#he hated it but in his defense! it seemed a lot at the time when thedas wasn't that much into written communication

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

so like. fnaf movie. after night five, all outside observers know is "this 30yo guy with severe anger issues + his 10yo mentally ill sister just walked out of his collapsing workplace with an unconscious, stabbed police officer, saying that someone inside the building tried to kill them but we can't get into the building to check. we went to their house and the aunt who was fighting for custody of the child is dead on the floor. the guy's career counselor is missing, as is his babysitter and her family and apparently they're all dead in the building we can't get into." and like. that all looks suspicious as FUCK however we know that in the few-weeks timeskip both mike and abby seem happy and fine so it's not like mike was arrested or anything. he seems to be more adjusted and is happily talking with her teacher so i doubt he's under stress of interrogation or anything

there's a lot of implications there that mike mighta pulled something but it's all circumstantial evidence at best. i'm sure in jane's autopsy and crime scene evidence they couldn't find any evidence of mike being the one to attack her, esp since it was probably just golden freddy bopping her in the head so they dont even have the weapon, and if she was strangled they'd be able to tell it wasn't by bare hands and they couldnt get prints or anyth. especially if golden freddy is a FULL ghost and thus left no trail.

mike would be smart enough to only tell the cops what they need to know without mentioning ghosts to sound crazy. abby might be more honest with the cops just bc of #autism but they'd be more likely to consider her talking about ghosts and imaginary friends as a child's way of coping, and they cant get anything out of her that would incriminate mike. ADD TO THAT that mike has wounds that are clearly defensive and is SUPER banged up and his wounds would likely match his story way better than evidence of him attacking anyone, AND that there's likely footage and witnesses of him being in the pharmacy and then driving to work (and thus not in the area to attack jane), AND if/when nessie wakes up she'll probably vouch for mike as well, and the cops dont have anything on him

though i DO wonder if they would have records of vanessa patching him up in the police outpost. if they do, that would also back up mike's story as it's 1) far away from the aunt jane crime scene, 2) confirms that he and vanessa were working together, so either she's complicit in Crime™ or his story is accurate and she was helping him save his sister. him going to defend her instead of calling backup is also consistent with his personality of getting triggered and jumping into action around child abduction, esp w/ his sibling in danger

considering what abby would probably say, AND the history of freddy's, it's likely that they would come to the conclusion of is "someone [likely the og kidnapper from the 80s] found out that the guy working at freddy's had a sister, kidnapped abby from her house while her aunt was babysitting and tried to recreate the crimes, his story of him and vanessa defending her and escaping vaguely checks out." whether or not mike would incriminate vanessa by mentioning her dad was the killer is up in the air, and there's obviously some huge holes that are left from nobody believing that there are ghosts in the building but that would probably be the eventual conclusion

but throwing that all away, it would be really, REALLY funny if the rest of the town, being really fuckin nosy and getting into the juiciest gossip they've had in decades, took one look at michael "big teddy bear falling asleep on himself" schmidt and said "there's no way. there's no way this guy murdered his aunt, stabbed an officer and then destroyed his own workplace, especially when he really needed that job and was on sleeping medication," and then turned around to look at abby "neurodivergent in the early 2000s (ableist af time period)" "vocally hates her aunt" "doesn't talk to anyone and claims that she can see ghosts" "vaguely possessive of her brother" "claims that she found the guy who hurt her friends and got him jumped by a cupcake(?)" schmidt and said "oh my god. it was her."

and nobody's gonna directly say anything but they've got cautious eyes on the situation and someone quietly slips mike a copy of the bad seed to see if he has a realization but instead he's just like "hey this book kinda reminds of that golden freddy kid lmao. wonder how he's doin" and then we smashcut to golden freddy kid poking springtrap with a stick

[midnightarcheress]

there's a lot of debate about being team civilian x team soldier for ghost's partner but honestly i love both ideas so much. just think of

simon riley with a civilian partner,

who pushed you away in the beginning because you were 'too pure' to be near a hell-sent monster like him.

who got himself lost in your sweet attempts to slip into the cracks of his heart and eventually surrendered on the battle against his own will.

who keeps a picture of your pretty face well hidden in his tac vest, as a reminder of the new purpose of his military service.

who tries to text you at least once a day when he's away, just to assure you about his well-being and to let you know how much he misses you.

who worries too much about your safety whenever he's deployed, so takes his time to teach you everything about self-defense techniques, ways to handle a knife, and how to properly shoot, as much as he hates the thought of you being even near a gun.

who's so scared of you getting hurt and nearly had a heart attack when he saw blood coming out of your finger after a small distraction whilst cutting the veggies for dinner.

who loves the way you view him as a hero, despite knowing how much of a cold-blooded killer he can be - he never told you anything about his missions, but he never needed to, you know.

who never allow you to see him wearing the mask or the balaclava because ghost is for battlefield, in your house he's purely simon.

and

simon riley with a soldier partner,

who was intrigued about your lack of fear when you first met, because everyone else seemed to shit their pants after a simple glare.

who forbid himself of getting close because the military is about following orders and getting the job done, not fraternization.

who nearly passed out after an instant drop in his blood pressure due to a pouring bullet wound - not because your surprisingly soft hands touched his arm.

who thinks you look the prettiest when you're in the field - sweating, panting, grimy with dirt and blood, barking in his comms to get to safety.

who's terrified of losing you during missions but is also completely mesmerized by your dexterity as you stab the throat of the soldier that seconds before had you pinned to the ground.

who communicates with you using his eyes at all times, since you can't see his expressions under the mask, creating a secret language you're the only one fluent in.

who hesitated on showing you his face at first because underneath it all, simon is a soft man, entirely different of the ghost persona you see during work hours.

[wilwheaton]

there are a lot of broken people out there

A sampling of the sort of things people have been saying to me the last 48 hours.

To be clear, they are MASSIVELY outnumbered by people are are good, kind, and decent. To be clear, these people show up in little groups, around ten or so at a time, as if they were sent by someone to be hateful and cruel.

I weep when I see this sort of thing. These people are so cruel and vicious. Someone told me he wished my dad had hit me more.

I mean, just think about that. I was a little boy, a child, just existing, and a grown man -- my father -- for no reason at all would grab me by the shoulders and scream in my face until I cowered and cried and begged to be left alone.

That was my reality. That's the terror I lived in, every day. And my mother's solution to my father's abuse was to just try harder to make him love me.

Okay? That's who these people are talking about when they mock my trauma, or the pain and terror I experienced; the sadness, loss, and grief I live with.

If I could change anything, I would reword what I said so people who have a vested interest in protecting a powerful celebrity couldn't tone police me and ignore the substance of what I reacted to. I would have taken the terrified child inside of me and soothed him before the adult I am spoke up in his defense they way nobody ever did for me when I was him.

Not gonna lie, it's disappointing that I've become the subject of mockery and the real issue of how violent and out of bounds Larry David's behavior and how insincere his "apology" was seems to be ignored while a lot of angry, hurting, cruel, emotionally stunted people mock and attack me.

I don't regret what I said, and I'd say it all again.

Even though this is the sort of thing people are saying to me:

See that? I made my father bully and abuse me, because something something the bible.

And all the rest.

What a messed up world we are in right now. Please, please choose to be kind.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader x

Top of the Food Chain

I've always wanted to continue my naga!mha fic but considering i dont write for deku+co anymore, i decided to move my au a couple fandoms over:D 1.8k wc

Part two , Part three

(Warnings: animal deaths, blood, obsession, dark content, slight gun threat but not rlly, polyamory, gender ambigious!reader) 

Despite being here for nearly a week, you still don't think Satoru understood how delicate you are. 

He's overbearing, in that sense. Constantly poking and prodding and squeezing until your lungs give and you're forced to squeak. You can't blame him for not understanding. He's an animal, after all. Inhuman. Despite his skin and hair, the scales coating his tail give away just how different he is. He was probably born fighting, kicking, and screeching his way through the foliage, hunting, chewing, and biting. 

He's not like you when all you knew when you were younger was coddling and softness. You can see it in his scars, and bruises, and marks. 

Luckily, for you, Suguru had an inkling that you weren't made for sharp claws. 

It's not a fight, you can tell when they're fighting, it's more like a warning? A minor disagreement. Suguru hisses at the other naga, scrunching up his face, showing his teeth. Satoru is quick to respond, but a little more playful. Fortunately for you, the black-haired male seems to win the argument. Satoru's coils loosen around you. Air stops fighting its way to get into your lungs. 

You finally go lax in his hold. Satoru seems to enjoy that, dipping his head to bury his face into the base of his neck. The first few times he did that, you were afraid he was trying to bite off your jugular. Now, you think it's just another way he can soak up your body heat. 

Maybe you've been here for longer than a week. At this point, you couldn't really tell. Hope that you'd be found was starting to slowly fizzle away. The explosion had been massive. The ship had sunk in a matter of minutes. With a disaster that huge, you doubt anyone would still be looking for survivors. Especially on an uncharted island, where myth had turned into reality. 

 Satoru had been the one you'd woken up to. Washed ashore, barely conscious. You were half-certain he was planning on eating you with the way he held your leg, watching your muscles bend and turn. In his defense, he must have thought you were dead. Your shrill scream quickly convinced him otherwise. 

It was barely a fight. More or less, a pathetic kidnapping as he grabbed your body, slinging it over his shoulder. You've never remembered screaming and crying so loudly before, convinced you were about to be eaten. Suguru probably heard you before he saw you. 

Satoru's mate was a little less impressed with you. Back then, they didn't bother learning your tongue, speaking in hisses and snarls, unaware of your misery. Suguru's frown was glued on his face, but the naga never let you run away, always keeping a hand or a tail on you at all times. It was a rough first day; you didn't know they weren't interested in eating you until they tried to feed you. 

Things were much different back then Nowadays, they are a lot more considerate of yourself and your soft body. You think you've come to an understanding with these strange creatures. 

Suguru was the nicest out of the two. In that, you mean the least rough. Compared to his counterpart, he's a bit smaller, but that's not saying there's any real difference. If it comes down to it, you are more than certain he'd be able to kill you off as quickly as his mate. You thought he hated you, at first. Now, you think he has a hard time showing blatant affection. His touches typically come in the dead of night, when you're barely conscious. A clawed finger gently raking over your soft skin. Large hands sculpting your face. 

Satoru's eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. Glittering like blue sapphires. You had a feeling they weren't just for show. Time and time again he's proven that he can see better than Suguru could. He smiles a lot more, but you're starting to wonder if that expression translates across species. He can speak your tongue slightly better than Suguru could. It most likely has to do with his insistence on staying with you. The more time you spend with him, the more you have to say 'No' 'Don't touch there' 'Stop'. 

In the rare times you manage to escape their hold, you like watching them interact with each other. They often sunbathe for hours, lazing around hot rocks to soak in the heat. They like touching each other. Sometimes it's aggressive, like when Satoru chomps on Suguru's neck and you're suddenly much more aware of how careful he is with you. Other times it's: soft, unintentional, meaningless. Languid cuddling when you are finally able to braid Suguru's hair. 

At this point, you've surmised they won't eat you. At least, not for the moment. You don't exactly know what they think of you. Do they have the concept of pets in their worldview? Maybe that's the closest thing you can place yourself as, at least in their eyes. They must think you're helpless. To them, you have no claws, no fangs, no venom. They probably don't know you come from a species that's hunted others to extinction and currently burning down the planet. You must be the first time they've ever seen your kind, stripped away from your weapons, when you're the least dangerous. 

"You should be more scared of me, you know," you once whispered to Suguru in the dead of night.

He was dozing off, blearily keeping his eyes open to stare at your moving lips. There was a grunt behind you, and Satoru tightened his arms across your waist. Greedy for affection, even in his sleep.

"Humans are terrifying," you said, reaching out to touch, "top of the food chain."

Suguru had smiled at that. You found yourself smiling back.

"You're lucky I didn't have a gun on me. You probably don't even know what that is." It's dark humor to press two fingers into his forehead. Your way of coping maybe.

Or perhaps your actions prove that humans will always desire to be violent, no matter how perilous their fight may be.

"Bang." He leans into your touch, unafraid. Oblivious to the threat that you are.

You're guessing Satoru only let you go because of the food Suguru brought.

You're able to feel the ground again as he glides over to Suguru having just come back from a successful hunt. The carcass of the largest deer you've ever seen is slung across his back. The smell of blood already makes you nauseous. 

You think Suguru had been the most panicked when you refused to eat, clicking and cooing while he tried to force-feed you the bloody leg of a bear. Back then, your communication was even worse than it was now. You were smeared in crimson by the time he relented. Practically dripping in it. 

Now, Suguru knows you have different tastes than them. You're not a big fan of raw. The fish and the handful of berries are more than enough to sate you as you gather the items he's given in your hands. 

"Thank you," you say. You reach out, touching his face with warm fingers. He purrs into your touch. You smile. It's the least gratitude you can give him. After all, he's not asking for much. If they hadn't found you, you would have been dead long ago, or at least, significantly less weaker. It's the least you can do. 

For a moment, you delude yourself into thinking they were your pets. It'd certainly be easy too. They have little to no regard for personal boundaries, much like dogs. They're more animalistic than they are human. 

It's funny to think of these monsters as lovable pets.

"Thank you," Suguru repeats. You giggle. It's not like they actually understand you. It's simple mimicry. Like talking to a parrot. 

"Thank you!" Satoru chirps, never one to be left out. He pushes his mate out of the way, eager for your pets as well. Suguru hisses, but doesn't argue. You've learned they like to be scratched right there on the bottoms of their chins. 

Suguru's less obvious, but Satoru has no desire to pretend. He melts into you, practically slumping his weight into your weak hold. It's a little adorable actually. You give a little laugh. He seems even more pleased at that. 

They're fun to be around, but this can't last. You belong with other humans, far far away from this island. So far, you hadn't seen any boats in the horizon, but you hope one would come by soon. A plane would be even better. Close enough to give you hope. Maybe if you built a big enough fire, it'd reach someone eye. 

Hopefully, in just a few weeks, these creatures will be a very cherished memory. 

You frown when Satoru reaches over to grasp at your food, the meat specifically. You glare, moving away from his hold. He titters in clear disappointment. You hate seeing him sad but you already have so few food sources. It's best to conserve whatever you get. 

"No," you pointedly tell him, "It's mine. Mine." 

His frown deepens, and he opens his jaws to let his fangs pop out. 

"Mine," you repeat. 

He leans back, huffing. You laugh because you know his expression is more out of frustration than any actual anger. Again, animals. You pet his head in apology, before turning away. You'd have to start a tiny fire to start cooking. Raw fish is edible, but it's hardly desirable. 

A hand grabs yours, clawed, the grip is tight around your frail skin. When you look back, Satoru is staring at you. Eyes wide. Eager. 

"Mine," he says, but it's more like he's testing the word. Tasting it on his lips. 

You scoff, unamused. "That's my arm. Not yours." 

Satoru smiles. Sharp teeth. You suddenly remember he's a carnivore. 

He's slow when he draws you in, practically dragging you into his arms. You're used to his spontaneous hugs, tight and suffocating. You can't fight him off, so you typically wait until Suguru has enough of his behavior and drags him off you. 

"Mine," Satoru repeats. Alarm bells ring in your head but it's easy to brush them off. It's mimicry. They can't understand. It's like talking to a parrot. 

You feel the weight of the other naga at your back. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you against Satoru's chest. You stiffen when Suguru's fangs lightly graze up your neck. Never quite punctures, but is terrifyingly close.

"Mine," Suguru says into your skin. 

You laugh again, but it comes out less hesitant. More airy. Amid their hold, a sudden thought comes to you.

If you weren't at the top of the food chain anymore, then who was?

[jyoongim]

Based on ep 5 

ALASTOR

ALASTOR

BARKK BARK AOOOGAAA

Love a caring, defensive, sadistic, cannibilistic daddy demon

Title: Acts of service

Themes: slight submissive y/n, protective, blood, demon form, fluff, relationship dynamic, implied married couple, human life mentioned

Alastor can take a lot of shit…but even he has a breaking point….

(hehehehehehe)

Charlie’s hotel was not making the progress she wanted and so one day she shocked everyone with four words;

“My dad is coming”

The hotel was in a state of frenzy.

Everyone seemed excited to meet the King of Hell.

For once everyone was on one page and getting the place in tip top shape.

You had finally calmed Charlie down from her nth breakdown and had started primping yourself for the big man’s visit.

“Honestly its about time Luci showed his bright ass around here” you said as you patted some blush on.

Alastor was standing in the corner of your bedroom; oozing darkness menacingly.

He had been rather quiet and for once not making a fuss.

You almost smirked, whether or not he admits it

He adored Charlie 

And HATED being bested in anything.

“Youre glowering dear” you say as you finish applying your flawless makeup.

“I just dont see what all the hoopla is about. So what if the Morningstar is coming…its just charlie’s dad” Alastor grumbled in a rant.

You giggled “Yea but this is important to Charlie so no funny business mister”

His big smile tightened and his eyes narrowed “no promises”

You and Charlie greeted Lucifer

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

He damned near choked Charlie in a bear hug before turning to you

“Long time no see Sis” you hummed and gave him a big squeeze, but not before hissing lowly in his ear “do not fuck this up Luci”

He swallowed and you grinned before walking to stand by Alastor.

You nudged him towards Lucifer and reluctantly he introduced himself.

“Alastor sir pleasure to put a face to the name”

Lucifer shot you a look before eyeing Alastor suspiciously

“Uuuhh and you are?”

Alastor eye twitched “i’m the host of the hotel…you might know me from my radio broadcast hmm?”

Lucifer shrugged “nope guess thats why Charlie named it the HAZbin hotel”

You facepalmed and charlie was visibly getting nervous as you could literally see Alastor’s ego flare

“HA HA HA actually i came up with that”

“Ha Ha Ha well it wasnt very clever!”

They were in each other faces now

Alastor growled “ha ha HA fuck you”

You interjected, getting between the two, mostly Alastor

 “Boys Boys reign it in PLEASE” you threw a look at Alastor, who straightened his suit.

You sighed and turned your attention to Charlie 

“Dear why dont you tell your dad the whole point of your hotel” you gave a tense smile.

“Y/n is right dad! Alastor here has been tremendous help with the hotel…i wouldnt have made it this far without him” lucifer made a face.

You could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head

He was up to no good.

“Yeeeeessss we are all very proud of Charlie. I am honored to fulfill any wish this lovely young lady has” 

He hugged Charlie and it took all of your willpower to not laugh at Lucifer’s annoyed look.

You giggled as he completely ignored Alastor and in turn to the others.

Charlie introduced her girlfriend and you could literally see his shoulders ease.

“OH thank Hell youre a lesbian! Cool cool i totally approve of THIS!”

Lucifer went on to give luxurious suggestions to Charlie, which Alastor shot down.

You sighed lovingly at Alastor’s antics.

He might have been the big bad Radio Demon, but he really was a softie when he wanted to be.

Definitely would have made a great dad…

You blushed at the thought.

Lucifer and Alastor were currently bickering with each other about who was the better father figure.

When suddenly the door flew open and a short, voluptuous, 1920 styled woman bursted in.

Your eyes widened “Mimzy?”

She squealed and embraced you in a tight hug, you kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting

“Ooooh y/n darling how you’ve been? Its been too long” she asked.

You grinned and gave a shrug “ooh it hasnt been that long has it?”

She greeted Alastor and gave you an astonished look “Y/n darling you still with dollface here?” you felt everyone eyes shift to you and you felt your eye twitch a bit but said nothing.

She begged to have you chat with her but you told her youll catch up her later, as you were helping Charlie and Alastor with Lucifer.

