to speed up to your next orgasm.

"Ugh, oh god," your hands moved faster and soon, somehow, you were on his lap again, your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on your waist while he fucked you and you bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming while the car rocked back and forth and, then, you made a mistake. You opened your eyes.

And Yeosang's jaw dropped.

Immediately, you zipped your mouth shut and San, sensing the sudden unease, stopped all his movements. You and Yeosang were stuck staring at each other for a bit, and carefully, awkwardly, he held up a bag and pointed at it.

"Haa, fuck," you cursed, rolled your eyes, and pointed at San's head. San turned his head just enough to see him, before he looked at you.

"Down?" He asks. He didn't specify what in particular, but with enough context, you were able to piece it together.

"In here?"

"Sure."

"Ugh," you groaned again. "If he is," you finally conceded. You looked out the back window again and, for whatever reason, Yeosang was still standing there. Of all the times to run into him it happened to be when your ex was balls deep into your pussy, of course. Wordlessly, San turned just enough to see him again and raised his hand up, motioning for Yeosang to come in. Yeosang, seemingly, took a deep breath and sighed. He looked at you, showing you a thumbs up and a look as if to ask if it was really okay, and with another roll of your eyes you nodded, and he shrugged, and he walked over. "God, it's about to get so cramped." You grumbled.

"Whatever, not the first time we fucked in this car," San groaned. You made a move to pull off of him, but he held you still while he leaned over and unlocked the car.

"I have, uh, waba grill," Yeosang slides in. "You look hungry, (Y/N)."

"A little, yeah," you nodded.

"Yo, you gonna join us or are you just here to fap?" San leans over to ask him. "Lock the car for me too."

"Yeah, yeah," Yeosang locks the car. "You cool if I join for sure, right?" He asks you.

"Woo might be mad that he's not here," you looked away for a moment.

"Aw, man, Woo doesn't have to know," San reasons.

"Well, whatever," Yeosang tosses his food onto the driver's seat and climbs in the back. "How far are we?"

"Three orgasms... was about to be four until you decided to look in here," you muttered.

"Whoops," Yeo pulls his shirt off and you look away.

"Yo," San whistles lowly.

"You guys suck," you mumbled and San pulled you off of him.

"I'll take a breather, you two have fun," San says. That's... different.

"Huh? You sure?" Yeosang asks and even you were surprised.

"Sure, last time you two get to fuck at least."

"Last?!" You both exclaimed.

"Yup, next time (Y/N) and I'll be official."

"In your dreams, Choi San," you rolled your eyes and turned Yeosang's face toward yours, capturing his lips with yours in an instant. Yeosang matched your rhythm quickly, holding onto your hips with a gentle grip while you moved on top of him.

"Oh," he mumbles. Yup, you both knew it, he was planning something. "Whatever, (Y/N), come here," he pulls you close to him and you press your lips to his.

Okay, you had to admit it, this wasn't the first time you and Yeosang fucked. The first time was because you both got drunk at a party. The second was because he picked you up from a failed date. And the third was now. And yet every time and with every partner, of course, you ended up comparing them to the jackass sitting behind you. Yeosang was gentler in his movements, he had control, easily, but he let you go through the motions. Even now, while you sank your hips onto his, you could feel the motions of him pushing you down too. You held onto both headrests on either side of you when he started to thrust into you, and you fought the urge to clamp your legs whenever he pushed into you just right. Your hands traced up his abdomen, wrapping around either side of his chest while you rode him, in some ways Yeosang was just perfect and if it hadn't been for San then maybe, maybe, this would've felt a little less cruel. Then, you felt San press his hand onto your back and he pushed you down onto Yeosang, close enough that you two nearly fell into a kiss.

"You know, (Y/N)," San whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to the shell of it too. "Yeo's had the biggest crush on you since we were kids."

"Come on, man, don't tell her about that," Yeosang's face twists in pleasure. He holds onto you tighter, thrusts becoming more pointed.

