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#i have not drawn this boy in. a hot minute. so this was just a quick lil revist <33
milf-harrington · 28 days
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going back to my roots 💪 ft. @hella1975 's toab zuko <3
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stardestroyer81 · 11 months
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You ever wonder how Mike is going to keep seven foot tall animatronics out of his office with a flimsy door in place of the ones we're used to?
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radiosteve · 7 months
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I Knew You
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Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.
Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.
Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader
Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)
I knew I’d curse you for the longest time
The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.
You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain. 
You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat. 
Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up. 
“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.
“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life. 
“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.
“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it. 
It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad. 
Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike. 
Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing. 
You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.
You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.
“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.
“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again. 
Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.
“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.
Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby��� at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.
You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.
“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone. 
Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.
In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends. 
But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.
You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm. 
“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school. 
“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.
“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you. 
Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.
Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right? 
But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss
The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. 
You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.
A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point. 
You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.
“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.
“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.
“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.
“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.
“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.
“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.
“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.
“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.
“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.
“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.
“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.
“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.
“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.
“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.
“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.
Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.
“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you. 
“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.
“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.
“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”
“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.
Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.
“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door. 
“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.
“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.
He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.
The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.
By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.
“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.
“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.
The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks. 
“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie. 
“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you. 
Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.
“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances. 
“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.
“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.
“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.
“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so. 
“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.
“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest. 
“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.
“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.
“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin. 
“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.
“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.
“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.
“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice. 
Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.
The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.
Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass. 
He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.    
Drunk under a street light
Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.
“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.
“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin. 
“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.
“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.
“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.
“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.
“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words. 
“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.
“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something. 
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.
“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.
“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you. 
You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn. 
“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.
“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.
“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.
“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.
“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.
You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.
“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.
“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.
So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.
It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.
“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy. 
“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.
“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room. 
“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter. 
“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.
“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin. 
“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.
“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink. 
“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 
“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him. 
“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.
Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you. 
It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.
“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again. 
“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk. 
“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.
“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.
“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.
“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too. 
“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind. 
Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.
“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.
“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.
“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler. 
“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.
“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.
“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t. 
“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car. 
The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.
You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding
Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.
“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion. 
“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.
“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place. 
“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.
“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.
“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.
“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.
“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.
“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.
“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?
“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest. 
Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours. 
After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin. 
The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.
Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.
You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.
“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.
“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.
“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question. 
“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.
“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.
The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.
The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.
You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you. 
His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.
“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door. 
“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.
“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.
“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine. 
Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.
“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.
“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.
“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.
“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.
“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck. 
“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.
“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more. 
“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.
When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.
“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.
“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.
It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.
As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.
I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs
           The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned. 
           The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.
           Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered. 
           “Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor. 
           “I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes. 
           “Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too. 
           “Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process. 
Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.
“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.
“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?
“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.
“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie. 
“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out. 
“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you. 
You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.
“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.
“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.
“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.
“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.
“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life. 
You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.
“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.
“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door. 
“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.
As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.
When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.
“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.
“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.
“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.
“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.
“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.
“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy. 
“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.
“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.
“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.
“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.
“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.
“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.
“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation. 
“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.
“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.
“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.
“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.
“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.
“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.
“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.
“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.
Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.
“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected. 
“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.
“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs. 
“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.
“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.
A friend to all is a friend to none 
           Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement. 
Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate. 
“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy. 
You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.
“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.
“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap. 
“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.
“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.
“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.
“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.
“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.
“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.
“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.
“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin. 
“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.
“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice. 
“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.
“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.
“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.
“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.
“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare. 
“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.
“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.
“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.
“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below. 
“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.
Chasing shadows in the grocery line
           Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you. 
           Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile. 
Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed. 
With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.
Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts. 
Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.
“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say. 
“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.
“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.
“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.
“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.
“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.
Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war. 
On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts. 
“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before. 
“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.
“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.
You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.
There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.
“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.
“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs. 
“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked. 
“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.
“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won. 
“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.
When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams. 
You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it. 
You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word. 
“Please.”
And you’d come back to me
           The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself. 
A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.
“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room. 
His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.
“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.
“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.
“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.
“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.
“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.
“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.
“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.
“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.
Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.
“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.
“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.
“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.
“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his. 
A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.
“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck. 
“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.
“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.
His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt. 
“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.
“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.
“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.
His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.
“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you. 
“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head. 
“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full. 
“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room. 
“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure. 
“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.
The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.
When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.
You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.
The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume. 
You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.
In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out. 
You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.
You put me on and said I was your favorite
The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.
“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.
“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.
“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.
“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail. 
“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare. 
“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did. 
The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving. 
Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame. 
“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.
Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.
You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.
“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away. 
Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.
“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”
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nouverx · 2 months
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Just wanna put Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) and Luffy (One Piece) in a jar and shake them. Just imaging these two chaotic aro ace in the same room brings me so much joy.