Not many people knew what your relationship with Alastor, hell not many people knew about Alastor life in general.

And you kind of liked to keep it that way but Mimzy was a talker if you ever saw one.

But Mimzy was not was one to just show up just out of nowhere…

She wanted something

You and Alaster were trailing behind Charlie as she explained the purpose of the hotel when Husker appeared to the two of you, addressing Alastor

“Boss a word with you” you quirked a brow when Alastor kindly shooed you off to have his discussion. You walked a bit aways before morphing into the wall and listened in on their conversation

“What is it?”

“You and I both know that Mimzy only pops her ass up when she needs somethin, that bitch is trouble and who knows what kind of shit she got into to come running to you”

True. 

“Dont worry so much Husker, its nothing i cant handle, besides who in their right mind would cross me?” 

“I mean…youve been gone a while and it aint like no one knows why-”

He was cut off

“And they dont need to know” that sharp smile was tight

Alastor patted Husker’s head condescendingly; like a pet.

Husker shoved his hand away angrily.

“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash”

You saw Alastor glitch, eyes turning to black and glowing dials

Uh oh.

“What did you say?”

Your eyes widened as contract chains shot out at Husker, wrapping around his neck

Alastor was menacingly toying with the chain as he growled

“If you ever say that again i will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every disrespectful wretch WHO DARES TO QUESTION ME!”

Husker was shaking like a leaf and you were stunned; Alastor rarely ever lost his composure.

When Alastor disappeared down the hall you morphed to Husker to ease his nerves

“Oh Husker are you ok?” you asked as you tried soothed his nerves.

He shook it off (not really) and grumbled “fucking asshole”

You headed back to the lobby with Husker when a loud BAM was heard.

What the fuck?

“Mimizy you skank c’mon out here!”

You see Mimzy hide behind the bar and raise a eyebrow.

You frown, going to heave her over the counter

“Mimzy care to enlighten me about what the actual fuck is that” 

She sweatdropped “i-i may or may not have borrowed some money from a loan shark”

Your frown deepened “how. Much. money?”

“O-o fifty…grand”

You hissed.

The hotel was shaking and was being heavily damaged

You pulled charlie out of the way as some debris fell from the ceiling and hissed at Lucifer “arent you gonna do something!?”

He was trying to make this a life lesson and now was NOT the time.

You growled and went to march right outside to give those goons a piece of your mind when a clawed hand settled on your shoulder.

“Dont worry dear ill handle this”

“But Alastor…”

His smile turned wild “its about time i reminded everyone why i am here…a reminder to not fuck with the Radio Demon!”

He transformed. Antlers out and black tentacles flaring.

You watch him grow big in size and rip the gangsters apart, eating a few.

You smiled wickedy, hells he was hot

After he had his fun he shrunk back to normal and you launched yourself at him

Lovingly you purred into his neck “you ok now?”

He grinned, nuzzling you “i missed blowing off some steam”

Mimzy approached the two of you and you frowned, opening your mouth to say something but Alastor beat you to it

“I think you should go Mimzy. Now”

She was shocked. Usually Alastor let her off the hook and it was you who normally told people off.

“Y-you cant be serious…”

His eyes narrowed “I mean it. You brought danger to this place just for me to clean up your mess. I wont allow that here”

He was putting his foot down. You leaned into him, happy.

You flashed her a sharp grin “i agree Mimzy, you should go”

She blinked “you backing up your hubby over ya own friend? y/n!”

She hissed at Alastor “you think i dont know you? You cant really give a shit about this place”

You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look, hissing as you felt your eyes glow in anger “leave Mimzy. While i’m the one being nice”

She huffed and turned to leave, but not before flipping you both off.

You relaxed and turned to Alastor, who was looking smug.

Tugging on his bowtie you craned his neck to your level, purring

 “Bedroom now dear”

His ears perked and his smile grew wider “feeling big emotions doll?”

“Ooh you have no idea”

With a flick of your hand the hotel was restored and you were whisking the lanky red demon upstairs to blow off some steam of your own

….

extra:

"what y/n and Alastor are married?!"

charlie blinked "yea i thought you guys knew that"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

[thesoftestpunk]

I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?” 

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating. 

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?” 

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class. 

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.” 

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering. 

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile. 

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head. 

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago. 

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you. 

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks. 

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you. 

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough. 

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is. 

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings. 

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today. 

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s. 

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?” 

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table. 

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today. 

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense. 

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday. 

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame. 

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either. 

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now? 

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it. 

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?” 

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you. 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks. 

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence. 

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?” 

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you. 

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands. 

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault. 

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop. 

His little sheepies. Which means… 

Fuck. 

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away. 

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!” 

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved? 

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation. 

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.” 

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted. 

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water. 

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows. 

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.” 

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.” 

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you. 

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.” 

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.” 

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open. 

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?” 

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength. 

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head. 

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.” 

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.” 

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap. 

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!” 

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air. 

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves. 

“You cheated.” 

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water. 

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.” 

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock. 

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.” 

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed. 

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long. 

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him. 

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.” 

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water. 

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile. 

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent. 

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.” 

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long. 

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.” 

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.” 

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

something that we’re not // fred weasley

Summary: You and Fred are friends. Best Friends. Who happen to cuddle and sleep in bed together all the time.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: lots of pda, fluff, jealousy, reader gets slapped by her friend

A/N: As always, remember English is not first language. Also, thanks to @coffee-jelly544​ for proofreading this.

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You huffed with relief and exhaustion as you exited the potions classroom and made your way through the dungeons to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Detention with Snape was the most agonizing experience you'd ever had. You've spent the last two and a half hours cleaning cauldrons just because you hadn’t turned in your essay on time, and it didn’t help that the greasy-haired professor had it in for you.

You weren't sure what was the cause of this animosity. You were a straight A student, always acing your exams and were proud to say you’re very good at potions. However, Snape always seems to have something against you. Also, you supposed it didn't help that Fred and George Weasley were your best friends. At every opportunity the twins would try to prank or annoy the teacher, seemingly without remorse and understanding of the consequences of their actions.

‘He must enjoy sucking the life out of his students.’

“Hi there, love,” Fred's cheerful voice greeted you as you entered the common room through the portrait hole. He was sitting on the wide sofa, with George next to him. You spotted Angelina in one of the love-arm seats and Lee on the floor near George's knees, even though there was another vacant love-arm seat in the room.

When he noticed your long face, the older twin reached out his arms and drew you into his lap.

“How was detention?” George asked.

“Awful,” you mumbled against Fred's chest. He caressed your back while his other hand played with your fingers absentmindedly. “I hate Snape.”

Lee guffawed, "I don't think anyone in their right mind likes Snape."

“Greasy prick had me scrubbing his filthy cauldrons for two and a half hours.”

“Oh! How dare he,” Fred mocked dramatically, causing a small smile to break out on your face. “Do you want Georgie and I to prank him?”

You lifted your face to connect your gaze with his, “Would you?”

“Anything for you, snookums.”

At his honest response, you squeezed his waist and buried yourself further into his chest.

“Perhaps you could try not to get into trouble next time,” Angelina, who had been quiet until now, advised.

This made your brow furrow, “I only gave him the essay two days late, and it was because I was bedridden, as you know.”

“Yeah, Angie,” George came to your defense, “Snape only gave her detention 'cause he has a grudge against us.”

Your eyes grew heavy, and the muscles in your face relaxed, releasing the strain of the day. Your limbs became limp, heartbeat growing tranquil. Your breathing slowed as you felt the steady rise and fall of Fred’s chest.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me?” Fred teased.

You hummed, “I might. You are quite comfortable.”

With a smirk on his face, Fred accepted the remark, “That I’ve been told before.”

George rolled his eyes at the silly—but typical— interaction between you two. Like the rest of your friends, he had grown accustomed to your flirting and displays of public affection, which you swore wasn’t hiding anything romantic.

“Carry me to bed?” You didn’t have to ask him twice. Fred tightened his grip on you, and with you safe in his arms made his way up to the girls’ dorm without complaint.

“Are we sure they’re just friends?” Lee inquired, intrigued.

“That’s what they say,” Angelina said in response.

“Fred!” You whispered-yelled, trying to wake your friend up without disturbing the other three blissfully sleeping on their mattresses. “Fred!” You tried again, this time lightly shaking his arm.

“Y/N/N?” His speech was sluggish, and his eyes were barely open, still half-asleep. The redhead looked down at his nightstand; the clock there marking 2:30 in the morning. “What happened?”

“I had a nightmare.”

Fred detected something peculiar in your small voice, and somehow knew you had been crying. He lifted the covers off his bed, inviting you to get in. He drew you close, your head resting on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding once you were in the safety of his arms. You gripped him in fear that he would vanish, and you were pleading with him to stay with you.

Fred noticed your distress and asked, “What happened, love?”

“I had a nightmare,” tears filled in your eyes as you recounted the images that had woken you up in the dead of the night. “You– You died, Freddie,” you wept, out of breath. Fred tightened his grip on you. “It was awful.”

“It was just a dream,” he tried to soothe you, running his hand through your hair.

“There was a war, and you were there, and there was this wall… it crumbled, and the rubble—” you couldn’t finish telling him as your words broke into sobs. Hot tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut in the hope the tears would stop.

“Shhh. I’m here, love. I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Freddie.”

“Who said anything about losing me?” He tried to lighten your mood. “You know I’m too stubborn to die.” He could feel you start to relax against him, but he still added, “You’re gonna have to put up with me for the rest of your life. It’s what you signed up for when you befriended me.”

His stupidity managed to make you crack a smile, and your choppy breathing and watery eyes slowly came to a stop. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Good. Me neither.”

Neither of you spoke again. You didn’t return to your dorm, and Fred didn’t ask you to either. You knew that if you let go of Fred's arm now, the nightmare would most likely strike again, depriving you of a good night's sleep.

Being wrapped in Fred’s arms calms you down and allows you to fall asleep, and slumber hits you after a few minutes.

The sun flowed golden through the window, making a polite announcement for the rising sun. The sunlight created rainbow diamonds that swirled across the wall's canvas.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” George’s chippy voice made you groan and bury further in Fred’s chest.

“They look very cozy, don’t you think, George?” You recognized Lee's voice.

“They certainly do, Lee.”

“Shut up!” Fred opened his eyes and tossed his pillow at his brother and best friend, who were standing at the foot of his bed. “People are trying to sleep over here.”

“Have you seen what time it is? You'll be in trouble if someone sees Y/N leave the room at this hour.”

That caused you to widen your eyes and turn to look at the clock. It was barely half an hour before breakfast.

“Oh shit!” You exclame.

“Why didn’t you wake us up sooner?”

George shrugged as he gazed at his brother. “You seemed very comfortable. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

The older twin rolled his eyes.

“Hey Y/N,” Lee called for your attention. “You are welcome to return tonight and sleep in my bed. I’m a better cuddler than Freddie.”

George laughed at his friend’s suggestion, but it didn't elicit the same emotion in Fred, who rolled out of bed and smacked his friend across his head.

“Ouch,” he grumbled, massaging his head.

“Watch it, Jordan,” Fred warned, pointing his finger at him.

“Yeah, Lee. Don’t you know Freddie boy here is the only one allowed to cuddle little Y/N/N?”

Fred was about to reprimand his brother when he was startled by the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut. When he turned around, he saw that you had already left the room.

You crept down the hallway of the boys’ dorms back to your room trying not to be caught by other students. When you reached the girls' dorms there's a loud noise around the corner and you quickly ducked into an alcove. You peek out and spot a group of girls chatting and laughing as they walk down the hall toward the common room.

Once the coast was clear, you went to your dorm and softly pushed the door open, trying to make as little noise as possible, until you were safely inside.

“G’day, buttercup,” Your friend, Alicia Spinnet, greeted you. “Fun night?”

She and Angelina were already dressed in their uniforms, gazing at you  like a deer caught in headlights. Angelina was looking at you, admonishing, while Alicia's eyes were amused. You didn't need to tell them where you'd spent the night because you were confident they already knew.

“You should not be sneaking into the boys’ dorms late at night. I’m sure you have plenty of time to snog your boyfriend during the day.”

“C’mon, Angie. Let the girl have her fun.”

You frowned at her. “Fred’s not my boyfriend.”

Angelina laughed at you humorlessly. “Yeah, sure.”

“What’s your problem?” You approached her, facing her. “You’ve been a bitch to me lately for no reason.”

“I’m the bitch? I’m not the one that sneaks into the boys’ room in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry that my friendship with Fred bothers you that much, but blaming me for his rejection will not make him want you.”

Something smacked against your face, and your cheek began to sting. When you realize your friend had slapped you, your heart began to race.

Angelina had always been there for you, through everything. She was, along with the twins, one of the first people you befriended during your first year at Hogwarts. But now, after years of friendship, she had finally let herself go too far. Slapping you in the face hard was something you never expected from her.

“Angie!” Alicia gasped horrified.

“It’s alright,” you interjected, taking a long breath. You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you altered. “Do you feel better now?” You looked at your friend, but you didn’t wait for her reply nor did you expect her to reply. You picked up your uniform from your trunk and made your way to the bathroom.

It'd been a week since your altercation with Angelina. She couldn't get the rage out of her head since then. Every time she saw you, she would experience an illogical outburst of anger. You haven’t tried to talk with her either. You were stubborn, but you weren't in the wrong this time, and she had no right to tell you the awful things she did, let alone hit you.

As if on cue, Angelina and Alicia entered the room. The smile on Angelina’s face caused by whatever Alicia said evaporated as her gaze was drawn to the table in front of her—you were sitting on one of the Gryffindor common room sofas. Fred's head rested on your lap, his legs sprawled out along the length of the couch while you ran your fingers through his ginger locks, braiding them.

Anger simmered inside her as she glared at you. She stomped her foot and mumbled a string of curses, her hands into fists as she marched towards the stairs that led to the dorms. Alicia smiled apologetically and followed her friend's lead.

“What’s wrong with her?” Fred gazed up at you, perplexed by the Quidditch Captain's actions.

“She’s upset that you don’t wanna go to the Yule Ball with her.”

“Still? Godric, you girls need to let things go.”

“You tell her that,” you grumbled, “She thinks we are dating.”

Fred didn’t seem fazed by your words. “Yeah. Lee and George think so too.”

“You have really soft hair,” you muttered, trying to change the topic of the conversation, as you didn’t like where it was heading.

“It’s the Weasley gene,” he joked, making you laugh.

“See, you can’t do shit like that and not want us to think you’re a couple.”

George and Lee dashed down the stairwell. They strolled over, leaning over the back of the couch, looking with amused eyes at the display of affection between you and Fred.

“I’m just braiding his hair,” you said more defensively than intended.

“You’re just jealous that you don’t have a best friend who braids your hair.”

The younger twin cracked a sly smirk. “Would you braid my hair, Y/N?”

“No, she won’t,” Fred answered almost in an instant, lacking amusement.

“Why not? She’s my friend too.”

“Exactly, you said it yourself— friend. Not best friends. You are just her friend. I’m her best friend and she can only have one best friend.”

“You’re so childish.”

“He’s like a possessive boyfriend who doesn’t like his girl hanging around with other guys,” Lee whispered in George’s ear.

“Watch this,” George mouthed at Lee, who was looking at him expectantly.

“Hey, Y/N,” you shifted your gaze away from Fred’s ginger locks to look at the other ginger. “Do you happen to have a date for the Yule Ball?”

Fred’s body stiffened at his brother’s words.

You squint your eyes at George’s question. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t asking just for the sake of asking. “I don’t.”

“Wanna go together?” He wriggled his eyebrows, “I’m the family's best dancer.”

“I doubt it,” you replied to him. “I bet Ginny’s got that talent, along with the brains.”

Lee roared a chuckle, and George placed a hand on his chest, a mock offended expression on his face.

“You hurt me, Y/N/N.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics.

“Who are you going to go with, then? I doubt you'll find a more suitable suitor than me.”

“She’s going with me,” Fred replied casually.

You lowered your gaze at your friend. “I am?” You inquired, “When did you ask me?”

“Now,” he said, smiling broadly, “Would you do me the honor to accompany me to the Yule Ball, dear Y/N?

Yule Ball night.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, your reflection stared back at you. You had never felt so beautiful before. You admired your dress, feeling happy with how it looked on you.

You were wearing a beautiful gown in spring garden hues. It had delicate blossom details and it was made of beautifully draped plisse tulle that pleats over a nude corset bodice. Whispery yet regal, plisse tulle at skirt had underlayers with subtle sparkle that made it truly magical.

You spent hours debating what to do with your hair, and in the end, following Alicia’s suggestion of a low bun with a French braid. You wrapped the bun with a lock of hair already plaited in a French braid and pinned it in place. And as a final touch, you added a cute hair clip for some extra glitz.

“Wow,” your friend gasped behind you. You turned around to meet her already in her gown. “Fred’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”

“I can say the same about Lee,” you smiled, “Have you seen yourself? You’re stunning!”

You took one last look at your reflection in the mirror before leaving the dorm. You couldn’t help but smile at yourself; this is going to be a night to remember.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you as you descended the stairs. You had always been beautiful to him, but tonight you were especially stunning. Watching you now, he couldn't believe that he was about to have the chance to dance with you. He had a warm feeling inside of him, and he couldn't help but smile at you. As you came closer, he could see the happiness in your eyes, which made him even more excited.

“Hi,” you greeted him when you reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over to him.

“Hey,” Fred smiled at you, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Shall we?” Fred inquired, extending his arm to you. You nodded and walked over to the Great Hall, linking your arm with his.

Soon enough, you were in the middle of the crowd, swirling around to the music. As you danced together, Fred felt like nothing could tear you apart. You laughed and smiled as you moved around the ballroom, and it was honestly one of the happiest moments of Fred's life.

As the night progressed and the music got slower and more sentimental, you knew that this would be one of the most memorable nights of your life.

“Are you having a good time?” Fred asked. You had your arms around his neck and his hands were respectfully on your waist as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

You hummed in response and gazed up at him. “Thank you for taking me. Even if you only did it to piss your brother.”

“What?” he frowned, “I didn’t take you to piss George off. He asked you to piss me off.” Fred grumbled.

“Why would it piss you off me coming with him?”  

Fred tensed briefly at your question, but he quickly brushed it off. “I didn’t say it would piss me off; I meant that he believed it would piss me off,” he quickly explained, “Y’know, since he thinks we’re dating.”

You took in his explanation, still not convinced enough. “And then you asked me just to prove to him that it did, in fact, piss you off?”

“I asked because I wanted to spend the night with you.”

“Then why did you wait ‘till the last minute?”  

You weren’t truly bothered, but you liked how he squirmed with each question you threw at him. It was hilarious to watch him so uneasy. It wasn’t something you were used to, so you were savoring the moment.

He was going to defend himself again when he saw the smile breaking out on your face. “You’re so mean,” he pouted.

“Sorry. You’re fun to mess with.”

As the songs continued to play and you kept swaying, you slowly –and probably unconsciously– brought each other in close until your bodies were pressed tightly against each other and you could feel each other's pulses racing under their skin.

“A little too close for a friend’s dance,” Angelina's crabby voice resonated among her friends at the table as they watched you and Fred dance a few feet away.

Alicia sighed at her friend’s snarky comment. She was tired of the situation and being in the middle of her two best friends’ feud, trying not to take sides.

“Still upset by Fred’s rejection?” Lee teased, “Or is it the fact that he’s in love with your best friend that bothers you?”

Angelina rolled her eyes. “I don’t bloody care who he likes. They could just say they're together once and for all, and not make us look stupid.”