"The dude used to cum in socks thinking of you," San laughs. "What do you think? Pussy better than fabric?" San chides.

"San!" You tried to turn to glare at him, but his hand kept your head in place.

"And look at you two now, fucking in the backseat of my car," he continues to taunt. "How's it feel, Yeo?"

"Fuck you, San," Yeosang holds onto your hips tighter and you let out a breathy moan.

"Don't even listen to him," you pressed your lips against Yeosang's, and he kissed back, with both of your hips rolling against each other. Then you felt San's cock rub against you. And when you felt it push against your asshole, you broke off of Yeosang and buried your head in his neck, muffling your moan against his skin. "Fuck," you gripped onto Yeosang's arms and he groaned with every movement. Every time San pushed further into you, you ground down on Yeosang, and with every thrust you moved forward and back between them until he had finally settled in. You lightly chewed on Yeosang's skin, trying to get used to the feeling. Yeosang moaned under you, feeling the difference almost instantly.

"Shit," he clenches his jaw, holding back as much as he could.

"Don't be a little bitch," San growls, wrapping one arm around your torso and pulling you up against his chest, he thrusts into you and you grab onto his arm, your nails digging into his skin with every movement and Yeosang biting down on his hand to stop himself from cumming inside of you. "You cum in her and I'll make sure you regret it, Yeo," San says.

"I'm fucking trying, asshole," Yeosang makes a move to pull out of you but San pushes you down on his cock further.

"Oh god," your hands were on either side of Yeosang now, mind going blank from both cocks moving inside of you. Yeosang pressed open-mouth kisses against your skin, leaving it burning in its path. You turned your head so that you could whisper to him, being sure that only he could hear you.

"Fuck me like you got to me first," you said beneath a moan. Yeosang turns his head to look at you.

"Fuck it," Yeosang shakes his head and grips your thighs, pushing into you at a new pace to match San's, and you fell limp against him, fighting against his own strength to close your legs.

"Attaboy!" San was almost having too much fun with this. "Savor it, lover boy, this is the last time you get to try it." He could be so mean sometimes.

"Fuck! Oh, god, don't stop!" You felt your orgasm building up inside you again, your pussy clenched around Yeosang's cock and your hands dug into his hair while San constantly reminded you that he was there.

"Haa, shit," Yeosang cursed under you. From the way he was moving you could tell he was close and, fuck how amazing it would be to feel him. "Where?" Was all he could get out and, before you could even answer, San pulled you off of him and wrapped his arms under your legs to keep them open.

"Not inside, that's for sure," San said between grunts, he thrust into you at a faster pace now, not being held back by the previous resistance, and your head fell against his neck, just barely able to see through bleary eyes the way Yeosang jerked his cock. You felt your pussy clench around nothing, trying to get some kind of pleasure, any, and luckily Yeosang knew you better than you thought. His mouth wrapped over your clit, tongue circling around the sensitive nub while San continued to fuck into you, and when Yeosang pushed his tongue inside of you you knew you were done for. Your next orgasm hit you hard, so hard that you swear you blacked out for a second before getting pulled back to the reality that was San cumming in your ass. Your legs shook under his hold, and your breaths were heavy and hot. Yeosang sat up, wiping the cum from his chin as he did so.

"No more... I can't..." you shook your head and San pulled out of you slowly, watching the trail of cum follow his dick.

"Yeah, yeah," San was quiet, finally. Yeosang, meanwhile, reached over and grabbed his clothes.

"Well, I'm out," he pulls his shirt on.

"You're leaving already?" You asked with your eyes screwed shut.

"Yeah, exam," Yeosang rolls his eyes, wiping his dick off before shoving it back into his boxers. "Later," he steps into the passenger seat before unlocking the door, he looks back at San. "Also, you're an asshole."

"I know," San holds his hand up until Yeosang leaves. "You staying back here or moving up?"

"Ugh..." you turned so that your head laid on his chest, "can we just stay like this for a bit?"