I feel like they would viscerally hate each other if they ever had to meet ahah :'D I drew them reacting to their flag instead! I haven't drawn Luffy in a hot minute damn I missed my boi
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Now that I think about it, it's funny how similar yet completely different they are. Luffy's whole deal is about smiling, laughing and make people around him happy, while Alastor's whole deal is also about smiling, but he uses it for control, to hide his true emotions and make people around him uncomfortable/second guessing him all the the time.
Luffy is aroace, but still full of love for everyone, he cares so much and shows so much affection, while Alastor is aroace and mostly touch averse, takes a long time to get attached to people and shows very little affection (or maybe has his own definition of affection idk)
And they both have a weird moral code and hate people in power who uses it to exploit the weak?? Not to the same extend ofc but still, that's an interesting trait they share .
My two favourite aroaces I love them so much 💖
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thisismeracing · 4 months
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Heartdresser | LH44
― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x braider!reader ― Warning: mentions of a brother, social media au mixed with regular writing, tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader (she/her); - 2.8k words + social media setting. ― Summary: When Lewis finds himself just a couple days away from a racing weekend and without his usual braids he desperately searches for suggestions of available hairdressers in the area. As the saying goes, love can come from the most unexpected places, and Lewis is about to discover that this is, in fact, true. (based on this request)
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Being a Formula One Driver had its perks, from obvious and big things such as traveling everywhere to not-so-obvious and small things like having your hair stylist travel to you when you needed them. After becoming an adult and famous, it took Lewis a couple of years to come to terms with his hair, how to style it, how to take care of it, and how to embrace the texture and volume. He felt finally whole when he reached that point, one where meaningless comments on the internet wouldn’t make him rethink his path, goals, and achievements. Of course, comments hurt, but being comfortable with yourself helped, and that was something Lewis learned. 
Now, his braids were part of him. The hairstyle being associated with his image in the blink of an eye. Something that made him feel handsome, and connected with his roots. Something that seemed to help other young black boys around, who started to see themselves as stylish and handsome too.
That’s the main reason why he was so frustrated when his braider called him to tell them they couldn’t make it to Las Vegas. And the thing with braids is that it's not only a style that connects you to your roots, and makes you feel comfortable, it is also a hair protection style. Though Lewis doesn’t tell people he has superstitions and somehow it is true, part of him feels like he races better when he’s feeling himself in all senses of the word. This means having his hair in the braids he’s been looking forward to for over two weeks is something important to him.
So in the heat of the moment, he decides to look for help on Twitter.
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“Hi, you must be Lewis,” you smile, extending your hands, and the man in front of you takes it in with a grin. 
“Hey, good afternoon,” his grip is still thigh yet soft on your hand. “Yeah, it’s me. Thank you for having me on such short notice.” He’s handsome and polite in all the ways one should be to be considered perfect, and you start to understand why your baby brother was drawn to admire his persona outside the tracks. 
You shake your head with a chuckle, “It was actually my day off, but I had no problem fitting you in since it meant Dee would get to meet you.”
“Oh- honesty is something I find hot,” he chuckles and adds a grin for good measure, all while looking straight into your eyes and you can’t help but laugh.
Add funny to the list of things Lewis Hamilton seems to be. 
“Who’s Dee, by the way?” 
“It’s Aiyden, my little brother. I call him Dee,” you explain before adding, “He’s finishing a Chemistry project with a few friends at school. He was tempted to skip but gave up after a pep talk on how school is important, and I would take forever doing your hair just so he could see you.” 
Lewis nods while you explain, and then he’s chuckling just like minutes ago. 
“I don’t mind waiting for him with you,” he winks.
You’re not sure if he’s being friendly, funny, or flirty, but any of these F words coming from the black guy in front of you are surely making your heart skip a beat. 
“You can sit here while I grab everything,” you point to a chair in front of a big mirror and Lewis does as said. 
“Your hair looks fire,” he comments, watching from the mirror while you go through the small saloon gathering the packs of hair and combs you would need. “Did you do it yourself?” 
“Thanks,” you stop just for a second, smiling when your eyes meet. “And yeah, I did it just last weekend.”
“You look even more stunning with this style,” and just like that he has you giggling again. “I mean it. I saw your profile picture and I was convinced you couldn’t get more beautiful, and then you opened that door with a smile and these amazing braids and I was like wow.” “You’re a funny one.”
“I’ve heard some women like their man funny, is that your case? If so, I’m ready to get into stand-up comedy.” 
You double with laughter, shaking your head and biting your lips to keep the funny noises inside.
“Same style you’ve sent me the picture?” Lewis nods. “Any addition or preference?” you ask, starting to section his hair, and he answers no while making himself comfortable on the chair.