“I don’t think they are together,” George chimed in, after a lengthy gulp of firewhiskey. “But there’s definitely something there.”

Lee frowned at the younger twin, “What made you change your mind?”

He was perplexed by his friend's quick change of heart. George was the first to suspect you and his twin were secretly dating and denying it to annoy them.

The ginger simply shrugged and sipped his drink again.

“I wish the school did more things like this,” you reflected. You were sitting on the couch in the Gryffindor’s Common Room, the ball had ended hours before, but the night hadn't ended for you and Fred. He was seated next to you, with your head resting on his shoulder. You sat there watching the fireplace flames dance and shimmer. You've always enjoyed the sound of a crackling fire and the warmth it provided during the winter months. However, Fred was completely focused on you. He admired the flickering light from the fireplace as it played off your features, making them shine. He couldn't take his eyes off of you.

He loved everything about you, from your laugh to your dimples.

Fred had never felt this way about someone. 'Should I say something? What if she thinks it's weird?' Maybe it was just because he'd never had that type of connection with anybody else before, but he didn't want to ruin it by intruding on your night.

“You didn’t have enough of my dance moves, did you?” He laughed, attempting to put any other thoughts to the back of his mind.

“You were pretty good. Surprisingly.”

A faux offended expression played on your best friend’s face. “Excuse me?” Fred placed a hand on his chest in mockery. “What do you mean by surprisingly?”

Before you could even get a clue of what was happening, you were pinned down on the couch, Fred's body hovering over you while his large fingers tickled your sides. You laughed hard, doubling over in pain and joy.

“Stop,” you said between giggles, trying to get away from him as he tickled you further.

"Okay, okay," you finally said when you knew you'd never be able to break free from Fred's grip, “I give up.”

When he was done, you lay there, gasping for air and laughing uncontrollably.

Fred reached for your face with his palm, tucking away a few strands of your hair, clearing the way so your gazes could meet.

You've always thought Fred’s eyes were beautiful and bright, always holding something special inside. It was difficult to put into words how much you loved looking into them, but it was definitely something special. Maybe it was just the way they made you feel small and vulnerable in a way that nobody else ever had, but there was just something about them that made you complete.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered ever so softly, and something turned in your stomach.

“You live to flatter.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“I never said I loved you.”

He smirked at your words. “Then, tell me,” he challenged, “Tell me you love me.”

You grew a sneaky grin on your face, moved in closer — if that was possible — and whispered in his ear, “Make me.”

His eyes darkened, and his smile became wider. His fingers sank into your waist again before you could react. “Tell me you love me!” he exclaimed.

“Never!” You shouted, giggling.

His fingers continued to tickle your sides, making you laugh, squirm, and beg him to stop.

“Say you love me, Y/N.”

“What in Merlin’s beard are you doing?” A reprimanding voice from the staircase made its way into the Common Room. “Do you know what time is it? You are gonna wake everyone up.”

George gave you a disapproving look, and he was too exhausted to see that he had wrecked the moment between his brother and you that Fred had been looking forward to for so long.

Fred sighed and got off of you, you followed his actions and went to pick up your heels from the floor.

“Sorry, Georgie,” you apologized to your friend, “You’re right, it’s late. I’m gonna head off to bed. Goodnight, guys.”

You didn’t spare a glance at the twins. You couldn’t look at Fred after what had happened,  and all you could think about was what might have happened if George hadn't walked in.

'Would you have confessed?

Would he have told you he loved you?

Would you have kissed?

What would it have felt to kiss his lips?'

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind of any stray thoughts concerning you and Fred.

You were only friends.

Best friends.

And that’s all you’d ever be.

But would let the rest of the world keep thinking that you were something more.

[beauspot]

Thoughts on my second watch of Good Omens 2

i heard the fly buzzing in my first watch but didn’t know why and now i know

Maggie my sweet darling angel baby i love you

Aziraphale turning their car yellow

crowleys “no more dying” in extreme scottish.

Disposable Demon i’ll save you from these awful people i promise 😭

Aziraphale’s little smile when he says “smitten” to Crowley

i wonder if crowley was especially hurt because aziraphale seemed to be able to forgive gabriel who tried to kill him but can’t seem to forgive him being a demon.(still seeing all of this as a metaphor for internalized homophobia, like aziraphale knows he’s not the perfect angel he wants to be and he’s projecting his feelings about that onto crowley)

I can’t believe we got an actual ball. like pride and prejudice, bridgerton ball.

the beautiful score that started playing when aziraphale brought the chandelier down

i didn’t even realize that when they walked in the outfits changed. mrs sandwich made me realize(also i love her)

Nina being the only one to question the weird magical shit Aziraphale and Crowley do sends me so bad.

Season 2 took everything i liked about the first season (aziracrow, queer subtext, gay people, archangels, and beelzebub) and expanded on it

The adorable smile on Aziraphales face when he asked Crowley to dance 😭 he’s so pure(i should have known something was up, everything was going too well)

Crowley saying i won’t leave you on your own and Aziraphale saying i know 🤒

why isn’t aziraphale able to miracle nina and maggie??

crowley and mrs sandwich flirting. too cute

crowley saying he’s neither nice nor a lad.

crowleys little run in heaven when he’s following muriel

maggie giving the middle finger to the demons and laughing in their face when they tried to belittle her. queen

defensive aziraphale is so badass. just because he’s soft doesn’t mean he can’t stand up for himself or the people he loves

the random guitar solo in the final episode theme is so bizarre to me. why is it there?

ahh the raining hearts symbolizing crowleys vavoom plan!

crowley’s heavenly outfit not being white but “light grey”

the relief in aziraphale’s voice when crowley came back 😀

also him mumbling about the halo like he did with the sword 😭 but he sure loves to boast about the things he’s done right to crowley

aziraphale and crowley doing magic together has the power to set off alarm bells in heaven and they barely tried, they’re just in sync

saraqael was such a good addition to the cast.

crowley smiling at aziraphale going off on the angels and demons

“where beelzebub is, is my Heaven.” 🥹

the little knowing look after crowley mentions alpha centauri

the way they just interrupted michael’s speech by leaving 😭

i think that aziraphale was about to ask crowley to move in but that’s my opinion

the look the metatron gave crowley is so strange. i don’t like that

“JUST US. NOT YOU.”

“You’re not helping, angel.”

the softness in aziraphale’s voice when he talked about making crowley an angel again? how can you hate him! he thought he was doing the right thing!

also the miscommunication these two have is completely out of hand because crowley asked aziraphale if he said no and aziraphale hadn’t given an answer AT ALL to the metatron. the metatron told him to take his time. he went back to tell crowley the news first.

crowleys confession makes my stomach hurt. the way his voice broke when he said “we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t.”. the way he had to force himself past his anxiety to tell aziraphale he wanted to spend eternity with him? fuck.

the way aziraphale tells crowley to come with him. like and through all of this they are losing each other, oh my god.

“i need you!” god aziraphale punch me in the face next time why don’t you?

i feel like in all this anger towards aziraphale a lot of people are ignoring that he put himself out there too. he was telling crowley he needed him just like crowley was

“no nightingales.” FUCK YOU GAIMAN

the way aziraphale touched his lips after. dear GOD. someone get michael sheen an emmy

seeing aziraphale struggle against his wanting to kiss crowley back and his fear and wanting him to come back to heaven further supports my internalized homophobia analogy

also even knowing the kiss was going to happen because of the spoiler it still didn’t quell my shock. nor did it ruin the scene, i think it actually surprised me more because it did not happen how i thought it would.

side note i saw some people saying they thought the kiss was going to be a cop out in some way. like a body swap or as a joke and i don’t really know why?

it just occurred to me that both aziraphale and crowley thought the other one was just doing that thing they do where they say they won’t help, or they’re on their own but they eventually come back not knowing that the other was completely set on these plans they had. this wasn’t like armageddon or saving gabriel.

the second coming…of jesus…

crowley cutting off “a nightingale sang in berkeley square”...i’m gonna jump

this being the ending for the next 3-4 years. oh.

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy

[lovelybrooke]

So, book 7 just released for the English Server, and it really made me want to write for Twisted Wonderland. When going through the chapters that were released, I couldn't help but think about the different reactions to reader leaving. Since there's a lot of characters, I'll only be talking about the Yandere first-years, but if you like this, I'll write for the other characters.

Ace:

Ace and Deuce both fight for the spot as your best friend. Ace always uses the argument that he met you first so he's obviously your best friend. It's why he gets so peeved whenever you mention going home. He honestly forgot about you going home around the time that you saved him and Deuce from Azul and his goons. He hasn't really thought about it, more has he wanted to think about it. It's childish, but any thought he has about the future involves you.

When it's brought up in the lunchroom that you could possibly go home through that mirror in your room, he's surprised. Like I mentioned, he forgot that you wanted to go home. He get's kinda mean when you bring it up, like it's the dumbest thing in the world. Why would you want to go home? There are so many people here so care about you and would be devastated if you left. Honestly, you're being kinda selfish, you're just going to abandon everyone who's done so much for you? That seems like a pretty dumb decision, don't bring it up again.

Deuce:

Deuce is the opposite of Ace. Unlike his friend, he's thought about you leaving many times, it keeps him awake at night some times. It's not all that bad, wondering what your world is like, what your fiends were like, what you were like. Other times, it's terrible, mind racing with thoughts of you leaving. What would you do if you could actually leave, would you hesitate, would you think of them? Or would you leave without a second thought, abandoning all the ones who love you behind. It's a scary thought.

After Ace is done berating you, Deuce is there to pick up the pieces. He reminds you that it's your choice, but that he would very much hate it if you went. Unlike Ace, who's just mean, Deuce presents himself with false sympathy, claiming to understand what you're feeling, even though that could never be possible. He tries to comfort you, but it's less of comforting and more attempting to make you forget about your home, reminding you all the great things this world has to offer. He'll go on and on, as long a it make you stay.

Jack

Jack is much more clam and understanding in comparison to the rest. He knew this would come one day. You'd eventually travel back home, leaving them behind, and the world would keep on moving. Before he was closer to you, he didn't really mind it. But as he got to know you, and as he grew closer to you, he began to hate the idea of you leaving. He's somewhat embarrassed by how close he's grown to you, but that's not really his fault, is it? You're the reason he's so messed up now, and I'd be kinda messed up of you to leave.

Jack is the one who actually comforts you. He rubs your back as he reprimands Ace for his harsh words. He'll whisper in your ear and remind you that you have all the right in the world to want to go home. He'll promise to help you find a way home, ignoring the pain in his heart when you thank him for all the help. He knows it's wrong, but a part of him wishes you never find a way back home, and you stay here, safe, with him.

Epel:

Epel wants so badly to be upset, he wants to yell and scream, get mad at you. But when you mention leaving, all that comes is this deep sense of loneliness. He doesn't react like the others, doesn't get angry or defensive, he doesn't try to comfort you. He keeps everything deep within him until he gets back to his dorm, where he cries for hours. He knowns you'd be disappointed in him, bottling everything in, but he can't help it. When he finally does come out of his room, his hair is messy and is face is red and stained with tears.

Epel does confront you later, at Ramshackle. He does finally blow up at you this time, but instead of anger, he begs you not to leave him. He hugs you and holds you tight until you promise him you won't leave. He needs you here, everyone needs you here. If you don't forget about leaving he'll hold you tighter, digging his nails into your back, not caring If it hurt. He'll remind you that at any point, he can break that mirror. So just promise him that you'll never leave.

Ortho:

Ortho just adores you. After helping his brother and seeing how far you'd go for him, he can't help but adore you. He wants to be your best friend, and sometimes he fears that will never happen. He met you so late, so many people got close to you before him. That's why he's kinda worried when you mention leaving. He barely knows you, at least not compared to the others and he doesn't want you to leave just yet.

Ortho starts spending a lot of time with you after you mention leaving. He's walking you to classes, eating lunch with you, and even studying with you. You often have to remind him to go back to his dorm, if you don't he'll never leave you alone. His behavior isn't that strange to you, but for Ortho, he's doing everything he can to insure you stay with him and his brother. He doesn't really see anything wrong with it, after all you are his best friend.

Sebek (I know he technically isn't apart of the gang yet but whatever):

Sebek is conflicted. On one hand, he thinks you're a stupid human, and getting upset at you leaving it a waste of time. On the other hand, he fills with rage whenever you mention going home. He doesn't understand why'd you want to leave. You are weak, magicless, and you want to travel back to a world far away from them when they could protect you instead? It just didn't make sense.

Sebek flat out refuses you leaving. Like it doesn't matter what you want, you are not leaving. His duty is to ensure Malleus's happiness, and you leaving would greatly upset him so no, you're not leaving. He won't mention that he doesn't want you t leave, that will never come from his mouth. But you know something is wrong with him when he demands more of your time, and refuses to let you out of his sight.

[itoshiexx]

thin line

synopsis: four times itoshi rin said he hated you, and the one time he finally said the truth.

pairing: itoshi rin x gn!reader | words: 5k (insane) | warnings: enemies to (implied) lovers, cursing (rin being rin), rin is a total tsundere and emotionally constipated, banter, teasing, one (1) sexual implication towards the end, i use the word hate a lot, kinda proofread

notes: oh my GOD. you have no idea how hard it was for me to write (and finish!) this. writer's block has been kicking my ass really hard and honestly i don't even know if i like this but i swear to god if this flops i'll kms. (jk. maybe. or not.)

masterlist sae's 4+1

i.

itoshi rin was a hater. 

he didn’t consider himself one, naturally. rin thought he was a pretty chill guy, but apparently, everyone who had some sort of interaction with the younger itoshi felt the same kind of vibe coming from him. at least, it was what his stupid teammates said after claiming rin was always hating on something — whether it was the line in the coffee shop being too long, every pass given to him by isagi or the librarian with “a stupid fish-face”.

on his defense, no one liked long lines, isagi had two left feet when it came to passing and the librarian was a fucking weirdo. even if he was a hater, he had a plausible reason for everything he hated. 

“itoshi.”

that included you, of course.

rin was pretty convinced it was impossible not to hate you. every time he entered your shared biology class, a mere look at you was enough for his irk to grow even more. everything about you was just obnoxious.

you were loud. and, although unpleasant, that wouldn’t be much of a problem if you just weren’t unable to shut the fuck up and stop rambling excitedly at every friend you met. and you had many. you were some kind of weird social butterfly with infinite energy for social interactions — in a way, you reminded him of bachira. 

but bachira was not always jumping at every chance to refute him with a know-it-all smirk. bachira wasn’t perpetually ready to throw witty remarks at his rudeness. and bachira definitely didn’t have a pretty gleam on his eyes every time he headbutted with rin.

in short, you were everything itoshi rin hated. and the worst part was that you knew. you knew how much your very existence annoyed him, and it seemed like you took as your life mission to make the next two years of his life a living hell. 

“itoshi.” your voice reached his ears again. well, maybe if he just ignored you, you would… “itoshi!”

“what the fuck do you want?” he snapped, diverting his attention from the match playing on his phone to look at you. “i told you not to call me that.”

another thing he hated — to be called by his last name. it reminded him way too much of sae, and that was something rin didn’t want to do. but it wasn’t like he was going to tell you that, so he’d rather let you think he just didn’t want you to address him at all. which wasn’t a lie, either. 

you gave him a puzzled look, tilting your head like an innocent puppy. a fake naivety, of course. “we’re not close enough for me to call you by your first name, though.”

“thank fuck.” 

your eyes rolled at that. “language, itoshi.” he glared at you again, and you fixed your posture, putting your hands on the back pockets of your jeans. the malicious smile you gave sent chills down his spine. 

“well, i just came to deliver you the news since you missed last period. there’s a project worth 75% of our grade to be delivered in two months, and guess what? we’re together!”

oh, hell no.

“you tell terrible jokes.”

“i’m serious, though. if you don’t believe me, just ask your friends,” you said, so absentmindedly that rin felt his blood pressure rising. he opened his mouth to retort, but you beat him to it. “and before you try, the teacher already said no one can work alone and that the pairs cannot be exchanged.”

his left eye twitched, and he was pretty sure all his muscles were tight and ready to combust. life just couldn’t give him a break, could it? it was like he was being punished — forced to work with you, of all people. what a fucking nightmare. 

how the hell was he supposed to endure two months of constant interactions with your annoying sassiness and the pretty curve of your lips when you smirked? it might just drive him crazy. 

“so, when can we start, partner?”

rin rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck on the back of his skull. 

“i hate you.”

ii.

the soccer field was probably the only place rin felt at peace. the smell of grass and sweat was as familiar as his home, much like the round shape of the ball on his feet and the path to the goal. despite his rowdy teammates and their dumb antics, there wasn’t much that was able to distract him and break this peacefulness.

“itoshi!”

there was still something, though. or someone, for that matter.

the shock of seeing you in his “happy place” was so big rin nearly tripped on the ball, successfully letting bachira steal it from him. the snickers from reo and isagi made his skin boil with anger, but his harsh glare was directed at you — the fucking source of all his problems. 

and no, he was not being dramatic. 

“what are you doing here.” 

it wasn’t really a question, more like a veiled threat; but you seemed oblivious to it, or simply didn’t care about his reaction. something in him even thought you liked getting on his nerves. he was sure of it when you smirked.

“the project, dummy. we need to start today if we want to get it done in time. it’s pretty long, hence why we have two months.”

“i can’t today,” was all he said. 

“why?”

“because,” rin spat with venom on his tongue, “i have an important game next week.”

you stared at him in silence. rin would have thought about how the sun shining on your back framed you with a perfect halo and gave you a nearly angelic look if he wasn’t so busy controlling the heat on his face from your scrutiny. he hated when you did that. he hated you. 

“we have to start today, itoshi. i’ll wait until you finish practicing so we can go to the library.”

he hated your stubbornness. he hated your voice, too — how it sounded like a siren’s melody, ready to trap him and bring him to the bottom of the ocean.

“fine. suit yourself.”

the young itoshi turned around and went back to the field, ignoring aryu’s pestering and shidou asking about who you were and if he could have your number. rin pondered if a yellow card was worth shutting up the insect, but eventually decided against it; he didn’t want ego to bench him, especially when they were so close to the tournament next week. 

the rest of the game went pretty smoothly, although rin and his teammates could tell he had half of his focus on the sidelines, where you sat prettily at the stands with your laptop. a perpetual scowl was on his face throughout the rest of the match. you were so damn distracting it was annoying. 

once the match was over, some of the boys went home, while others continued practicing, rin being one of them. he was expecting you to grow tired and give up, especially considering it was getting darker and colder, but you didn’t waver. your face was still present on the stands, haunting him even if he closed his eyes. you even had the audacity to smile when your gazes crossed.

he hated your smile. he did. 

hours passed until every one of his teammates had gone home, and rin was the only one left in the field. deciding it was finally enough (and not admitting he was starting to worry for you), he stopped his moves, finishing up with a few stretches so that his muscles weren’t too sore. he stored the footballs on the cart and put away the cones, something that was already routine at that point since he was usually the last one to leave.

finally, rin walked towards you. 

“i’m done,” he said as he approached you on the sideline of the field. his gym bag was right at your side, and he ignored the electricity that sparked his skin when it grazed yours. 

your eyes averted from your laptop to look at him. “oh, hi! thought you’d take a little longer,” you retorted. “anyways, i’m done too.”

he stopped his movement. “what?”

“yeah, i finished the first topic. only fourteen more to go.” the giggle that flew out of your mouth reverberated through his body. rin watched as you stood up and stretched, looking away when your shirt rode up and a sliver of your stomach could be seen. you then proceeded to put your laptop away, and his brows furrowed. 