"Sure," San's hand rests on your back now. "Too hard?"

"Like you care."

"Hey! I'm trying here," his hands rose up momentarily before settling on you again. You pressed a small kiss to his chest.

"Were you telling the truth about Yeo?"

"Oh yeah, big time," he nods.

"That's mean."

"Just how you like it."

"Fuck you."

"So soon?"

"I... ugh..." you closed your eyes again.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

[chelseeebe]

undo.

this is sooo loosely (when i say loosely i mean two lines) based on undo - the 1975 but i loved it and wanted a happy ending for once lol

we’re not doing it again, so leave it.

i could hear you giving her head.. keep dreaming.

summary: a one night stand with your friend could never go to plan, could it?

friends to lovers i suppose, just takes a little bit of jealousy to get there

there was not a chance in hell that you were going to sleep with steve again.

no matter how much he persisted, or tried to charm you into going on a date with him. no way.

it wasn’t even supposed to happen.

a simple movie night in which robin was supposed to join you, had turned into something more.

your friendship group had seemingly already been notified of your encounter and had some choice words for you when you hung out again.

robin, steve’s best friend, was particularly concerned about how the dynamic would now affect the group.

‘i’m just saying, i really like you and i don’t wanna have to take sides in this.. that’s all,’ she holds her hands up.

‘robin, there is no taking sides, there is nothing going on.. it was one time! okay?’ you assure her.

you notice nancy flash a knowing glance at her boyfriend jonathan, but she’s quick to turn back to you and nod, not totally reassured by any of your words.

‘can we just leave it now? it was stupid and a mistake and..’ you’re interrupted by steve waltzing up to your table in the library, that shit-eating-grin on his face.

‘what’s a mistake?’ he asks, taking the empty seat next to yours and immediately shuffling closer.

‘you, apparently,’ robin adds, slumping back in her chair.

‘oh wow, well i am deeply offended,’ steve mocks, turning to you and clasping his heart in a sarcastic gesture.

you roll your eyes, shaking your head as you begin to pack away your books.

steve frowns, grabbing onto your book, ‘you don’t have to leave just because i’m here, yanno?’

‘i’m not,’ you lie, attempting to pull the book out of his grip.

‘then where are you going?’ his fingers still tightly holding on, his eyes staring intently at you.

‘are you my dad? do you need to know?’ you quip back, playing a pathetic game of tug-of-war with your copy of moby dick with steve.

steve cocks his head and grins, ‘i mean.. if you want me to be.’

you yank the book free and tut at his ridiculous comments.

robin stands from the table, ‘i can’t do this.. i’ll catch you losers later,’ shaking her head as she walks out of the library.

nancy grabs onto jonathan’s hand, tugging him up, ‘we’ve gotta go.. look, please sort out whatever is going on between you guys, before this weekend please,’ she pleads.

the group of you had all planned a trip to nancy’s parents holiday home, in celebration of finishing exams. of course, this was all decided before you and steve had had sex and now none of you were prepared for the tension that would now surround the pair of you.

jonathan gives you a small, pitying, smile before being dragged away by nancy. he and nancy has already been a couple before the group had become a thing, so hadn’t experienced the awful shift in dynamic.

‘nice one, steve.. real nice,’ you frown at him, standing from your own seat and swinging your bag over your shoulder.

‘how was any of that my fault?’ brows furrowed in confusion.

you huff and storm away, but you can hear his chair screech and his footsteps following.

‘can you just speak to me.. for five minutes?’ he pants, grabbing onto your arm and stopping you from walking away.

you spin to face him, pulling your arm back, ‘i don’t want to speak about it anymore, it’s done.. okay?’

‘i just.. i don’t understand, so you fuck me and then.. what? that’s it?’ he leers down, towering over you.

‘that’s exactly it,’ you stare back, but his eyes are intimidating and his fingers are still lingering on your skin and you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt on yours.

pulling your gaze away from him and searching the wall behind him for something more interesting.

‘you won’t let me take you out, just once? that’s all i’m asking for here,’ his thumb rubs against your wrist and you can feel his eyes on you.

‘no steve.. leave it,’ shaking your head as you pull away completely and walk off down the hallway.

he was not going to pull you in with his cocky smile and soft brown eyes, you were better than that.

-

you get a ride with jonathan up to the cabin, nancy in the front and robin sat next to you in the back.

steve had called nancy earlier that morning to let her know he’d be late and would find his own way up.

you’re relieved as you now no longer had to be squished between him and robin for hours, especially knowing that he would be completely relentless in his teasing.

the cabin in question is very quaint, large enough to accommodate all of you although someone was to be confined to the sofa bed in the living room.

it’s a collective decision that steve has to take it as a forfeit for being late.

you’re all sat around in the back garden, the low afternoon sun blaring down on you as jonathan’s boombox blares some pretentious indie rock.

robin hands you a beer and sits back in the chair next to you, none of them had mentioned you and steve and you were incredibly grateful.

you were sure they had just assumed you two had figured it all out, the situation was put to bed.

‘oh look who’s finally arrived!’ robin announces as steve walks through the open back door.

you look up to see him walking towards you with a random girl in tow, hanging onto his arm.

‘hey, sorry i’m late.. i hope you don’t mind, this is tanya..’ he motions towards the girl, who waves at you all, ‘didn’t wanna drive up here all on my own so.. tanya was happy to volunteer to join me.’

it had been a week? two weeks? since you and steve had had sex, and now he was already dating someone else?

you squint at him, choosing to keep your mouth shut in this situation.

steve’s eyes are firmly on you, watching for a reaction, any sort of inkling that you gave a shit, and you were not going to give him that satisfaction.

‘well.. hello tanya,’ nancy politely responds, slightly taken aback by the stranger who was standing in her backyard.

‘you two are on the couch.. punishment for being late,’ robin adds, sipping on the bottle of beer in her hand.

‘that’ll be fine, won’t it?’ he breaks his gaze away from you to look at the girl, who enthusiastically nods back, a sickly smile plastered on her face.

you can feel nancy glance over to you, probably worried that you might say something, anything, to cause an argument.

but you don’t. you slide your sunglasses on and relax back into your chair.

besides, you’d already told steve that you weren’t interested… so why would you care about the pretty girl stood next to him?

you don’t. you tell yourself, although you aren’t sure you fully believe it.

-

you wake up at some point in the night to a ghastly sound.

a horrible whaling, screechy sound.

it takes you a few moments to adjust, trying to decide whether to grab the baseball bat you had found in the closet and venture out to the source of the sound.

and then you can hear a high-pitched, drawn out, ‘steve,’ come from down the hall and it all makes sense.

you groan, rolling over to try and fall back to sleep but the moaning gets louder and so insanely over-the-top that you have to place the pillow over your head to muffle the sounds.

-

steve is completely unashamed when robin complains about their little performance, that smug grin on his lips.

‘sorry.. sorry, should’ve given me a room,’ he shrugs before taking a seat next to tanya, placing an arm around her shoulder.

you avoid eye contact, in fact, you don’t speak a word to him all day.

actively avoiding any conversation he was a part of and choosing any place in the house that he was not.

it’s driving him mad. how you won’t even look at him, hell you won’t even acknowledge that he exists.

he glowers at you over dinner, obnoxiously replying to all of your questions, all to no avail.

robin thinks it’s fucking hilarious and can’t help laughing to herself every time you wilfully ignore his answers and move on to the next question.

nancy is desperately trying to hold it all together, this was supposed to be a nice break away for all of you and steve had brought this stranger along and then proceeded to very loudly have sex with her on her parents couch. it was all a bit too much.

jonathan is quite honestly just enjoying himself, watching as his friends fall into chaos around him, quietly observing the insanity.

you all decide to head to bed early, hoping that a fresh start tomorrow would sort everything out.

robin threatens steve before heading to her room, telling him that she’ll actually castrate him herself if she hears anything tonight and you giggle when you get back to your own room.

you’re dozing off until there’s a soft knock at your door and you’re jolted back awake.

you sigh, standing up and padding over to answer the door only to find steve standing on the other side of the wood.

he holds his finger up to his mouth and creeps into the room, gently closing the door behind him.