“i don’t get it. i thought you said… you said it was too much stuff to do by yourself.” you nodded, not even looking at him. rin kind of wished you did. “and yet you did everything?”

“well, yes.”

his scowl only worsened. “what the fuck? why?”

you slung your bag through your shoulder, looking at him with those damn doe-eyes that always sparkled so much. it was annoying. why did they remind him of the stars? and why did rin wanted to watch the night sky on your face?

“you said you have an important game next week, so i figured it wouldn’t kill to do the first topic by myself,” you answered. “don’t get used to it, though! you’re gonna have to help on the next ones, partner.”

the young itoshi ignored the stupid nickname, his brain still trying to catch up to everything. something just wasn’t clicking…

“so why the hell did you wait for me to finish practice?”

you didn’t even falter.

“thought you could use the company.” you shrugged. and although your voice was nonchalant, you were smiling. and not your typical mischievous smirk — it was a sweet, sweet smile, dripped in honey and all things good in the world. 

rin’s heart leaped on his chest. he could feel his cheeks becoming flushed, but he blamed it on the cold. 

coming to think of it, it was really cold. and you sat there for hours… if he looked closely, he could see your frame shivering from the lack of proper clothing. 

a little tsk came out of his mouth, and rin impulsively took off his jacket, throwing it on your face — ignoring the “hey!” you sent his way.

“what’s that for, itoshi?!”

“so that you don’t freeze to death, dumbass.”

rin had to admit your gaping expression was kind of cute. not that he would commit to memory or something… that would be lukewarm, and he was anything but lukewarm. especially when it came to you. 

“don’t get any ideas, though,” he said before you could retort, turning around to follow the path to his dorm room, “i still hate you.”

iii.

things were calmer after the game passed. rin often found himself at the university library with you after his practice, leaving around nine or ten, and walking you to your dorm building simply because he didn’t want to be bothered in case something happened to you. not like he was worried for your safety or anything.

you still got on his nerves, but the project was going surprisingly well. rin learned you were very dedicated and meticulous, meaning you put in a lot of effort to focus and make everything as perfect as it could be. he wished he could say his focus was also as sharp as ever, but the scent of your coconut shampoo always lingered on the study booths and made his mind fuzzy. 

it was tuesday night and you were both on your laptops doing research and writing on your paper, falling into the same little routine you established the past weeks. the library was nearly empty as usual — though you always sat at the furthest cabin because rin didn’t like to see, hear or speak to people — and the only sound in the ambience was the pitter patter of the rain. 

everything seemed to be going fine, but things changed when the rain got heavier and became a strong thunderstorm that made the lights go out.

“fuck,” rin cursed under his breath, looking around to hear other people mumbling complaints and the librarian saying she would turn on the power generator, asking for calm and patience. he squeezed the bridge of his nose, annoyed, and turned to you. “hey, do you think—”

then he stopped. 

the only source of light was the screen of your laptops and the occasional lightning striking on the dark sky, but rin could see you on the other side of the table as clear as day. and he felt his heart squeeze impossibly hard with the sight. 

you were shaking like a leaf, hands squeezed tight and nails prickling your skin, and your eyes were widened and so, so scared. he had never seen you wear such an expression, always familiar with your confidant, cheery self, and he decided he didn’t like one bit. 

“hey,” he whispered, trying to grasp your attention. however, your eyes were focused outside. “hey, look at me.”

slowly, your orbs met his, and rin felt his breath hitch. there were tears on your lash line threatening to fall, and panic began to rise on his throat; but he forced himself to stay calm for your sake. 

“what’s wrong?”

your lips trembled, but nothing came out. he hated your voice, but found himself missing it. so he tried again.

“are you… afraid of the dark?”

his question was answered when the sound of another thunder reverberated again, making you visibly flinch. his gaze softened when a small hiccup left your lips. 

“oh. it’s the thunder.”

you nodded, still unable to talk. rin could see you were forcing yourself to keep your sobs contained, as if the mere thought of crying in front of him was as dangerous as standing at gunpoint. like his words — venomous, harsh, cold words — could hurt you just as much as a bullet. 

his stomach churned with that thought. he hated it. 

so, as carefully as he could so as not to startle you, rin stood up from his seat and walked around the table until he reached the chair at your side, sitting on it. he felt you body tense with the proximity, more so when he slightly turned to stare at you, and felt the need to say something.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, so impossibly soft you could hardly believe it was itoshi rin saying those words to you. 

it was even more unbelievable when he enveloped your body in a hug, bringing your head to his chest as if to shelter you from the thunder. 

rin really hoped you couldn't hear the unrestrained beating of his heart. everything about that moment made him nearly combust; from the ever present smell of your shampoo when he rested his nose in your hair, the evident relaxation of your frame when he hugged you or the small arms that held his waist as if he was the only lifeline in the ocean. 

you let your sobs and sniffles run free, burying yourself deeper in his embrace, and all rin could do was pat your hair and whisper soft reassurances on your ear. 

it’s okay. you are safe. i won’t let it hurt you. 

he didn’t know how long you both stayed in that position, but as he enjoyed the warmth of your body next to his, your sobs eventually died out along with the roaring sound of thunder. the rain became thinner and the lights finally came back, although neither of you made a move to separate. 

the silence lingered for a moment before you broke it, “thank you.”

the male only hummed, trying to hide his disappointment when you slowly backed away. though his hand didn’t leave you, going from your hair to rest on your hip in some type of reassurance squeeze. 

“i-i’m sorry, it’s just…”

“you don’t have to explain,” he interrupted. then, hesitantly added, “only if you want to.”

“it’s not something big or anything… this fear has just kind of been there. i think something happened to me when i was a kid and it was thundering, so every time it happens i just… freeze.” you shook your head. “it’s stupid.”

he frowned. “it’s not stupid if it makes you this terrified. it’s okay, we all have fears.”

you were yet to look him in the eye, seemingly embarrassed about your triggered phobia. “i cried on your shirt.”

“yeah.”

“it has tears stains.”

“yeah.”

you sighed. “i’m sorry.”

he squeezed your hip again. “don’t apologize.”

you finally raised your head to look at him, and rin could very much consider himself a lost man at that moment. your eyes were glistening from the remnant of tears, but that pretty gleam was still there, barging its way through any sadness and any fear to present itself with the shy smile you sent him.

even if it was still dark, he would be able to see it, because you shined. brightly, scorchingly and so, so mesmerizing, like some sort of classic painting worth millions of dollars. if rin had the choice, he wouldn’t want to look away. 

“i think it’s enough for today,” you said, “do you mind if we continue tomorrow?”

“i don’t mind,” rin answered, although he secretly wished to bask in your warmth for a little longer. “i’ll take you to your dorm building. i brought an umbrella.”

because he knew you were a klutz and would most likely forget. not that he paid attention to you or something. 

you smiled again, and rin had to use all of his might to let go of you and go back to his chair to pick up his stuff. silently, you both put away your things and left the study booth towards the exit, where the younger itoshi opened his umbrella and started to walk towards your destination. he felt his skin burning when you tangled your arm with his so that you were squeezed together under the shelter for the rain.

around ten minutes later, you finally arrived at your dorm building. and then, as the little minx you were, you stood on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before running inside along with your goodbyes. 

“thank you, rin!”

he stood there like a statue for what felt like an eternity, feeling his face impossibly hot. rin touched his cheek in mild disbelief, feeling butterflies erupting on his stomach without permission. 

it was only then he realized you called him by his actual name, and a smile inevitably took over his features. 

fuck.

itoshi rin hated you. but that day, he discovered that he hated seeing you cry even more.

iv.

he didn’t really know what the fuck he was doing there. rin was not the kind of guy who went to parties, much less fraternity ones; but somehow he ended up in one on a saturday night after a lot of convincing from his teammates. he claimed he only accepted so that isagi would shut up and stop pestering him, but the said boy insisted to say he only agreed after learning you would be there. 

which was absurd, of course. a completely crazy, delusional and absurd thought. why would he want your obnoxious self to go and ruin the party? rin hated you. 

right?

the music was loud and the people were even louder. there were dozens of bodies on the makeshift dance floor swaying to the beat, along with some people playing beer pong and small groups scattered around talking as best as they could. rin was part of the last type, although he was tuning out everything that bachira blabbed on his ear like a madman. his focus was solely on the entrance.

and then, you came in. 

it was like a stupid romance movie — the way everything seemed to be in slow motion. from the way you walked, to the slight movement of your hair, to the blink of your curved eyelashes. and god, how much he hated that. 

he hated the way your mere presence prickled his skin. how your voice soothed his lousy thoughts, how your smile lit up the room. he hated this urge inside of him to look for you every time he knew you'd be in the same vicinity, like you were some source of life that he couldn’t live without. 

“are you okay, rin-chan?” bachira’s voice took him out of his thoughts. he blinked a few times.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

now, rin wasn’t a drinker; the red cup on his hand was merely for show. but he gulped some beer at that moment, as if trying to wake up from a hazy dream or get out of a trance. it made sense — he did think you were a siren of some sort. 

there was no other reason for the spell you put on him. 

the party went on, and he spent a few hours avoiding you like the plague and pretending he wasn’t stealing glances at every chance he got. truth is, he was always paying attention when you were swaying your hips on the dance floor like there was no tomorrow, glaring at every guy who thought about getting close while holding back his own desire to do the same.

it was only when you left to the backyard that his teammates finally decided to say something.

“you should talk to them” reo advised, eyebrows dancing in a weird, wiggly way. rin grimaced.

“what? why?”

the boys rolled their eyes and groaned, tired of the younger itoshi’s behavior. 

“rin, man. you are clearly interested in them. and i’m pretty sure they’re interested in you, too,” isagi said slowly, as if rin was a child. “otherwise, they wouldn’t make the effort to pester you.”

rin could feel his face flushing. “i’m not—”

“don’t even try to deny it. it’s kind of obvious, really,” chigiri butted in, an exasperated countenance on his face. “just go, rin.”

he let out a tsk, chugging the rest of his drink and throwing the cup on the trash. “i’m going out just because i don’t want to keep listening to you idiots.” 

“yeah, right,” nagi snickered, and the others followed, watching rin turn his back and move towards the backyard, where he would inevitably find you. 

the chilly air hit his skin the moment he stepped out, and rin kind of thanked the relief it gave to his hot cheeks. quickly looking around, it was easy to spot your lonely frame leaning on the wall, staring at the stars as if they weren’t in your eyes. he walked to you like his feet had their own will, and once he got close enough, leaned the side of his body on the wall, facing you.

“you’re cold.”

not even a hello, how are you to start. great conversationalist, itoshi rin.

you turned your head to look at him, smiling when recognition took over your features. “hey, itoshi! didn’t think i’d meet you here!”

the giggle that went past your lips was the only reason he didn’t scowl when you didn’t call him rin.

“parties are not really my thing, but my friends convinced me to come.” you nodded, understanding. he blinked a couple of times, and said again, “you’re cold.”

you slightly flushed. “it’s just a bit chilly, but it’s not a big deal…”

but rin was already shrugging off his jacket, moving to be right in front of you as if to shield you from the wind. he handed the piece of clothing to you. “here.”

“oh… thank you,” you answered, bashful, taking the jacket and putting it on. 

last time he lent you one, he didn’t stay to see how you looked like. but at that moment, rin was sure there was nothing prettier than the sight of you in his clothes. he swallowed a nervous lump from his throat.

“so… why are you out here by yourself?”

“needed some air. i danced a lot and it was kind of stuffy in there.” you shrugged. then, fiddling with your fingers, you look straight into his eyes. “and maybe… maybe i was hoping someone would follow.”

someone. you had your eyes on someone. 

rin didn’t know what was worse: the stinging pain on his heart or the bitter taste left on his tongue. what he did know was that both felt like poison, one that would spread through his veins and consume him whole. and that he shouldn’t feel like this. because he hated you, after all. 

he must have made a terrible grimace, because you threw your hands in the air in exasperation. 

“for fucks sake.”

and then your lips were on his. 

it was just a fleeting moment — something way too quick and definitely not enough to sate the dormant hunger inside of him. in the blink of an eye, you were already back in your place, staring at him with doe-eyes and a hundred doubts written in them. 

rin freezed for a whole full minute with his mouth agape, until finally lunging forward to kiss you again. his right arm wrapped possessively around your waist to glue your bodies together, while his left hand found a place in your jaw, cradling your face as if you were some precious jewel. his lips were hungry on yours, and you gasped with the intensity, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue inside your mouth. 

kissing you was exhilarating, like scoring the perfect goal or winning a championship. adrenaline ran high on his veins and his head was a little airy. and rin swore he never felt so alive. 

when you finally parted, you were both panting, chest heaving with every breath. rin rested his forehead against yours, directing both of his hands to your middle as if to look for grounding. 

“you still hate me, itoshi?” you asked in a whisper, mouth inches away from his but still not close enough. that dangerous gleam was still settled in your eyes, and he could swear you were the perfect definition of sinful every time you batted your eyelashes at him.

“call me rin.”

“okay,” you giggled lightly. “you still hate me, rin?”

he could feel his blood pulsing on his ears. “yeah,” he answered, way too breathless for an athlete of his caliber. 

and then, holding your waist tighter, “kiss me again.”

v.

“we should get coffee.”

rin’s words cut the silence as you were exiting the library yet again. you looked up to see his face staring straight ahead, expression unreadable as always, but the light redness on the tip of his ears told you all you needed to know. 

you decided to be a tease, as always. “hm… i don’t know, should we? you sure you want to spend even more time with someone you hate?”

he scowled like usual, but this time, there was a small pout on his lips. you thought he looked the cutest when he was like that, all shy and trying to maintain his stoic act. 

he grumbled something under his breath. 

“what was that?”

“i said,” he sneered, “i don’t hate you, stupid.”

you arched your brow. “you don’t?”

“do you think i would have kissed you if i did?” the smirk you give him is both charming and infuriating. rin would have said he hated it, but he was done pretending. 

“i don’t know, itoshi. you are kind of emotionally constipated.”

“shut up,” rin quipped. then, he snaked your waist with his right arm as you walked side by side, pulling you closer. “and didn’t i tell you to call me rin?”

there was just mischief in your eyes when you answered, “yeah, but i like to get on your nerves.”

the male scoffed, still in disbelief with your antics. 

“you’re a damn brat. i think you just want me to teach you my name tonight.”

rin could practically feel the heat on your face, and he smirked when he saw how red you were. god, you were so cute. 

“at least take me to dinner first before we hate-fuck,” you still managed to joke, despite the slight shakiness in your voice. he rolled his eyes, and pulled you to a stop by the arm. 

you both stood in the middle of campus, feeling the gentle caress of the breeze and listening to the birds chirping. it was a peaceful day, with the sun high up in the baby blue sky. rin thought there was no better time than at that moment. 

his hand traced your arm until it reached your own, and he squeezed your fingers in reassurance. 

“i don’t hate you,” he said again. “i just hate the way i don’t hate you. not even close. not even a little bit. not even at all.”

he watched your eyes light up and smile brighter than the sun, and he almost laughed at the disbelief in your voice. 

“did you just quote ‘ten things i hate about you’?”

it was his time to flush. a small shrug was all rin answered with — he didn’t want you to know he specifically chose this sentence because that was your favorite movie. not like it mattered when you were gleaming at him and making his heart leap on his chest. 

“well, then,” you squeezed his hand back, “let’s get coffee, rin.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNSPOKEN

A/N: i literally started writing this over a year ago, then forgot about it and now i revisited it and finished it. im not entirely satisfied with how it turned out to be, it's kind of one big clishé, but... i would hate if it went to waste, it's a long fic so here it is!

WORD COUNT: 9.8k

SUMMARY: Your college roommate wants to get you out of your shell and brings you to your first frat party. It's not quite your setting, but when you meet a nice boy in the bathroom it gets better. Right until he catches your roommate's eyes as well.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

FRESHMAN YEAR

Your first ever college party is just like how you imagined it. Lots of drunk people, a frat house packed to its fullest capacity, music blasting so loud your ears will surely be ringing in the morning and lots and lots of anxiety. On your part, at least.

You’ve never been quite the party person, weren’t really invited to them most of the time through high school, but it seems like that’s about to change thanks to your roommate. Izzy is practically your polar opposite, judging from the two days you’ve known her, she was definitely part of the popular kids in high school and she’ll make herself a name in college as well. She seems nice and she was the one who dragged you to this party, some guy invited her, she met him on her first day on campus, they just randomly bumped into each other and of course, he tried to flirt with her. She is the kind of girl guys fall head over heels in love with within seconds, while you’re more of a wallflower. Seemingly it’s her mission to push you out of your comfort zone and get you to socialize more. 

Normally you wouldn’t want to change, there’s a reason why you don’t like parties and lots of people around you, but because you’re desperate to find new friends, you’d do anything it takes and right now Izzy is your best shot at it. 

“Come on, let’s get a drink!” she smirks and already pulls you towards the kitchen as if she was already familiar with the place. 

There are bottles and red cups everywhere, you keep bumping into drunk people as you try to follow Izzy into the kitchen. She snatches a bottle of vodka as if it was waiting exclusively for her and pouring some into two cups she tops the drinks with orange juice, handing you one of them.

“Cheers to the best years of our lives!” she grins, bumping her cup against yours and you just smile as you both take a sip from the drinks. 

“Wow, it’s… strong,” you say with a surprised frown, you haven’t been quite the drinker either and the proportion of vodka and orange juice in the drink is definitely wilder than you expected.

“That’s the point,” she winks. 

You follow her around for the next about an hour, it seems like Izzy didn’t waste her time since her arrival and already made several friends. She keeps introducing you to everyone she runs into, though you remember just about no names minutes later. 

You feel like you stand out, but you tell yourself it’s only because everyone is new and you’re overwhelmed by all the changes that’s been happening around you. 

Excusing yourself you go and look for a bathroom somewhere upstairs. After opening a few wrong doors you finally find the one you were looking for and lock it behind you so no one can walk in. Just as you approach the toilet, a voice speaks up from the bathtub.

“Um, before you do anything, you’re not alone.”

“Holy shit,” you gasp in shock when you turn around and see a guy sitting in the bathtub. Your heart is about to jump out of your chest, you weren’t expecting anyone and it’s a luck he spoke up before you went on to use the toilet. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. 

“I-It’s fine, I was just not expecting anyone to… be sitting in the bathtub,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows as you say it out loud.

“I know, I just… I’m having a break so I’m not forced to take another shot,” he shakes his head chuckling.

“And the tub was your best idea to hide? Aren’t people coming in to use the bathroom?”

“Well, yes, but more often to have sex than to actually use it.”

“Oh…” you breathe out. 

“But I didn’t watch, if that’s what you’re concerned about, I let them know the room is occupied in time,” he grins and it makes you laugh. “Seemingly that’s not why you’re here, so I’ll let you use my little hideaway.”

He gets up and leaves so you can use the toilet in peace and you expect him to disappear, but when you walk out, he is standing by the door.

“You’re coming back?” you ask, as you switch places.

“I’m gonna enjoy some more peace,” he shrugs with a smile. “You can join me, if you want,” he offers and it comes as a surprise, because it feels like he genuinely wouldn’t mind it if you joined him. 

Honestly, you could use a break from the madness outside, so before you could overthink, you nod and follow him inside, closing the door behind you. 

The guy is already climbing back into the tub and when he has taken his spot, he gestures for you to do the same and sit across from him. It feels weird and ridiculous, but you join him at last, the cold surface of the tub feels soothing against your hot skin that heated up because of the crowd that’s outside.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself, holding a hand out for you. 