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you angrily whisper, frowning at him.

‘why won’t you just speak to me? fuck- you can’t even look at me,’ he hushes, moving towards you.

you back up slightly, moving when he does, ‘i don’t have anything to say to you,’ you hiss.

your heart is pounding, a shirtless steve was the last thing you had expected on the other side of the door.

‘that’s bullshit,’ he continues to edge closer, ‘you’re jealous,’ he smirks.

‘keep dreaming,’ you scoff, backing up into the wooden wall of the building.

‘you are,’ now only inches away, tilting his head to look down at you, ‘look me in the eye and tell me you’re not.’

you swallow, crumbling under the weight of his stare, his eyes drinking in every part of your face.

‘i’m not,’ you lie, chest heaving up and down.

‘liar,’ he says before closing the space between your bodies, pushing your body back against the wall as his hands find themselves on your waist, his lips crashing into yours.

your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, fingers tangling into his messy hair, desperately grasping onto anything you could hold.

the kiss is sloppy, heated as his tongue finds it’s way into your mouth and his fingers toy with the buttons on your pajama shirt.

he pulls back, gasping for breath as he holds onto your waist, waking you backwards towards the bed and collapsing on top of you.

the bed makes an incriminating creaking noise and you widen your eyes up at him, but he just smirks in response, pressing another kiss to your aching lips.

his hands begin to undo the buttons on your shirt, fumbling around and groaning into your mouth when he can’t get the hang of it one handed.

‘shut up,’ you mumble, moving your hand between you to help him with the task, he begins to kiss onto your jaw and down onto your neck.

you successfully unbutton the shirt and shimmy it off of your body beneath him, throwing your head back to allow wider access to your neck.

‘holy shit,’ he breathes into your neck, the hand that was previously struggling, running down your body to tug down the matching shorts you had on.

his lips are still attacking your skin, sucking and nibbling, which would probably leave some kind of mark but you could not have cared less in this moment.

he yanks down his own boxers and moves from your neck to press his forehead against yours, guiding himself into your slick entrance with a low groan.

your mouth falls open, trying with every fibre of your being to not make any noise as he begins to slowly move inside of you.

his eyes watch your face as he licks his lips, keeping a slow rhythm as to not rock the bed though this is all the more frustrating, your fingers tugging on his hair to urge him to move faster.

he moves steady and deep and you have to stifle a moan when he hits your sweet spot, whimpering underneath him as hips slam into yours.

the sound of skin on skin is undeniable, filling the room and you just pray that robin is sound asleep.

his lips lazily connect with yours in an attempt to not grunt as you rock your hips upwards into him, nearing your orgasm.

he pulls back, choosing to move faster as he finds his own orgasm approaching, letting out a throaty moan before your hand leaves his hair and clamps over his mouth.

though you can’t help the sounds of pleasure that escape your mouth when you reach your peak, choosing to burrow your head into his forearm and trembling around him.

‘fuck,’ he groans against your hand, coming inside of you before collapsing into a sweaty mess on the bed next to you.

you swallow, trying to find your breath, truly still coming down from your high.

steve breathes out, turning his head to look at you, disgustingly smug about it all.

‘don’t,’ you whisper, ‘don’t say anything.’

he shakes his head, ‘i wasn’t going to,’ his arm reaches over to pull you into his chest and you don’t fight it instead placing your head onto his still-heaving chest.

he moves the blanket to cover you both and you fall asleep in that exact position, hoping that the walls weren’t as thin as they seemed.

-

plates clatter in the kitchen and your eyes open, suddenly hyper-aware that you were still holding onto a very-much asleep steve, who most definitely should not be here in your bed.

you sit up and shake him, ‘steve,’ you hiss, ‘you need to get up!’

he groans, squinting at the sudden light, ‘w-what? what’s wrong?’ he says groggily, not sure why you had chosen to so aggressively wake him up.

‘you can’t be in here!’ you whisper loudly, eyes widened.

‘ohh.. oh shit,’ he sits up, realising where exactly he was and who exactly was outside probably wondering where the hell he was.

you look over at the window, ‘climb out the window.. say you went for a walk or some shit.’

‘right.. right yeah,’ he stands up, still disoriented from the sleep and grabs his boxers, sliding them on.

you stand and walk over to help him out of the window, trying to quietly slide it open.

he pauses for a second and grips onto your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at him, ‘see ya’ tonight?’

‘you’re so.. fuck- get out,’ you respond and he bites down onto his bottom lip before clambering out of the window, you close the window and shoo him away.

picking up a hoodie and your discarded shorts and throwing them on, attempting to hide whatever mess he had left on your neck.

you exhale before stepping out of your room, hearing your friends voices echo through the cabin.

‘well hello sleepy head,’ robin says, sitting up straight in her chair.

you smile at her taking a seat at the table, averting your eyes from tanya who was sat in confusion, waiting for the boy that had dragged her here to reappear.

almost on cue, steve stumbles through the front door and into the kitchen, your eyes flit up to him, only to already be met by his own eyes staring back.

you quickly look back to the table as nancy turns around, face screwed up in confusion, ‘where have you been?’

‘oh.. i woke up early and went for a.. walk,’ steve answers, using your excuse.

‘in your boxers?’ robin adds, nodding at his lack of clothing.

‘yes actually, quite refreshing,’ he answers, more confidently as he sits down next to tanya, choosing not to lean into her advances and instead picking up a slice of toast.

‘you’re lucky i don’t have any tools to castrate you here.. you’ve gotta learn how to be fucking quiet dingus.. disgusting,’ robin laughs, throwing a rogue piece of bread at his head.

tanya looks over at steve with a furrowed brow, ‘but we.. we didn’t?’ the cogs slowly turning in her brain.

you stare intently at the table, trying to keep a straight face, still chewing on the bite of toast.

‘must’ve been.. the wind or something,’ steve pats tanya on the knee.

she nods, still not really grasping the situation.

jonathan has already clocked on to what’s happened, eyes flicking between you and steve while nancy slowly comes to the same realisation.

‘what?’ robin looks around at everyone’s expressions when it dawns on her and her face drops, ‘oh my fucking god.’

you close your eyes, slowly chewing on the bread and bracing for whatever robin was going to say next.

‘you have to be fucking kidding me,’ she bursts out laughing, slapping her hand on the table.

‘robin,’ steve warns, glaring at her.

tanya still hasn’t caught on and is sat looking puzzled.

‘no no, steve that is fucking hilarious,’ she continues to laugh, prodding you on the knee, causing you to look up at her.

‘am i missing something? i don’t.. i don’t get it,’ tanya states, shaking her head.

‘why don’t we uh.. have a chat?’ steve stands, placing his hand tenderly on her shoulder.

she follows him out into the living room, utterly puzzled.

nancy stares at you, a small pout on her face. robin is still cracking the fuck up and jonathan just looks bewildered.

‘look.. he came into my room and then.. he just.. it was stupid and.. and,’ you stumble through your words, trying to plead with your group of friends around the table.

‘chill,’ jonathan assures, he could tell that you were flustered and you flash him a small, appreciative smile.

‘so it wasn’t just a one time thing then?’ robin asks, a smile still plastered on her face.

‘well, no but it won’t happen again..’ you can’t even be totally sure that that statement was true.

‘look.. we don’t care, okay? i was worried that i’d have to choose between you and steve, but i don’t think there’s much chance of that happening,’ robin nods at you, her previous scepticism had worn off.