“Y/N.”

“Are you a freshman too?”

“Is it that obvious?” you ask with a nervous chuckle.

“No,” he shakes his head smiling. “Just maybe a little bit,” he then adds. 

Sitting in that tub, you engage into a conversation with Harry that flows so smoothly and easily, it almost feels like you’ve known him for longer than just about thirty minutes. He has a great humor and he’s exceptionally smart. All of that pairs with a pretty charming look and he almost feels too good to be true to be chatting with you at a party full of girls like Izzy. 

Almost an entire hour passes, but you barely notice, his phone’s buzzing is what pops your little bubble.

“Ah shit, my friends are asking where the hell I went, I think I need to make an appearance,” he sighs, texting something back quickly. “Do you want to grab a drink?”

“With you?” you ask with wide eyes, which makes him chuckle.

“Of course! Come on, let’s show our faces.”

Harry climbs out of the tub and then helps you out as well offering you a hand that you gladly take and when you’re standing on your feet outside of the tub, his hold stays a bit longer, pulling you towards the door, only letting go of your hand when you step out of the bathroom. But even as you head downstairs, he places a hand to the small of your back, guiding you through the sea of drunk guests as you make your way to the kitchen. 

The butterflies in your tummy are definitely going crazy, the attention and affection Harry has shown you in the past hour is more than what you’ve gotten from boys all your life. 

“Alcoholic or something light?” he asks, looking around at the selection on the counter.

“Maybe something light,” you say and he doesn’t even try to convince you to drink something else. He pours some kind of juice into two cups and hands you one, bumping his cup against yours with a charming smile before he lifts it to his lips. 

“I don’t know where my friends are, but they are up to no good for sure,” he chuckles as he looks around. “Do you want to look for your roommate?”

You open your mouth to answer, but right in that moment Izzy appears out of the blue.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you for ages! Where did you go?”

“Oh, I was just…”

“My fault, sorry,” Harry speaks up. “I kept her up, bored her to death,” he adds chuckling. Izzy turns to face him and you immediately see the shine in her eyes upon seeing Harry while your stomach churns. 

“And who are you, handsome stranger?”

“I’m Harry, nice to meet you. And you must be Izzy, Y/N’s roommate.” Harry holds his hand out but Izzy goes for a hug instead, which obviously surprises him, but he circles an arm around her waist anyway.

“Nice to meet you too, Harry, would you like to join me and my friends for a round of beerpong?” she invites him right away. Harry looks at you as if he is looking for your approval, but you feel like you have no power in this situation, Izzy is the boss, so you just force a smile to your face.

“Um, sure,” he nods.

The three of you join Izzy’s group outside at the beerpong table and you feel overshadowed even more now than before. Seemingly your roommate is very into your new friend, it’s pretty obvious Izzy is flirting with Harry, showing her liking to him, it doesn’t even occur to her that you might feel the same way about Harry. 

If you were confident enough you’d stand up for yourself, you met Harry first and up until Izzy showed up it seemed like he liked you as well, but now he is too busy to pay any attention to you, because Izzy makes sure all of his attention is on her. But you’re not the type who speaks up that easily, so you just stand back and witness your roommate shamelessly flirting with the one guy you had your eyes on.

If you’re being honest you’re not surprised, only disappointed. If you were a guy you’d choose Izzy over you anytime, she is outgoing, gorgeous, charming, exactly what guys usually look for. Everything you’re not. 

You go home that night on your own, Izzy is very much into partying until dawn, but you lose interest watching her cling onto Harry, so you sneak out sometime around one o’clock and go back to the dorm. You wake up when she arrives hours later, but pretend to be asleep in case she wants to brag to you about anything that might have happened between her and Harry.

The semester officially kicks in on Monday. It turns out Izzy has a class together with Harry and she goes on and on about how this is fate when the two of you meet at the dormroom later. You just sit and listen, nod along and try to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. 

“I’m so happy you introduced me to him, Y/N!” she sighs dreamily and you can’t help but clench your jaw at her words. You never really introduced them, she just showed up and joined the conversation. She never asked if you liked Harry, if you wanted to shoot your shot. She just assumed she’s got the green light. 

Harry sends you a friend request on Facebook and you accept it, he even starts to chat with you, which is nice and definitely makes your heart flutter, but knowing that he’s hanging out with Izzy and that she definitely wants to further their relationship, you remain a bit distant and cold so your heartbreak won’t be as bad.

A week later they officially become an item.

Izzy drags you along sometimes, even though you tell her you don’t quite like third wheeling, but she always tells you that won’t happen. It does and you hate every minute of it, so after a while you start to make up excuses just to avoid spending time with them.

It goes on for about two months, right until one day, out of the blue, Harry breaks up with Izzy. She is seemingly heartbroken and hurt, though you have a feeling it’s more about how her ego was hurt by being dumped rather than the actual emotional part of the breakup. 

The aftermath of it is that it’s not said out loud, but it’s obvious Izzy doesn’t want anything to do with Harry ever and she expects you to do the same. She cuts out any and every possible future chance for you to even be friends with Harry.

ONE YEAR LATER

It’s a relief when you step into your favorite little café you found last year near campus. This has been your hideaway from the busy everydays. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries hits you instantly, the little bell rings above the door upon your arrival and a smile stretches across your face without even realizing it.

It’s your first time here since the start of the semester after the summer, you had a great vacation at home with your family, but it’s also nice to be back to your usual. It’s not a popular place, pretty hidden, so you don’t have to wait in line for hours, like at the Starbucks next to Building C. There’s only one guy at the counter when you arrive, two more people at the tables with plenty of empty seats available. You’ve written several papers at these tables, drinking coffee after coffee until you finished with your eyes red, head aching, but at least you could turn them in. 

Behind the counter there’s a barista you don’t remember from last year. As you step closer you see her nametag says Sarah and she is smiling brightly at the guy in front of you as she hands him over the change that eventually ends up in a tip jar, as always. The guy moves over to wait for his drink and now it’s your turn.

“Hi, what can I get you?” she smiles warmly, her ponytail flipping around as she tilts her head to the side.

“A cappuccino please with a bit of cinnamon, on the go.”

“Alright,” she nods, pressing around on the screen in front of her. “That’ll be 3.65.”

You grab a five dollar bill from your wallet and hand it over to her.

“Keep the change.”

“Thank you,” she beams as her eyes wander down to the pin on your backpack while you put your wallet away. “Nice pin,” she chuckles and you look down at the Office pin you got last year. It’s Dwight’s head with the word ‘FALSE’ written underneath.

“Oh, thank you,” you chuckle. “You like the show too?”

“Love it and I made my boyfriend watch it with me too, he wouldn’t admit it, but he is a fan now too,” she says laughing. She seems like such a nice, genuine and open person, so you dare to further the conversation.

“Are you a new worker here? I used to come here all year last year, but I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah, I started in August. My boyfriend transferred here this year and I came with him.”

“You’re not studying?”

“No, I can’t really see myself going to college. So I’m here until I figure out what I want to do,” she shrugs smiling, it doesn’t seem like she’s bothered that she has no certain plans for her future. 

“It’s better than to study something you absolutely hate,” you agree, chuckling.

“Oh, yeah!” she smirks, nodding.

You chat with Sarah until your drink is ready and you feel like you already made a new friend. She even let you know they are having a little open mic event on Friday where people can read their poems or perform a song freely. It sounds exactly like the kind of thing you want to do on a Friday. 

Last year was a bit… hectic in terms of friends and socializing. With Izzy as your roommate she kept trying to drag you to different parties and events, she never asked if you even wanted to go or not, just expected you to follow her everywhere. At the beginning you complied, but later it became way too draining, so you made up excuses so you could ditch her plans. 

Since you engaged with Izzy and her friends in the beginning, that’s what you ended up sticking to for the rest of the school year. You don’t want to sound ungrateful, but sometimes, or maybe often, you felt like you were an outsider in their group. Now you’re thinking about maybe looking for other people to hang out with, but you don’t really know where to start and you also don’t want Izzy to get the wrong idea about it. 

As you walk through campus with your coffee in hand to get to your first class, you spot a familiar face sitting under a tree with two other guys. It seems like Harry has started to grow his hair out during the summer, his curls now reach his shoulders practically, but he is still wearing skinny jeans. 

He looks good. He always does, but it seems like he got even more handsome throughout the summer and since you haven’t seen him. After the breakup you spotted him a few times around campus and it seemed like he might have even wanted to talk to you, but you avoided him like the plague. At first because of girl code, because that’s what Izzy wanted you to do, and later it simply felt awkward. Part of you was mad at him for choosing Izzy. Even though their relationship didn’t last long, he still chose her over you and that stung. Once again, you fell second after someone else and you didn’t feel like sticking around when you were just a second choice. 

But every once in a while you think about him, how good of a friendship could have been between the two of you at least. The talk you had in that bathtub was probably the best time you had all year at a party. You think about the missed opportunity way more than you probably should, but not enough to actually approach Harry and give it another go. 

He is laughing at something when his gaze falls upon you and you see him zone out of the conversation as he watches you continue your path. You want to look away, but something is not letting, your eyes stay focused on him and he stares back at you. For a split second it seems like he is smiling in your way, but that scares you and you turn your head, fastening your steps to reach the building and flee as soon as possible.

By the time you reach the entrance your heart is hammering your chest and you swear you could feel his gaze on you the whole time. You go on with your day thinking about those few seconds while you were looking at each other, but of course, you never mention it to Izzy.

“Gamma Epsilon party on Friday night, you’re coming, right?” Izzy bursts through the door of your shared room on Wednesday, her fingers relentlessly typing away on her phone. You’re sitting on your bed with your laptop on your lap, updating the schedule you’ve put together, fixing the color coding so it looks perfectly neat.

You look up at her and almost start thinking of an excuse, only to realize you actually have plans for that day already.

“I can’t, I have plans.”

Izzy stops in her steps and looks at you with clear surprise in her eyes.

“What plans?” she asks and the disbelief is quite apparent in her tone, which is kind of hurtful, but you let it slide. As if you couldn’t have plans on your own… 

“There’s an open mic evening at Beachwood Café, I’m going there.”

“Beachwood Café? I have never heard of that place and who are you going with?”

“It’s off-campus. And I was invited by one of the new baristas, she seems pretty nice.”

“And you’d rather go there than to a party?”

“Well… yes, I guess,” you nod uncertainly, though it’s pretty obvious to you that your choice is the better one. 

The look she gives you sends a shiver down your spine and it’s not the good kind. You almost want to apologize for making plans on your own, but your rationality knows you did nothing wrong. Yet, she still has the power to make you doubt yourself. 

“Alright,” she then shrugs and acts like she doesn’t care, but the stinging feeling remains deep under your skin.

When Friday rolls around Izzy tries again a few times to get you to ditch the open mic event, but you don’t budge. There’s literally anywhere you’d rather be than at a frat party. So you put on a nice dress, do your hair and makeup the way you like the most and leave the dorm with an excitement you didn’t get to feel too often.

You’ve never been to anything like this and it’s surprising to see so many people at the café when you arrive. Usually it’s just a handful of customers lingering around, but today there are at least two dozen people taking up every tiny space in the small café.

“Oh, Y/N! Hi!” Sarah spots you from behind the counter as you step inside. You make your way through the people and greet her with a small wave.

“Hi Sarah. I didn’t think this is so popular,” you chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s a great success,” she grins winking at you. “I saved a seat for you next to my friends over there,” she says pointing to the back of the room.

“Thank you!”

“Do you want to have something to drink?”

“Maybe just a bottle of water for now.”

Sarah rings you up and once you’ve paid you make your way to the back to look for the seat. She said you’ll spot her boyfriend with his long hair and as she called it “hot Jesus look” so that’s what you’re looking for. There’s a tiny stage already set up near the counter with just one microphone and a stool and you’re curious what kind of performances you’ll see tonight. It amazes you that people just stand up in front of others and do this, you could never work up the courage to get in the center of the attention. 

Navigating your way between the tables you finally spot who you assume to be Sarah’s boyfriend and just as you’re approaching him, you see who he is sitting at the table with. 

There are three seats at the tiny table, one is empty, one is taken by Sarah’s boyfriend and the last one is taken by Harry. 

He spots you just when you see him, freezing just a few feet away from them. It seems like he’s surprised to see you, but he also doesn’t appear to be upset by your appearance, maybe even pleasant.

“Hey, you must be Y/N, right?” Sarah’s boyfriend stands, holding a hand out for you.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you nod, shaking his hand.

“I’m Mitch and this is–”

“We actually know each other,” Harry cuts in.

“Oh, really?” Mitch smiles warmly. “Well, have a seat then,” he nods towards the empty seat that is of course next to Harry.

It’s awkward. For you, at least. Sitting so close to the one person you’ve been avoiding at all cost for about a year now and now he is just right there next to you. 

You sit in silence for a while and you’re just nervously fidgeting with the bottle of water in your lap and then he is the first one to speak up. 

“At least this time we’re not meeting in a bathroom for the first time in the semester.”

You want to stay serious, but you can’t. A smile tugs on your lips and the two of you start laughing together.

“This chair is more comfortable than the bathtub, if you ask me,” you giggle under your breath.

“Definitely,” he nods grinning. “So how do you know Sarah?”

“Oh, I just come here often and we just… you know, started talking.”

“You come here often? How come I never saw you? I drop by almost every day.”

“Well, I guess we just missed each other.”

“Mm. What a shame,” he hums and you can tell there’s more behind his words. 

You stare back at him, there’s so much you want to say to him, yet nothing comes out of your mouth. You feel shame, regret and confusion, all at the same time as you look back at him, all the unsaid things hanging between the two of you. 

Clearing your throat you turn to look ahead, feeling his gaze linger on you for a few more seconds but then a man steps to the microphone and the evening starts.

Even after the performances have started, more and more people arrive until the tiny café is so full, you can’t even drop a pin. You hear poems, songs and stories, originals and covers as well and you love all of them. 

Harry seems to be enjoying them as well and you even start to discuss your favorite parts and the best thing is when you look at each other at the same time hearing something that caught your attention and you know the other one thinks the exact same thing. 

You realize just how much you missed him. It’s almost like in the bathtub all over again and it doesn’t even process that a year has passed by and so much has happened. 

When the performances are over they start to wrap up the evening, but the three of you remain sitting at the table, waiting for Sarah to finish. Mitch walks up to the counter to keep his girlfriend company while she puts the cups and glasses away, so it’s just you and Harry now.

“There was a frat party tonight, you didn’t want to go?” you ask, eyes focused on your nervously fidgeting fingers in your lap. 

“I’m not really a party person, usually end up hiding in the bathtub,” he chuckles.

“So that’s your usual? Did you end up in the bathtub with someone else too?” you ask and try to sound as unbothered as possible, ignoring the stinging pain in your chest when you think of him having the same experience with someone else.

“No,” he smiles at you softly. “Only with one person, though I didn’t see her for a long time after that.”

And you’re back at the touchy subject, but this time you feel like you can’t avoid it.

“I don’t like to be the third wheel,” you mumble, heat crawling up the sides of your neck towards your ears.

“I didn’t go out with Izzy for long, you practically vanished even after we broke up.”

“Because Izzy is my friend and you broke up with her. I couldn’t side with you.”

“Says who?” he chuckles. “Besides, it wasn’t that deep. It’s not like we dated for years, we barely had a handful of dates.”

“But you had them,” you find yourself replying, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. 

Harry stays quiet for a while and you start to think he won’t add anything, he speaks up again.

“You were mad at me for going out with Izzy?”

You didn’t expect him to question it at all and now that he hit the nail right on the head, you feel exposed, almost naked as he is looking at you with questioning eyes.

“No, I–Um… I need to go,” you blurt out and grabbing your purse you launch to rush out of the café, but Harry is quick to run after you.

“Hey, wait! Y/N, let’s talk about it!” He jumps in front of you to block your way, a hand coming to grab your arm gently. “It’s the first time you talked to me in almost a year, don’t just run away, please,” he begs and suddenly you feel ashamed of how you just acted.

“S-Sorry, I just…”

“Harry!” You hear someone call from the entrance of the café and you both turn in the direction of the voice. Mitch and Sarah are stepping out, watching you with questioning looks. Harry sighs and waves at them.

“I’m walking Y/N home, I’ll meet you later!” They just nod and head in the other direction as Harry turns to you again. “Can we please talk? I don’t want you to leave like this, let me walk you home.”

“Okay,” you whisper nodding as the two of you start walking towards your dorm. 

“So, I feel like you were mad at me for dating Izzy.”

“I was just… confused,” you say, looking for the best way to express what happened.

“About what?”

Sighing you realize you won’t be able to talk it out without giving away something.

“You didn’t seem like the type of guy who would go after a girl like Izzy. And it turned out you weren’t a match anyway, so… I don’t know, I was confused that you asked her out.”

“Okay, just to be clear, she asked me out and I thought going on a date could never hurt. It wasn’t that disastrous, but if I’m being honest I knew it from the beginning it wouldn't last long.”

“Then why did you even go into it?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, I just started college, I was open to meeting new people. Who am I to judge someone so quickly?”

You hate that his answer is rational. You can’t blame him for not being judgmental, yet you still want to be mad at him.

“Besides,” he continues, “the person I really wanted to get to know didn’t seem to be interested in me.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his and your knees almost go weak when you see the tiny smile that’s curling up the corners of his mouth. Was that a hint? Did he imply he wanted to get to know you? As if Harry could hear your questions, he continues.

“After Izzy came up to us that night you kind of stepped back. I tried to reach out, but I felt like you didn’t want to talk to me anymore, so I didn’t force it. Izzy asked me out and I figured since you two are friends it was cleared, okay by everyone, but apparently it wasn’t.”

You stop in your tracks wrapping your arms around yourself as you chew on your bottom lip. It feels like the right moment to open up, but you haven’t done much of that in your life, so you don’t know how to do it without making a fool out of yourself.

“I just… I didn’t think you’d want to spend time with me when you could be with Izzy.” Harry sighs as he looks at you with a tender gaze.

“Y/N, I had a great time with you. When you were so cold towards me, I took it as a sign that it wasn’t the same on your part.”

“It wasn’t… I had a good time with you,” you admit truthfully, which brings a smile to his lips. “I just… Izzy seemed to like you too and…”

He doesn’t force you to finish, as if he could tell that talking about it makes you anxious, but he understands everything you’re trying to say. 

“Izzy is a nice girl, but not really the type I usually hang out with.”

“Your friends from the frat seem to like her.” It slips out before you could even think about it.

“Actually, I spend more time with Mitch and Sarah and they are not at all like those guys. If you remember, I was kind of hiding from them at the party when we met.” The boyish smile definitely makes the butterflies in your stomach start dancing wildly. “Alright, let me make this clear, because I don’t want to dance around it anymore and I don’t want any misunderstanding either,” he starts and you hold your breath as you stare back at him. “I like you, Y/N. I liked you a year ago and I only went out with Izzy because you didn’t seem to be interested in me. But if you like me too, I would really love to spend more time with you. As friends, or… whatever else.”

This is new. Harry just openly told you that he is interested in you. Not in someone else, not in Izzy. You. 

For the first time you’re not second behind someone else.

He smiles at you warmly, your shocked reaction is probably quite entertaining while you’re looking for the words to say.

“Do you want to spend more time with me, Y/N?” he then asks with that boyish smirk you love so much.

“I do,” you smile shyly.

“Great,” he nods. 

He walks you back to the dorm and you catch up on everything that basically happened since the bathtub incident. School, friends, family, you feel like you’re continuing exactly from where you left it a year ago and it’s a relief that neither of you changed too much over the time. At one point he drapes his sweatshirt over your shoulders when he notices you’re feeling cold and it gets hard to focus on what he is saying when all you can smell is his sweet scent. 