‘clearly there’s something going on there.. you should do what makes you happy,’ nancy shrugs.

you look up at her, appreciating her kind words and their sudden acceptance of whatever the hell was happening between you and steve.

‘but, i do think you should apologise to that girl.. even if she is an obvious tactic to make you jealous,’ nancy puts her hand on the table, giving you that stern, motherly look that she had perfected.

you nod in agreement, trying to stifle your smile.

steve walks back into the kitchen, no longer practically naked, ‘i’m gonna take tanya to the train station.. she said to thank you for having her though.’

you glance up at him but immediately looking away when his dark brown eyes meet yours.

nancy sighs, ‘makes sense..’ her eyes flit to you, ‘go.’

you roll your eyes and stand, walking into the living room where tanya is stuffing her belongings into her bag.

‘hey.. i just.. wanted to say sorry y’know? for.. uh- yeah,’ you speak up, although very awkwardly.

she looks at you, a blank stare on her face, ‘yeah, whatever.’

you purse your lips together, not really expecting much more from the girl and spin to walk back into the kitchen, bumping into steve who was stood watching your interaction.

his hand lands on your arm, ‘we’ll talk.. when i’m back.’

you nod slightly, noting the nearly missable smile on his lips, reciprocating with a tiny grin before moving around him and disappearing back into the kitchen.

‘well, i don’t think we’ll be seeing tanya again,’ you raise your brows, sitting back in your chair.

‘oh nooo,’ robin wails sarcastically.

nancy throws her that trademark glare again but she can’t help the smile creeping onto her face.

you dig into your breakfast properly, only now anxiously awaiting steve’s return. not sure what to even say to him, or what you were even thinking.

you hadn’t really thought about the possibility of you and steve actually becoming more than friends, after you had had sex you’d immediately written off any potential relationship blossoming for the sake of your friends.

but now you’d basically been given the approval from them all, could you do it? give it a real shot?

-

you’re in the garden sunbathing when steve comes back.

you don’t even notice until his shadow cascades over you and the heat of the sun is obstructed by his body.

you look up, removing your sunglasses and squinting at him.

‘wanna go for a walk?’ he asks, holding out his hand to you.

you sit up properly and nod, taking his hand and standing from the towel laid out on the grass.

he holds onto your hand as he guides you through the house and out of the front door.

‘i think we can get to the lake down here,’ he points to a thin path.

‘did you see that on your walk this morning?’ you joke.

‘ha ha,’ he rolls his eyes, ‘nancy told me about it,’ his fingers intertwined with yours.

‘did uh, did tanya say anything?’ you ask timidly, not really caring about the answer.

‘yeah.. she had a few interesting names for me on the way there,’ he chuckles, leading you down the cobbled path.

‘well.. i hope you apologised for dragging her out here.’

‘i did, i even paid for her train ticket,’ he states as you walk through the clearing in the trees and across the lake.

he slows, finding a shaded spot under a tree and turning to face you fully.

‘so,’ he holds onto your fingers, gazing down at you.

‘so..’

‘i think you already know what i think about you.. and i am totally down to keep having sex with you but i can’t promise that it would ever be just sex.. not for me anyway,’ his fingers squeeze onto yours.

you nod, looking back at him, ‘i don’t.. i don’t want that.’

‘okay..’ his smile falters and his clasp on your fingers loosen.

‘no, i mean.. i don’t want just sex,’ you reply, hoping that he’d understand.

‘oh? so you’ve changed your mind.. like i can take you out?’ the smile reappears on his face.

‘yeah,’ you agree, ‘that’d be nice.’

he grins from ear to ear, taking your other hand into his and squeezing, ‘like really? a proper date?’

‘yes,’ you giggle, ‘don’t ask again because i might change my mind,’ you interlock your fingers with his, pulling his body into yours.

you weren’t sure how this was going to end but you were happy enough to at least give it a shot.