“I’m really glad we met again tonight, Y/N,” he smiles at you when you finally arrive at the dorm.

“Yeah, me too,” you return the smile and start to peel off the sweatshirt he gave you, but he stops you.

“Keep it.”

“But I’m here, I won’t need it inside.”

“Let’s say it’s the leverage that we’ll meet again, so you can give it back. How about lunch sometime this week?”

“That sounds great,” you nod and the smile just widens across your face. 

“Amazing, then see you later,” he grins as he backs away and you just nod, biting into your bottom lip, but then he runs back to you and leaning down he presses a kiss to your cheek before finally turning around and leaving.

You keep smiling like an idiot as you take a shower and get ready for bed. Folding Harry’s sweatshirt neatly you put it over the back of your chair at your desk and every time you look at it your heart skips a beat. You did not expect things to take this turn, but you couldn’t be happier now. Smiling to yourself like a lovesick schoolgirl you hug your pillow as you try to get some sleep.

Izzy gets back to the room at around two in the morning. She almost trips in her shoes she left out before leaving and you wake up to her cursing in the dark.

“Sorry babe, it’s just me,” she sighs, as she starts to strip out of her clothes.

“You alright?” you ask groggily.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but you should have been there tonight! Rick jumped into the pool butt naked,” she laughs, falling onto her bed.

“Mm, sounds fun,” you reply, but it’s nowhere near genuine. You’re not interested in seeing some random fratboy butt naked and probably drunk out of his mind.

“How was your evening?”

“Great, I really liked it,” you say, a smile stretching across your face instantly. She doesn’t ask any more questions, it’s clear she’s not quite interested in how your night really was, but as she is about to get comfortable under the covers she spots the sweatshirt on the back of your chair. 

“Whose sweatshirt is that?” she asks, but her tone reveals she already knows the answer. You hesitate and at last you decide to lie.

“Sarah’s boyfriend let me borrow it, I know her from the café.”

Izzy stares at the sweatshirt for a couple of moments before she pulls the covers over herself and turns to face the wall. 

When you’re waiting for Harry at the school’s cafeteria on Tuesday, for a moment you think that he won’t come. Holding onto his sweatshirt you kept as a treasure since Friday you’re anxiously kicking around the dirt even though he is just one minute late to what you agreed on earlier.

“Hey! Sorry, Professor Hastings just loves talking,” he runs up to you and before you could even snap out of your thoughts he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“It’s alright,” you smile. “Here.” You hand him the sweatshirt and he just smiles before tucking it into his backpack.

Normally you eat with Izzy and her friends, but this time you take it away, because Harry says he knows a great spot. Behind building E there’s an old oak tree with a little bench underneath. The route behind the building is not too popular, it leads next to the trash containers, but when you reach the tree you sense nothing of it, so the bench sits unoccupied when you arrive. 

It’s like a little picnic as you pick up the conversation exactly where you left it earlier. Talking to Harry is so easy, so natural, no doubt you missed him so much after you lost contact. You truly turn into a giggling mess every time Harry compliments you or looks at you with so much adoration you never thought anyone could. 

As much as you’d like to spend the whole day like this, you need to get to your next class, so the picnic has to come to an end. Harry insists on walking you to your building, just so you can spend a little more time together. 

“So, there is this party on Saturday, I’m kinda forced to go, but I thought that maybe we could… go together?” he asks, when you reach the building. “And also, if you’re free on Friday, I would love to take you out.”

“Like, on a date?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “On a date.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, so swooned by his charm. 

“To both?” he smiles brightly. 

“Yeah, both sounds good,” you nod, chuckling lightly. 

“Great! And maybe we could have lunch together some other time this week as well.”

“You’re suddenly occupying all my free time,” you giggle, but it’s not at all a complaint. 

“I’m just that greedy,” he grins, before checking the time on his phone. “I have to run now, but I’ll text you, okay?”

“Sure,” you nod. Harry leans down and kisses your cheek before going his way and you can’t stop smiling for the next two hours.

You have lunch with Harry one more time this week and you go to the library with him too, spending more and more time together while slowly canceling plans with Izzy and her friends. 

It remains in the back of your mind that sooner or later you’ll have to come clean. You can’t hide it for long and if things turn serious with Harry, she’ll for sure find out about it. You just haven’t figured out how to present it to her.

Hey, how has your day been? Mine? Oh, it’s been great, because lately I’ve been dating your ex. Okay, see ya later!

That would be a disaster. Knowing Izzy there’s no right way to tell her, it’s certain she’ll be fuming no matter how you put it. She very much implied that none of her friends can ever get in contact with Harry after their breakup, which was seemingly pretty rough on her, although… you’re not even sure you want to be friends with her anymore… 

You didn’t miss that she’s been acting weird towards you and you’re guessing it’s because of the hoodie. She must have recognized it and she’s not stupid, she must be suspecting what’s really going on, it’s a miracle she hasn’t asked you straight in your face. Your time is ticking.

Friday afternoon you’re getting ready for your date and praying you can leave before Izzy gets back. You put on a nice dress, do your makeup and hair just the way you like it. Luckily, you get a text from Harry that he has arrived before Izzy returns so you leave in a rush, once again avoiding to face her with the truth.

He is waiting for you in front of the building next to a car you know for a fact he borrowed for the evening, wearing a pair of slacks with a funky patterned shirt tucked into it and a beaming smile on his handsome face.

“Hi,” he greets you softly, pulling out a rose from behind him and handing it to you. 

“Thank you. You look good,” you chuckle, taking the rose.

“I should have said that to you first,” he laughs as he opens the car door for you.

“Sorry,” you grin and get into the car.

You haven’t been on a date, ever in your life, so you didn’t have high expectations for tonight, but Harry has definitely fulfilled all of them. 

He takes you to a gallery where you wander around, talking about the abstract paintings and what you see in them, then comes a nice dinner and because neither of you wants the evening to end, you start walking around the neighborhood aimlessly, the conversation never really dies.

You feel like a fool for staying away from him for so long, you haven’t felt this good in such a long time and you were the only reason why it couldn’t happen earlier.

When you’ve passed the dormitory about five times you realize it might be time to say goodbye, you can’t stretch the evening any longer now. 

“Thank you for tonight, I had an amazing time, really,” you tell him as you stop by the dormitory for the final time. 

“You’re not just saying it to get rid of me, are you?”

“No,” you shake your head chuckling. “I mean it.

“Then, how about dinner tomorrow before the party? And then we can go together.”

The thought of arriving at the party with Harry reminds you that in that case you have to come clean to Izzy. Harry notices how your face falls and he thinks he said something wrong.

“We don’t have to, if it’s too fast, we can–”

“No, it’s not fast, it’s just that… I need to tell Izzy. I haven’t been able to get myself to do that.”

“You mean, about us?”

“Yeah.”

“So… there’s an us?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a wide grin stretching across his face. You get nervous right away, as if you just made a fool out of yourself.

“I-I mean, i-it’s not, I just–”

“Y/N, stop,” he chuckles and stepping closer he cups your cheek in his hand. “I’m really hoping that there is an us, if it’s still not obvious.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply as he slowly closes the gap between the two of you.

His soft lips press against yours in a gentle, patient manner, as if he is giving you a way out of it, but you’d be a fool to break away from him. So when he feels you kissing him back, he deepens it, his tongue runs along your bottom lip and you let him in without hesitation. You haven’t had many first kisses and most of them have been terrible, to put it nicely, but with Harry… He practically melts your whole being, you just want to feel as close to him as possible as you lock your arms around his neck, he is everywhere, all you can feel and sense, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A kiss never felt this way and it scares and excites you at the same time. 

You have no idea how long you stay like that, minutes or maybe hours, it could be a lifetime but even that wouldn’t be enough. Harry pulls away, but then peppers your lips with a few more tiny kisses before actually moving his head back.

“Do you want me to talk to Izzy?” he asks, his forehead resting against yours as he gently caresses your cheek with his thumb. 

“Tempting, but I think I should be the one to tell her.”

“Or we could tell her together. Tomorrow, at the party?”

“Is that the best option? I mean, shouldn’t we do it more privately?” you ask hesitantly.

“Okay, then maybe I could drop by the dorm before the party and we can tell her then.”

“I don’t think she’ll take it well,” you sigh.

“Is there anything she takes well that’s against what she wants?” he questions arching an eyebrow and he is right. Izzy has a hard time accepting it when things don’t go her way. “So, let’s ditch dinner, I’ll be here at… eight? How does that sound? And we can talk to her together.”

“Okay,” you nod, smiling weakly. Leaning down he kisses you one last time before peeling himself off of you.

“See you tomorrow then,” he winks at you before jogging back to the car he left in front of the building while you were walking. 

You told Izzy you wanted to talk to her before the party. She knew you wanted to talk, yet she is still nowhere to be found. It’s like she is purposely avoiding you.

It’s past eight, Harry is already in your room, the two of you are waiting for Izzy to show up so you could tell her what’s been happening, but she disappeared.

“She still hasn’t read my message,” you sigh, dropping your phone to the bed next to where Harry is sitting as you pace the floor relentlessly.

“Have you ever seen Izzy without her phone in her hands?” he asks and it’s a valid question. She is practically glued together with her phone 24-7, there’s no way she hasn’t seen your text.

“You think she already knows and she’s just avoiding talking about it?” you ask, chewing on your bottom lip. Harry reaches out and taking your hand he pulls you closer so you stand between his legs.

“I think that’s exactly the case. And if you ask me, she is acting like a child. Let’s just go to the party and talk to her there. We had the intention to do it privately, she didn’t want that. We can’t work everything around her all the time.”

You know he is right, but you’ve always been the kind of person who wants to please everyone. Izzy might have not been the best of friends to you this past year, but you still want the best for her no matter what.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” you nod. Reaching up he gently caresses the side of your face before pulling you in for a kiss.

You still haven’t gotten used to Harry just freely kissing you, every time he leans in and you feel his soft lips on yours your heart skips a beat, you can’t believe he wants you, that for once in your life you’re in the focus and that it’s Harry that’s so into you… it feels like a dream you never want to wake up from. 

His hands cup your hips as he brings you close against him, curling his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss, easing your nerves within just moments. Now you don’t really want to go to that party, it would be a lot nicer if you could just spend some time alone with Harry.

“Maybe, we could skip the whole party?” you suggest between kisses.

“Would love that, but I already promised I’d be there. They always tease me for being a party pooper,” he chuckles softly. “But believe me, I would rather be here with you than at a party.”

“Okay, then we are leaving early, right?” you propose.

“That sounds manageable,” he chuckles before stealing one more kiss.

You arrive at the party together, but until you talk to Izzy you keep your hands to yourselves, though both of you are dying to walk around hand in hand finally. It’s another frat party, nothing special or different from the ones you’ve been to. Drunk college students everywhere, couples making out in every possible corner and the single ones are trying to find a hookup for the night. This setting was never your cup of tea and it’s now just settling in your mind how Izzy always dragged you to these parties even though she knew you didn’t quite like them. 

Looking around you spot her outside, talking to her friends as if you weren’t waiting for her at the dorm and it gets your blood boiling. Harry follows you out to the backyard, his presence is what keeps you collected enough not to snap at Izzy when you finally reach her.

“Hi girls,” you smile around politely. “Izzy, can we please talk? I was actually waiting for you in our room, I guess you forgot.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, it totally slipped my mind,” she says, but there’s nothing genuine about it.

“Okay, so then can we talk now, please?”

She takes a sip from her drink, as if she was debating whether she wants to hear you out or not, her eyes knowingly shifting between you and Harry behind you.

“Of course,” she nods at last and the three of you move to a more secluded spot to have a tad bit of privacy. 

“I wanted to tell you before you find out from someone else, that… I’m dating Harry,” you say it calmly, hoping she won’t cause a scene, that’s the last thing you need right now. 

You didn’t entirely think through what you’d tell her and now as she is staring at you with deadly eyes, you’re looking for the right thing to say, but she speaks up first.

“You really thought you hid it well from me?” she huffs. “I knew it when I saw his hoodie on your chair that night. I’m not stupid.”

“No one thought you were,” Harry says.

“Oh, so then you just decided to backstab me, that’s fine!” she lets out a dry laugh.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Harry sighs.

“No one wanted to backstab you. It’s not how we planned, but it happened, alright? It’s nothing against you.”

“But I do think it’s something against me. You’re dating my ex, Y/N. Are you really that jealous of me?”

“I’m not jealous of you, Izzy. But honestly, you never even asked me if I liked Harry when you started dating him! You just assumed you were more of his type than I am and pushed me aside!”

Clearly, Izzy is surprised that for once, you’re standing up for yourself, because the stunned look on her face is something you haven’t seen often. It’s like you just solved a puzzle you’ve been struggling to finish for a year.

Izzy was never really your friend. She saw you more like a charity project, to look better next to you and she couldn’t put up with Harry being interested in you rather than her so she did everything she could to keep you away from him. But not that she failed, she is trying to make you feel guilty, but it’s not gonna work. 

“I will be requesting to change rooms. It’s better if we just keep our distance from each other. I’m sorry this is how it turned out to be,” you say, truly disappointed it had to take such a bitter turn. 

“Whatever, Y/N. I’m not wasting my time on you two, I have better things to do,” she spats and walks away. One year of friendship down the drain just like that. 

“You did good,” Harry speaks up and turning around you can feel yourself easing up from the tension as you look at him. “Maybe she will come around in time. Or not, it doesn’t matter,” he chuckles as he pulls you closer by your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I would really like to leave though,” you sigh.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he agrees, not even caring about what his friends will say about his early departure.

You were done there, in every possible sense.

TWO YEARS LATER

“Thank you for your attention, it’s been a pleasure to teach you this semester and I wish the best for all of you in starting your career!”

Professor Turner smiles as he finishes the very last class you have as a college student. A round of applause washes over the room before everyone starts packing up and leaves the auditorium for the last time.

“I’ll see you at the graduation ceremony, right?” Claudia smiles at you, swinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Yes! We need to take a picture together!” you beam at her.

These past two years you’ve made some great friends and Claudia is one of them. You had several classes together and bonded over a group project. After your initial fallout with Izzy, you were afraid you’d be on your own, but making friends turned out to be easier when you were looking at the right places. 

And besides that, you wouldn’t have been alone. You had your amazing boyfriend.

As you walk out of the building you spot Harry by the same bench he has waited for you after Professor Turner’s class all semester. He is reading a book, but as if he had a sixth sense, he looks up when you walk down the stairs and slips his book back into his backpack before standing up and walking towards you smiling as he meets you halfway. 

He curls his arms around your waist and sweeps you up from the ground while kissing you, making you laugh against his lips with his enthusiasm about seeing you again, even though you parted ways just a few hours ago.

“Hi,” you smile when your feet touch the ground again and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“How does it feel to be free from school?” he asks, taking your hand as the two of you start walking back to the tiny apartment you’ve been renting for the past year. 

You stayed in the dorm after you switched rooms and left Izzy, but you felt like you could use some privacy for the last two semesters, especially because Harry was living with two of his friends and there was basically no place where you could be alone. Now Harry spends more time at your place than at his, so it’s almost as if you’re living together, but you have nothing against the idea. You’re planning to move in together soon, it’s been your trial for the official thing.

“I’m not free and you aren’t either,” you chuckle. “We still have our thesis defenses and graduation.”

“Those are nothing, we’re practically free,” he smirks, giving your hand a playful squeeze. 

If only you knew that the guy you sat with in a bathtub in freshman year would turn out to be the person you love the most… 

Harry is talking your ears off, trying to convince you to go to the movies on the weekend when you turn a corner and almost bump right into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, only realizing that it’s Izzy you almost walked right into. 

She seems just as surprised to be facing you as you are to see her this close again. Following that party you only met a handful of times until you eventually switched rooms with a freshman. It’s been radio silence since then.

“Hi,” she breathes out and unlike the last time you faced her, there’s no sign of anger on her face as her gaze switches back and forth between you and Harry and then it slips down at your intertwined fingers. 

“Hey,” you say softly and you hear Harry mumbling the same.

It’s awkward, how the three of you are now facing each other after being silent for most of your time in college. You would be lying if you said you never thought about making up with Izzy since your fall-out, but the thought never turned into an act. 

“Um, see you guys at the graduation,” she breathes out, a nervous smile flashes through her face.

“Yeah,” you nod and return the smile with a genuine one. 

You can feel there’s something hanging in the air, something unsaid that’s been there for way longer than what feels comfortable and as the moments pass by you start to realize that it won’t be addressed this time either.

With a round of awkward nods everyone moves on and keeps walking, but then for your surprise, Izzy calls after the two of you.

“Y/N, Harry, wait!”

Turning around she is right there in front of you and she takes a deep breath before speaking up. 

“I just… I wanted to apologize. For how things happened… Between us.”

Looking away she tugs her hair behind her ears and then continues.

“I acted horrible. Like a… Like a child,” she chuckles. “I was jealous, there’s no doubt and not just because… it bothered me that Harry chose someone else who was not me.”

She attempts a smile in Harry’s way who is curiously listening to her talking while holding your hand, his thumb grazing your knuckles nonstop.

“I was not used to things not going the way I wanted them to and I never had that kind of instant connection you guys had… have. So, I’m really sorry for… well, for everything, basically.”

That was unexpected. But in the best way possible. You can tell she meant every single word and the Izzy standing in front of you is not the same girl you shared a room with. She has grown a lot and it looks good on her.

“I guess I’m sorry too,” you say. “I should have told you straight in the beginning that I liked Harry, so we wouldn’t have gotten into this whole situation.”

“Knowing who I was then, I would have still tried to take him,” she chuckles, but then her face falls, realizing this might come out wrong, but you laugh, knowing well what she meant.

“Maybe,” you shrug. 

“Anyways, I’m happy you guys are still together,” she smiles. “Good luck for whatever you are planning after school.”

“Thanks,” Harry finally speaks up and pulling you closer he kisses the crown of your head.

“Good luck to you too, Izzy,” you tell her and genuinely mean it.

With one last nod you all turn around and part way.

“Well, I did not expect that,” Harry admits, when Izzy can’t hear you anymore.

“Right? But… It was very nice of her.”

“Mhm, at least the reunion won’t be that awkward this way when we show up.”

You bite into your bottom lip as you peek up at him.

“So, we’ll still be together at our reunion?”

“Of course,” he smirks at you confidently. “Married, with a dozen kids.”

“Harry, that’s biologically impossible to have a dozen kids by then,” you laugh, smacking his chest playfully.

“Okay, then just… half a dozen,” he grins, curling his arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[evieelyzabethh]

Sugar and Spike

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: after a night of patrol goes wrong, Spike starts noticing some changes in himself, mainly that Buffy's sweetest friend won't leave his mind and that she would never look at him the same if she knew what he wanted to do to her.

warnings: smut!!! a smidge of yandereness, kinda a sex or die fic, possessive spike, handjob, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), praise kink, biting/marking (mentions of blood), a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, riding, fingering, veryyy little plot, and I think thats about it.

In hindsight, they should've kept a better eye on him. It was an odd night of patrolling, the usual gaggle of vampires being a demon or two this time around. Big tall thing that appeared out of nowhere and left as soon as it came. Spike, always with little regard for the consequences of his actions, ran right in. Ran so hard he went right through the demon as it went into smoke. He breathed it in before going into a coughing fit, as if he could feel it in his nose and lungs, spreading in his chest like a vine that pulled everything impossible tight before releasing him like he was never in its grasp . Red flag one.

It fell on him like rain, some clumping into what looked like pink sparkles in his hair, on his jacket, his worn boots. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away expecting to see it gunked together, but there was nothing there. It felt like his hair had been hit by my mist, slightly damp and cool. It seeped into his exposed skin, adhering itself into a pink sheen which also disappeared after only a few minutes. He remembered trying to brush it off, expecting it to feel wet but it was just slick. It was admittedly infuriating, especially since the feeling wouldn't go away. Red flag two.

“Buffy!” He shouted, rubbing his hands on his jeans as if it was going to wipe away the phantom feeling, but his complaints were met with apathy. 

“There’s nothing there, Spike.” A groan bubbled in his chest. 

“Astute observation, Slayer, but it feels like something’s there.” You were there beside him, something that would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been hit with your scent as your fingers brushed against his hand. He pulled away quickly out of instinct, not as subtle as he would’ve liked to because you noticed and scampered off in between Buffy and Giles. The distance between you and him got larger and the two of you talked about a mall trip you had planned and Willow was the only one to stick with him. She humored him, allowing him to shower at her place and taking a sample of skin only to find nothing. No residue, nothing abnormal, nothing had changed at all. Red flag three.

But he was sure it was fine. Nothing had really changed. You had been a bit cautious though.

You were prone to worrying, and he couldn't blame you. There was a lot to worry about when your best friends hunted demons and one of them was a literal creature of the night. You worried about Buffy so much he genuinely feared you would collapse from all the stress you put yourself under. Pursuing a nursing degree so they could avoid hospital visits unless absolutely necessary because none of you had the money. Having him train you in basic self-defense because you hated feeling like dead weight. You took up Latin and all of the other dead languages in those old dusty books just so you could be useful. You tied yourself in knots just to be sweet. God, you were so sweet. Even to your own detriment, like pure sugar that was going to rot his teeth eventually.

The more time you spent together, the more the rot seemed to take his brain than his teeth. His mouth never got anywhere near you; Buffy made sure of that. He wished he could say it was because she was babying you too much, that you were also tired of Buffy making Spike seem like the biggest mistake you could ever make. To be fair, he hardly knew you. He knew of you; he knew of the pink wardrobe and the fluffy socks and the pretty shoes. He knew of you as Buffy's cute neighbor who stopped by so often that you might as well live with them. You weren't being a baby, you were being cautious, even more now. He almost wished you didn't believe him as much as you did, maybe you'd keep visiting him. He hadn't seen you in days and it was really starting to take a toll on him. His leg bounced and he got in the bad habit of biting his nails, which was starting to get annoying with how often he had to repaint them.

If you were here, you would repaint them. You would sit your pretty self on his busted couch, and you'd have a little bag with you with all your pins and charms that jingled like the earrings that dangle from your ears. In your bag would be at least three shades of pink, a range of blacks and greys, and a wild card or two, maybe a blue or a green. You'd let him pick his color, despite knowing he always went for black. You asked anyway, just in case he decided to go with pink just to humor you. Had you walked through right now, he would've obliged. He would've done anything you asked him too. It wasn't even that he was lonely, but it was getting to suffocate in here. It was getting hot, like a fire was spreading. Each breath felt smoke filled, his skin was on fire, his skin was getting damp, like the dust had fallen again. His hand was shaky as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, surely the smell would break him out of what had to be a daze.

If you were here, you'd make a joke about him needing to air the place out. He'd probably open the door and call that enough air, but he liked his privacy, and he didn't like the idea of anyone just being able to waltz right in. You would want to make a joke about no one wanting to visit him, but you’d bite your tongue at the fear of being too harsh. You always got that look in your eye when you thought something that could be misconstrued as mean. You took your lip into your teeth and your pretty eyelashes flitted and you looked away. He thought about what it would be like to bite your lips, wanting to see what they looked like, all red and even prettier than they were before. Just a taste, that's all he wanted, a taste.

He got up to open up the door only for that phantom feeling to return. All over his body, it felt like he had stepped out into the sun, like every molecule that made up his body was vibrating and mere seconds from combusting. His breathing got ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his brain going into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would make it go away, but even from behind his eyelids, you were there. The idea of you, your smile, your laughter, fuck the very way you said his name. It sounded so nice coming from you. 

The way you said it when he got injured in a fight when you would patch up his wounds and have a bag of blood for him to replace what he lost. “Spike.” you would say. Like he should’ve known better than to just throw himself into danger. Not even bothering to consider the possibility that he did it to look heroic, or maybe in your care with your hands over his chest. There’s no reason for him to be this beaten and bruised from some baby vamp; William the Bloody. Spike? He had pride, but not as much as Angelus. It was easily quenched by the fact that he was in no way losing with your delicate hands tracing over faded scars on his chest and feeding him blood while they were just dust. 

“Spike.” Buffy would say, her tone laced with less concern and more disapproval. She knew something was up. After all they had gone through together, vampires should’ve been nothing for him. He had to space out his “fuck ups” just to get her off his back, just to get her voice out of his head. She didn’t say his name like you did. 

There wasn’t much better than how you said his name when it was just the two of you. Being together in his crypt, sometimes in your own bedroom which you had invited him into much to Buffy’s chagrin. “It’s Spike,” you had said, “how many times have we saved the world with him? I think he’s earned it.” It sent shivers down his spine. He would’ve saved the world so much sooner if it meant being able to be in your space. If it meant getting to hear you say his name through fits of laughter, trying to regain your breath while still finding enough to utter his name. “Spike.” you said, your hand over his while you giggled. He felt that heat now, felt the heat of all your touches culminating right now. All over his skin, tensing his muscles, holding his chest as he fought for breath himself. 

While he had the chance, he should’ve raided your underwear drawer. Now he was left to fist his dick with just the memory of you. You wouldn’t notice a pair or two gone, surely you wouldn’t. It was the type of small thing you would overlook because really what is a pair or two. You wouldn’t want him to be in pain, hearing his situation now, you’d feel like it was all your fault. The least you could spare was a pair of your prettiest panties for him to wrap around his cock while he fisted himself to the thought of you and how you would say his name now. 

The closest he’d gotten would be after a big battle. You had taken a beating, by the time you had gotten to a safe space you had lost a dangerous amount of blood, but the sounds that came out of your mouth were so delicious. And you trusted him to carry you to safety, your bloody hand wrapping itself around his bicep to maintain some tether to consciousness. “Spike.” your voice dripping with pain, but even that wasn’t enough to mask how pretty you sounded. He felt bad then for how hard it got him, but there is such a thin line between   pain and pleasure. The only difference now would be circumstance, and he would never hurt you. This would be good for you, the both of you, you just had to let him. You just had to say his name. 

“Spike?” In that moment, he knew there had to be some high power looking out for him when he heard your voice. Dream-like, and soft, like the wind could have blown it out and away from your lips. “Spike?!” you said again. He couldn’t tell if it was his shred of restraint or his body’s unwillingness to listen to his brain that kept him glued to his couch. 

“Now really isn’t a good time, love.” He tried to keep his voice level, he really did, but it was too much. And you weren’t stupid, he heard the heels of your shoes against the hard floor and smelt you before he even saw you. And fuck you smelt heavenly. 

“Are you okay? What happened-” You looked like you had a halo above your head, or maybe he was much further gone than he had thought. You cut yourself off in shock. When you had walked in, you hadn’t expected to catch Spike with his hands down his pants. 

“You know what, I’m just gonna go a-and come back later.” You tried to smile in an attempt to make the situation less awkward than it needed to be, but he grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Wait-I just need-fuck. I just need you to stay for a bit. I don’t feel good.” Your eyes met and you saw the sheen of what you assumed to be sweat covering his chest and face. His pupils blown out, his hair out of place, his labored breathing, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Oddly enough, the sheen had a pink tinge, and despite the fact that his fangs were protruding, his vampire face hadn’t appeared. You reached out to touch his forehead to surprisingly find a temperature. He groaned at the contact, both wanting to melt into your skin and like it physically pained him. 

“What happened?” He declined the answer, instead pushing his head more into the palm of your hand, tipping his head to sniff the inside of your wrist. “What are you doing?” You tried to pull away and put some distance in between the two of you, but he pulled you back, even closer than before. 

“You smell so good.” He nosed his way past your wrist and up your arm till he made it to your collarbone, trying to find where he could hear your blood pump the loudest. “Stop it!” you pushed against him as soon as you felt the tip of his fangs attempting to break skin. To both of your surprise, he let you. It looked like it pained him to do so, his eyes screwed shut and his hand gripping the arm of his couch until the wood snapped. 

“If this is about the demon thing, I’m gonna go get Willow, okay? You just need to stay right here.” The authority you had laced in your voice was cute. 

“Just stay here with me, yeah? There’s no need to get Willow. We don’t need Willow.” His voice had dropped an octave, his pupils blown and his brain damn near empty. Anything went in one ear then out the other as he held your hands in his, staring through you as if daring you to defy him. 

“Spike, you aren’t well.” You had tried to reason, but all he heard was that you weren’t saying no because you didn’t want this. You were concerned for his well being, even when he had you pinned down and his teeth at your neck, each breath moving you closer to him drawing blood, you were saying no because you were concerned he didn’t want this. You somehow thought he didn’t want you. 

“I’ve never felt better, baby.”, he said-practically fucking growled. Hell if he wanted you, he needed you. He pressed himself into you, his hands grabbing at anything he could to ground himself, his left at the base of your scalp and his right bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hands. He breathed into your neck, nipping and nicking at bare skin then soothing it with his tongue and kisses. He worked himself up over you, taking and taking until he was drunk, his tongue lolled out as he put his head on your chest.“Can I fuck you.” 

You had been caught in a daze yourself, his words had barely registered. You had more sense than he did at this point, finding enough resolve to shake your head. “Please.” he begged, groaning it out through clenched teeth. “I need you to make it feel better, please God just make it feel better.” He had pushed his hips into your hand, his weeping cock leaking onto you, pleading with you to touch it. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear, just be my sweet girl, yeah? Just make it better.”

You experimentally rubbed the tip, and he whimpered. His hand grabbing your wrist so fast a look of shock flashed across his face. You took that as a sign to pull away but he put your hand back around him, pushing your hand up and down his base. “Too much too quick, love.” 

Any hesitancy you had was swallowed as he smashed his lips into yours. It was urgent and quick, almost bruising how hard he kissed and held you as if you were going to disappear at any point. He tugged at a handful of hair, catching you in a moan that he used to force tongue into your mouth, sucking it as you pumped his dick at a painfully slow pace. 

His kisses made you breathless, and it was then you realized that he likely forgot in his haze that you actually needed air. He moaned into your lips, the sound spreading throughout your body and shaking you to your core. It wasn’t lost on him how damp your underwear had gotten, had he had the strength to pull away to touch you he would, but the mere seconds his skin would be off yours was enough of a deterrent to keep him in place. 

You tried to move away, but his hand kept you in place. “Don’t move.”, he rushed it out, a tone that otherwise would’ve been more commanding had he not been weak himself. “Keep going.” His hips bucked and stuttered, his movements becoming erratic the more faint your touches became. Like it was a warning; let me up for air and I’ll keep touching you. He whined at the thought of you pulling away. That wasn’t fair. 

His lips parted from yours, settling for the corner of your mouth before moving to your jawline to your neck, then just under your ear. You gasped for breath, you numb with the ecstasy of air and the feeling of his rushed kisses. He was getting close. Your hand was covered in his sticky pre-cum, his cock even more so as your hand moved alone over him, his own hand now grabbing at your shirt at the feeling. You squeezed at the bass, a motion he clearly enjoyed with how his body tensed up. A series of obscenities flowed from his pretty lips as he came, spurts of his cum getting over your pretty pink skirt, an image Spike would get himself off to later. 

You didn’t get long to sit in what just happened when he was on you again, laying you on your back and ripping your skirt clean off. You moaned something that sounded like “My skirt!��, but neither one of you were really worried about it. 

His lithe fingers were quick, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, while he kissed up to where you wanted him excruciatingly slow. His hands rubbed and teased at the soft skin of your thighs, marking bruises everywhere he went. 

He moaned into you, sniffing you once again, before finding a place he wanted to dig his fangs into. Maybe it was how delicately he stuck in his teeth, maybe it was the lust blown fervor, but it didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated. In fact, you moaned at the intrusion, unable to know what to do with yourself as he sucked and lapped up the blood he had drawn. Your fingers wove into his hair, as if he could be pulled any closer to you than he already was. “You taste so good. So good.” And he let you know as such. The obscene noises that flew from the both of you, the slurping and whines, the pop of his lips as he traveled from one spot to another. But that’s not how he intended to eat you whole.

You were unbelievably wet, soaking through your panties and even Spikes fingers before he took pity on you and decided to pull them aside and plant his fingers into you. Now, you weren’t a virgin, but you had never had sex that felt as good as this. Never had someone in you that had hundreds of years of practice beforehand. 

“You’re doing so good, Sweet Girl. So good, can’t get enough of you.” What was an attempt to calm your nerves, had you keening and over the moon, the praise bringing tears to your eyes as you ground yourself in his hand. That didn’t move him along any quicker, his tongue still collecting anything you would give him like he hadn’t been fed in years. 

“Spike!” You called out, which finally seemed to get his attention. He saw the glass-like look your eyes had taken and the pout on your face. You looked like you were about to cry. Poor thing, so desperate. He said he’d take care of you, make you feel good. No point in denying the inevitable. 

You whined when he pulled out of you just to choke when he began to devour you. His nose at your clit and his tongue plunging into. “Thank you.” he muttered into you, like this was some divine gift to him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The combination of his praise and how good he was giving it to you made that coil in your belly tighten and tighten until it threatened to snap. And he just kept going. Completely in his own world, the only thoughts in his mind being about you, how you smelled, how you tasted, god you were so good to him. Letting him eat you out like this, helping him like this. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his girl. His sweet girl. No one else's, you couldn’t be anyone else's after this. His grip tightened around your thighs at the very thought. “Mine.” he said, the vibrations hitting your core deliciously. “Mine.”

“Yours Spike, all yours.” He hummed in approval, inserting two fingers back into you while he kept up his electric pace. He held your hand as it began to be too much, your back arching off the couch and your thighs closing around his head as he just kept going. You called his name as you came, high and higher until it became too heavy on your mouth and you couldn’t say anything at all. The grip you had on his hand had loosened, but he hadn’t let up. He still rambled into you, “Again. Again. Again. Please.”

You didn’t know if your hips were bucking into him or try to wiggle away from him. Either way, both attempts were unsuccessful. With how hard he pulled on your panties they had snapped and had been thrown to the side for the simple crime of being in his way. His forearm lay on your hip keeping you in place. Your hand still laid in his, him squeezing it as if it was any comfort from the inescapable feeling of his tongue licking your thoroughly soaked pussy. 

Your toes curled in your frilly socks as you came again on his tongue, and you foolishly expected that to be enough. You would’ve asked him to stop if you could pant out anything more than whines. You would’ve pushed him away if you could manage anything more than weak taps on his forearm. “No more.” you whispered out. “Can’t.” His fingers rubbed your hand as some form of encouragement. 

“Yes you can, love.” You shook your head weakly, scooting your hips back only for him to swiftly smack your pussy. You preened on the contact, and he drank in the arousal that gushed out just from that. “My sweet girl isn’t gonna disappoint me, is she? She’s gonna make me all better, isn’t that right?” Your brain was so fogged out you couldn’t even produce a response. You just groaned and squirmed, unable to brace for impact when he smacked you again. 

“Spike!” You cried out, but he didn’t care. Heknew you were feeling good from how much you gushed while he tongue fucked your cunt. It was just a bit too much for you right now. You would feel better, you just needed to let go some more. He tried to relax you, tried rubbing mindless shapes on your skin to calm you down as he worked you through your third orgasm, but you just heaved. Your tits bounced with how heavily you breathed, and yet after all of that, he still didn’t feel better. Why didn’t he feel better?

Despite the relief that came from him pausing his abuse, you still whined as he sat up from behind your legs. With your taste still on his tongue, he kissed you. You sighed into him, the feeling of his large hands moving from your hip to under your shirt to touch your tummy and rip your bra in half. You didn’t even notice him moving you into his lap and setting your thighs on either side of him so you straddled him. He thumbed your nipples, pinching and rubbing over them while he relished in the feeling of you cunt so close to his dick. 

You didn’t seem to catch on either as he slid in between your folds, too lost of him finally kissing you again. You moaned into this kiss as his fingers dipped to toy with your clit before he whispered in your ear. “Just one more.”

In one fluid motion, he slipped his dick into his cunt, catching you as your limbs went weak. He was so big you felt your eyes water with the pressure of him being in you. You could tell he was struggling to stay still, but the haze had worn off enough for him to regain some sense. He still waited eagerly for you to adjust, brushing the fallen tears from your eyes and kissing your checks to make it all better.

“Too big. It’s too big.” You stuttered. It was all you could manage to mutter out. He cooed at you, his dick growing harder than he thought possible at the feeling of it all and the praise. 

“I was made for you, Pretty Girl, you can take it.” You yelped as he jerked his hips into yours, but he just couldn’t help it. You were so pretty like this, all fucked out and dumb. Not a thought behind those eyes of yours and the only thoughts he was capable of was you. How warm you were, how wet you were, how tight you were. You were squeezing him and  milking him dry and as much as he tried he just couldn’t stop him self from fucking into you. 

“I’m sorry.” and he meant it. You weren’t ready and he couldn’t even tell if he was ready, his body had a mind of his own and he felt himself just slipping into the feeling of being enveloped by you. “Just too good. You’re too good. My good girl. You’re gonna take all I give you, aren’t you, love? You gonna be my sweet girl and take it?” His voice was breathy and low and impossibly hot. 

All you could manage was a soft ‘mhm’ as you took him in. It wasn’t like you had any other choice as you bounced on his cock, gripping at his chest and taking in each moan you earned as you drew blood from your scratches. 

You felt every inch of him, felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix and kept pounding at it like it was his job;  like he would die if he didn’t. You can’t do anything but take it as you screw your eyes shut and just try to breathe as everything in your body fights to hold on to some feeling. It was impossible to think, not when Spike’s hands were all over you and his touch was so incredibly hot. Even stranger, a pink glow began to emanate from him, that or you were closer to passing out than you originally thought. . 

He kept you close to his chest as you both chased your impending highs together, your lips meeting in the middle as you moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and he was a goner, rambling like a mad man in your ear, thanking you endlessly for something he couldn’t put his hands on. Maybe it was your release, that you felt coming like a truck. He squeezed at the fat of your hips, pulling you even closer until neither one of you could tell where the other started and ended and you came like that, so close that you were almost suffocating, but a different kind from before. 

He came not long after you, his dick still inside spurting his cum inside you and keeping it in there with little intention of coming out any time soon. That pink glow had faded from before, fading away until there was nothing there and the slight pink tinge from before was gone too. His eyes drooped a bit, his blue irises that you hadn’t realized you had missed finally reappeared, his pupils returning to normal and his fangs retracting. 

He hung his head in your neck and you felt his temperature drop a bit, no longer boiling hot. He refused to move his head from his spot though. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was ashamed of what just happened. 

After the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, he removed himself from inside you, stalking off to find something to wear now that your outfit was completely ruined. He even had the decency to turn around while you changed, granted he had a hard time looking at you anyway. 

“You’re gonna wanna deep clean that couch.” You said to break the silence. You were surprised you got a chuckle out of him. 

“Yeah. I don’t normally do this sort of thing on there.” Another moment of silence passed between the two of you.

“You know, we can go back to my place and I can fix your nails. I can tell you’ve been biting at them.” He didn’t need to be told twice either. The place still stunk of sex and his head was feeling clearer than it had in days, he couldn’t stand to be there right now.

“About all of this…you won’t tell Buffy, right?” You giggled. 

“Not if you don’t.” And that was more than enough for him.

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[justlemmeadoreyou]

Can I request for an blurb?? Never requested to anyone but I have this idea!!

So like H nd reader is in a relationship but H being famous nd all so because of that media nd his fans doesn't know he is in relationship nd to hide that thing he had to do PR relationship with someone else!! Nd he doesn't acknowledge that he had being ignoring reader nd spending more time with that pr girl!! So one day H came home nd reader was crying nd saying to H "do you love me?? Nd saying please don't leave me" nd H assure her she is it nd in few months he proposed the reader by saying how she is the only girl for him nd to never doubt his love for her!!

Ahh so sorry for such a lengthy request!! Nd it's okay if you don't wanna write!!:)

words: 4k (sorry!!!)

warnings: angst, lots of it. a fake pr, crying, some smut too. happy ending.

i changed this a bit, especially the ending. hope you don't hate this!

***

"I miss you," you whispered into the dark emptiness of your bedroom, clutching Harry's pillow tight. Another restless night alone while he was off being pictured with that pretty model for their fake relationship.

When would this torment end? Your heart ached constantly from the secrecy and lies shredding your real romance with Harry. All you wanted was to be open about your love...

It had started off so blissfully a year ago when you literally crashed into Harry outside of a coffee shop. You'd been rushing out the door, distracted and clumsy as always, when you rammed straight into a solid wall of human. Your face went bright red as you scrambled to pick up your scattered belongings.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I'm such a disaster, I seriously need to watch where I'm going..." you babbled, finally looking up into the kindest pair of green eyes you'd ever seen.

The man was watching you with an amused tilt to his soft lips. Something about his tousled chestnut hair and casual style felt vaguely familiar, though you couldn't quite place him. 

"No worries at all, it's my fault. Are you alright?" He asked in a deep, sumptuous voice that made you shiver.

As realization dawned, your mortified expression deepened. "Oh wow...you're...I just headbutted Harry Styles in the stomach."

He laughed easily, dimples flashing as he bent to help gather your dropped papers. "Very impressive ab attack there. Been taking self-defense classes?"

You flushed again at his playful teasing, finding yourself surprisingly flustered by this international superstar's carefree charm. Most celebrities seemed to carry an air of inflated ego, but Harry radiated a humble warmth.

"Do you, er, come to this cafe often?" He asked curiously as you both stood. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly, you shook your head. "No, I don't. I was just stopping in for a coffee on my way to work."

"I see." His gem-green eyes slowly traced over your features, as if admiring a fine work of art. The intensity of his gaze sent a tendril of heated awareness washing through you.

Before you could think better of it, you blurted out the first thing on your mind. "Would you...maybe want to get coffee? With me, I mean? Right now?"

Harry's full lips curved in an amused smile. "I'd love that, actually."

You could scarcely believe this was reality as you led him back inside the cafe, trying not to visibly swoon at the casual brush of his fingertips against the small of your back. For the next hour you talked and laughed more freely than you had in ages, feeling utterly intoxicated by Harry's mere presence. Everything about him radiated authenticity and vulnerability, a creative wildness simmering beneath his polished exterior. You felt like you could be yourself with him instead of carefully cultivating persona upon persona as you did with most people.

By the time you forced yourself to reluctantly leave for work, exchanging numbers with Harry, you were positively giddy. Dancing through your day in a euphoric bubble, you hardly noticed the pitying looks from coworkers.

"You know he's just gonna ghost you, right?" Julie the receptionist said flatly when you told her about your morning coffee date. "Have you seen how many girls fall all over themselves trying to get Harry Styles' attention? You're out of your league, sweetie."

You frowned at her harsh dose of reality. As if you weren't well aware of your lack of impressiveness compared to supermodels and actresses in Harry's orbit. Still, you couldn't shake the magnetic connection you'd felt with him, the bone-deep certainty that he was someone truly special. 

Much to everyone's shock, Harry didn't ghost you. In fact, a simple text from him that evening asking how your day was led to a rapid-fire exchange of messages stretching long into the night. Over the next few weeks, your life revolved around hushed phone calls, secret rendezvous at out-of-the-way cafes and restaurants, and marathon conversations revealing every layer of one another.

Harry was purely intoxicating - a whirlwind of brooding intensity balanced with vivid spontaneity and an excellent sense of humor. He seemed utterly fascinated by every small detail you revealed about your life, respectful in a way that made him feel like a wonderful dream. And you fell harder and harder for Harry with each passing day. Something about his quiet attentiveness and insatiable curiosity about you made you feel cherished in a way you'd never experienced before. Gone were the shallow, vapid interactions you were accustomed to in the dating world. With Harry, you could truly be yourself - he somehow coaxed out your authentic self that you typically kept heavily guarded. 

At the same time, you were in absolute awe of the whirlwind of depth and experiences that defined Harry's life. His stories of touring the globe, writing deeply personal lyrics, collaborating with musical icons - they all painted a vivid portrait of an artistic soul soaring to brilliant creative heights. You drank in every glimpse into his inner world like a lifeline to another realm of existence.

Yet whenever you'd express feeling unworthy of his profound love and admiration, Harry was quick to sweetly rebuff you.

"Y/N, you dazzle me more than anything I've experienced in this mad career of mine," he insisted one evening over a cozy home-cooked meal you'd prepared. Catching your hand across the table, his green gaze pinned you in place. "Don't you see? Your warmth, your light, your way of finding detailed beauty in such seemingly ordinary moments - that's what enchants me. You make me want to shed all the superficial trappings of fame and just...be."

You felt yourself falling deeper and deeper, tumbling into an intimacy more profound than you'd ever imagined. If Harry hadn't told you himself that he'd only had a few relatively tame celebrity girlfriends in the past, you'd never have believed his immense experience from the way he worshiped you.

"So responsive, so gorgeous," he rasped against your swollen lips, calloused fingers stroking delirious patterns over your sensitized skin. "God, I could spend eternity between your legs”

Those stolen passionate encounters, tangled up and gasping one another's names with wild abandon, only added to your lovestruck infatuation. You felt deeply seen and cherished on a soul level, like you were both puzzle pieces finally slotting seamlessly together.

In the dreamy, lust-addled haze of new love, you almost didn't notice the growing tension in Harry's manner as typical relationship pressures began encroaching. Paparazzi grew increasingly aggressive in tracking his day-to-day movements whenever out in public. Well-meaning friends expressed concerns about the obvious strain he was under from lack of a romantic life in the public eye. And perhaps most troubling, his management team forcefully "suggested" it was time for him to embark on a high-profile PR romance to capitalize on album promotion and touring.

Harry had looked utterly fed up that evening when he broke the news, pacing in your living room.

You watched him apprehensively. "They want you to do...what? You mean...go along with a staged relationship? Like have a beard or something?"

"No! Absolutely not, I won't do it. I won't treat you like some secret, and I refuse to fake anything in my private life for publicity."

"Harry..." you tried to soothe him, rising to your feet and rubbing his tense shoulders. "I understand the pressures you're under-"

"No, you don't!" He rounded on you with surprising intensity. "You don't get it, Y/N. You are the best, most precious thing in my world - my safe harbor from all the bullshit fake expectations. I won't sully what we have with PR lies. I just...won't."

His words were at once incredibly romantic and terribly naive. As much as you longed to stay cocooned in the warm, intimate bubble of your relationship, you knew the real world would inevitably intrude. Harry was a public figure on a massive scale, his romantic life constantly scrutinized. For the sake of his livelihood, he might not have any choice but to bend to the publicity machine's demands.

***

Those first seeds of conflict only blossomed further over the following weeks as the PR relationship issue remained unresolved. You did your best to stay supportive and understanding, but it was a challenge keeping your own hurt and insecurities at bay.

"I just don't see what the big deal is," Harry groused one evening over a tense dinner. "So what if they want me to go out a few times with some model or actress, let the paps get pictures? It doesn't mean anything to me."

You poked at your food sullenly. "It's not that simple though, is it? Couldn't something like that, even if fake, seriously complicate things for us?"

He reached across to squeeze your hand. "Baby, you know you're the only person who matters to me. A little PR sham doesn't change how utterly mad I am about you."

But it did change things, whether Harry wanted to admit it or not. The striking difference in how he treated you, his real partner behind closed doors, compared to how he'd have to pretend with someone else for public consumption - it stung deep.

One night shortly after, you were cuddled up watching a movie when Harry's phone started incessantly buzzing. Pulling it out with a furrow in his brow, he quickly scanned a series of messages and emailed photos. An unmistakable look of chagrin crossed his face.

"What is it?" You asked, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping. "Looks like the publicity team is really pushing ahead. They've, uh, they've arranged for me to be caught having dinner with Kendall Jenner tomorrow night."

Your heart plummeted as an uneasy feeling settled over you. This was really happening - right before your eyes, your private intimacy was being infiltrated with PR lies.

"So you're...going to be going out with her? In public, on a fake date, while the whole world watches?" You tried and failed to keep the hurt out of your voice.

"Not a date!" Harry was quick to insist, shifting closer to pull you into his arms. "Y/N, you have to understand this doesn't mean anything. It's all just smoke and mirrors, love. You're my world, I promise."

You wanted so desperately to believe him. But the lingering ache still took root somewhere deep inside as you watched the paparazzi frenzy ignite over Harry's "outing" with Kendall. Photos of the two models laughing intimately over drinks and dinner plastered every gossip rag and website for weeks. 

It soon became a narrative that followed Harry everywhere - probing reporters shouting questions about whether he and Kendall were officially an item now. Rabid fans prying him online, trying to get every new shred of detail on the new, perfect couple.

"Hey, come here," Harry murmured soothingly whenever he saw the sadness and uncertainty cloud your eyes. He'd pull you into his chest, peppering kisses over your face. "I'm yours, baby, only yours. None of that bloody circus matters to me, I hope you know that."

You wanted to have his quiet confidence, truly. The way Harry could compartmentalize the fake PR relationship and his very real feelings for you with such clear separation. But it didn't stop the anxiety slowly gnawing away at your trust and security.

Increasingly, special romantic gestures from Harry felt like overcompensation for all the public affection he was faking with Kendall. When he'd surprise you with extravagant getaways to exotic locales, you couldn't fully relax into the pampering without wondering how much of it was just hiding guilt. And his constant reaffirmations of his love and devotion started ringing hollow amidst the growing circus his life was becoming.

The worst of it came at one of his first concerts after the publicity whirlwind began. You'd been so looking forward to experiencing the screaming crowds in a whole new light as Harry's actual partner, not just a casual fan. But the huge video screens kept flashing candid photos and fake couple shots of Harry holding hands and hugging Kendall, selling their phony romance to the fans.

You couldn't hold back the tears slipping down your cheeks as Harry serenaded the arena full of thousands, having no choice but to play along with the charade on the world stage. He caught your eye for just a second during the encore, and his smile instantly morphed into a look of sheer sorrow and guilt, looking at your tear-ridden face. He knew you, even if he stood so much away from you.  But there was nothing he could do then except push forward with the manufactured story.

That night after the concert, an emotional Harry fell into your arms the moment you were alone in his dressing room. He clung to you desperately, peppering apologies across your tear-stained and defeated face.

"God, Y/N, I'm so sorry," he rasped, emerald eyes awash with remorse and frustration. "Seeing you hurting like that because of this bloody sham...it killed me. You have to know how madly in love I am with only you."

You nodded, finding it hard to speak past the lump in your throat. Of course you knew, deep down, that Harry loved you wholly. His attentiveness, the intense spark of intimacy and passion between you, the emotional connection - it was all achingly real. This PR relationship was merely a toxic byproduct of his celebrity, something massively unfortunate but not defining your actual bond.

And yet...Harry couldn't deny the growing chaos enveloping his personal life. The fake romance was now Priority One to his team, staged and milked for every ounce of publicity. Constant video calls and strategy sessions mapped out each calculated move - where Harry and Kendall would stage a coffee run for the paps, when they should be papped holding hands emerging from a nightclub, how often they should update their couple-y Instagram shots together.

Harry grew increasingly sullen and withdrawn the more deeply engrossed he became in maintaining the facade. And you couldn't ignore the mounting jealousy and hurt rapidly corroding, chipping away your self-esteem and faith in the relationship.

***

"Maybe...maybe we should take a break," you finally broached one afternoon after an especially grueling set of publicity demands. Harry's head whipped up from where he was moodily going over plans for an upcoming awards show appearance.

"What? Why would you say that?" There was an edge of panic in his tone. He looked shocked, but you knew it was a long time coming.

You shrugged. "Harry, can you honestly tell me you don't resent me at all for the toll this whole – charade has taken? That some part of you doesn't wish you could just live your life freely without me holding you back from giving publicity stunts like this your full effort?"

He immediately rushed to gather you into his arms. "No! Never, Y/N. You're my world, my everything. Without you, all this would mean nothing!”

Burying your face into the strength of his shoulder, you wished you could cling to his words and find comfort there once more. But the turmoil swirling around you was rapidly becoming too overpowering.

"I'm just...I'm so tired of feeling like an afterthought, Harry. Of being the dirty little secret you have to hide away while flaunting someone else to the world. I can't keep living like this, sinking into doubt and jealousy constantly."

Harry's arms tightened around you convulsively. "Don't say that, my love. You could never be an afterthought to me. I need you here, by my side, to keep me grounded and remind me of what's truly real."

Though his words warmed your heart, you found yourself pulling back to gaze at him searchingly. "Then prove it. Enough with the grand romantic gestures, the desperate promises. I need you to actually fight for me, for us, instead of just going along with everything. Either that, or–” the lump in your throat deepend, “ –you can let me go”

Harry was taken aback by your words. But still, there was a part of him that didn;t fully understand what you were going through.  "You know it's not that simple, Y/N. One wrong move that tanks this publicity team's plans and my entire career could crater."

"So what?" you challenged, tilting your chin defiantly. Harry wasn't the only one being forced to make impossible choices. "Is the career really more important than your actual life, your happiness in a real relationship? Because I love you with everything, but I can't keep sacrificing my sense of self-worth and spinning out into reckless jealousy every waking moment just so you can have the best of both worlds."

"I...you have to understand, none of this publicity shite actually matters to me. Not really. It's all a smokescreen that will fade away eventually. But you, us - this love is my truth, my be all and end all. Don't give up on me, baby. I'll fix this, I swear it."

You wanted so badly to believe the desperation in Harry's voice. But the ache of sadness and insecurity had burrowed too deeply. What once would have swept you up in romantic adulation now just hollowed you out further.

"I really hope you can, Harry," you rasped, pulling away with immense reluctance. "Because I can't keep holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop much longer. This half-life just isn't enough anymore.I can't, Harry.I can't keep living like this."

Harry looked hurt now. He knew it was only a while before it all came shattering down, but the thought of Y/N walking away felt like a shard of glass lodged in his heart. 

"From this moment on, things change," he rasped. "No more bowing to bloody publicists and image managers. My truth, our bond, comes before anything else. You're about to become my permanent bloody shadow, love."

A smile curved your lips at his words. Reaching up to trace the sharp edge of his chiseled jaw, you felt a wave of relief and renewed hope. "Well, I do make a devilishly charming shadow, if I say so myself."

Harry's gaze drank you in like a man rewarded with an infinite oasis after years of directionless wandering. "That you do, baby. No more hiding that radiant light of yours, yeah? "

He sealed the vow with a kiss that seared straight through to your bones. You clung to him, every brush of his hands and velvet tongue rekindling the deepest intimacy between you two. 

When you finally pulled apart, chasing oxygen, Harry made an immediate move to sweep you up into his arms like a blushing bride. "Come on, love. Let's go remind the world of who they're dealing with, shall we?"

You looped your arms around his neck with a giddy laugh as he strode through the penthouse with you cradled protectively to his chest. Despite his determination, his hold was soft, cherishing. Like you were something infinitely precious to be handled with utmost care, or you would break.

Without explanation, Harry marched you both out and down to where a sleek black car was out front, the doorman quickly ushering you inside the backseat. Once the privacy partition rolled up, Harry immediately turned to you.

"I mean it, every word," he stated plainly. "No more deceptions or hiding our connection. From here it's full transparency and only the truth."

you felt overcome by tenderness and awe. "So...does that mean an end to the fake relationship with Kendall then?"

"Among other things," Harry confirmed without hesitation. To your surprise, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and thumbed it open to the camera app, situating you both in the frame. "We're going to document and share every moment of us, the real us. Let my supporters and fans see who truly holds my heart before all others."

You blinked in astonishment as he looped an arm around your waist, pulling your bodies flush as the camera captured. Was this really happening? After all your heartbreak and insecurity brought on by that disastrous PR relationship, was Harry truly throwing it all to the wind?

That was clearly his intention as he leaned in to nuzzle your cheek dotingly, snapping pic after sweet pic of shameless embraces and intimate caresses being exchanged between you. Each time the shutter clicked he murmured loving adorations, his focus immovable.

"Gorgeous girl...my forever woman...heart and soul of my entire world..."

You blinked back tears. When was the last time you'd felt this elevated by Harry's worshiping? Your shaky exhales intermingled hotly as he maneuvered you fully into his lap, slanting his mouth hungrily across yours.

"My everything," he growled against your lips before kissing you breathless.

"Harry..." you finally managed to gasp out as you pulled apart, "what are you doing? If you post those shots, then-"

"Then the whole world will know I'm mad for you, and only you," he said, with nothing but seriousness and devotion in his voice,  "No more closeting my actual partner away like a mistress to be hidden from disapproving eyes. You're the only romantic relationship fully grounded in truth that the world needs to be focused on."

You shivered at the assurance in his tone. This was really it - the definitive line in the sand. And with Harry looking at you the way he was, you couldn't find it in yourself to argue or question further. You simply melted into his heat, losing yourself in the incredible feeling of being staked as his claim.

With a few taps, Harry posted the first of intimate photos and captions that set the internet instantly ablaze. Breathy confessions of forever love intermingled with searing makeout shots - it was a rush of letting go of months of pent-up passion and adoration for the world to finally bear witness.

All the while, Harry refused to tear his stare from worshiping every inch of your body. His broad palms trailing over the exposed curves of your hips, waist, the swell of your breasts - anchoring you fully into the present.

Your social media was immediately swamped by a plethora of comments, tags and speculation over the tsunami wave of intimate reveals. Harry's fanbase seemed to have divided between celebration and outrage over their beloved idol being so thoroughly claimed by an average nobody. 

More jarring, however, was the media/PR teams' explosive reactions. Both your phones blew up with frantic calls and enraged messages demanding explanations and emergency meetings. As expected, the team working to orchestrate Harry's fake relationship with Kendall were melting down over the sheer negligence of you both, and damage control now being initiated.

For a long while, you both simply ignored it, too immersed in devouring the rebirth of your connection to spare any attention elsewhere. You reveled in being subjected to Harry's fervent, undivided worshipping as his fingertips and lips swept across every velvet hollow and slope. His sensual assault was purposefully overwhelming, etching his permanent claim over your quivering form.

"They'll keep the noise up for a while, try spreading all sorts of misinformation and manipulation to regain control of the narrative," Harry finally mumbled without breaking the rhythm of stripping you bare and lavishing undivided attention over each exposed new expanse of satin flesh.

You shivered beneath him, and he tilted your chin up with a knuckle to capture your gaze, "But none of that shite matters now, okay? All that matters is that I’m all yours now. Only yours.:

And you were never letting him go.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.