And even though you joked about taking forever just so your brother would catch Lewis, you ended up really taking forever because the driver in front of you would joke around and give you flirty comments and you couldn’t help but stop to laugh. The style he wanted was fairly fast, and his curls weren’t that thick, but still, you two did a small snack break when he ordered from a vegan bakery downtown. He was a fun guy to talk to, you came to learn that pretty quickly, which only added to his face card, which certainly was never denied. 
It was one of the best sessions you’ve had in a long time.
You were just finishing the final touches, adding water to boil, and cutting the small strands coming off the braids, when the bell over the door rang, announcing your little brother’s arrival. He has an incredulous expression on his face watching his idol sitting on the chair of his sister’s salon. 
“Hey man, how was the chem’s project?” Lewis asks and Aiyden turns around to the door, doing a small victory dance and, probably, the most hideous expressions to conceal his eagerness and happiness. 
You and Lewis laugh.
“Omg, hi, Lewis!” He finally walks to you, shaking hands with Lewis. His eyes – big orbs gleaming with excitement. 
“Aren’t you gonna say hi to your sister, young man?” with your hands on your waist you furrow your brows in the direction of the curly-haired boy who smiles, engulfing your body in a big hug. You hug him back before tapping his back and fake complaining about how he was crushing you. 
Aiyden had just turned fifteen, but his love for sports seemed to help him defy your DNA and grow more than your family’s average size. He was almost reaching your height, and he sure was stronger than you, but he was still just your baby boy. 
“These new braids are lit, man! Told ya my sister would make it happen,” Ayiden, who still has one of his arms around your shoulders, tells Lewis with a proud smile.
The driver moves his head confidently checking his hair in the mirror, “She was a great braider, and even better company, to be honest.” 
Yn rolls her eyes playfully before going back to the water and mentioning for Ayiden to take a step back. She dips the ends of the braids into the water, waiting for a bit before taking them off and draping a towel around Lewis’ broad shoulders. 
“So, your sister mentioned a chem school project. How was it?” 
And just like that Ayiden and Lewis are talking non-stop while you tidy the salon, watching their interaction with a fond smile. The Brit was attentive to your brother, always ready to listen rather than speak, always engaging, and making Ayiden feel comfortable to share whatever he wanted to. 
He probably had no idea, but that was an easy way to get to your heart. Ayiden was your treasure, and the fact that Lewis was treating the boy as if he was his little treasure too only added to the list of things you found amazing about him.
“...right, Yn?” Dee asked and you snapped out of your daydream.
“What?”
“Lewis just invited us to the Vegas GP, I said we were going, right? Please, please, please,” he pleaded in front of you with his two hands together as if in prayer, and you bit the inside of your mouth.
“Sunday?” 
“No, the whole package, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday!” he explained excitedly.
“It will be fun, c’mon,” Lewis tried.
“You have school on Friday.” You reasoned, but Ayiden was quick to explain that Friday wouldn’t be until 6 pm. “You’re the one asking Kali to get my appointments from Saturday,” pointing a finger to your brother you accepted, knowing that your friend and coworker, had a space on Saturday for a hair or two and wouldn’t mind covering so your clients wouldn’t be hanging out to dry. Still, she would probably huff and yapp before accepting. That was something that Ayiden would now deal with though, so you were all good. 
Ayiden jumped up and down the same way he did when he was ten years old asking you to get him a new pair of soccer jerseys, and you accepted. It was endearing.
You talked for a few more minutes, Ayiden got his picture, and just like that Lewis was saying his farewells. This time he didn’t shake your hands, rather hugged you and you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent and relish his warmth.
“See you on Friday, guys,” he waved, showing off his perfect set of teeth. 
“See you, man!” 
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yourinstagram had to drive the kiddo to school today or else he would stay home choosing his weekend outfits lol (traffic is a bitch btw, so if you can avoid downtown, pls do!)
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youngdee why would you expose me like that
⤷ yourinstagram I'm your older sister, ofc I'm gonna act like a mom ❤️😘
lewishamilton nice fit, ayideen!
⤷ youngdee thank you, man! 😎
⤷ fan4490 OMG KJSDKGJSKG
charleslechair she looks so cute
⤷ charleslechair scratch that I just went through her pics
⤷ charleslechair she's hot
⤷ charleslechair and super talented
wolffmickey so its confirmed, she's the braider?
schumachinho *on my knees begging* pls, do my hair too, yn, pls pls 🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️
yourfriend I spent an hour on traffic today in a road that usually takes me about ten minutes 🫠
yourfriend2 bruh, ayideen is getting bigger and bigger, I feel OLD 😭
Friday rolled around quickly and you got to watch the total amount of fifteen minutes of practice 1 before all hell broke. Ayiden explained everything to you along with the whole controversy going on with the LA Gran Prix, which you were just a tad aware of. Lewis wasn’t able to spend much time with you guys that much was expected, but whenever he found a few seconds he would pass by, ask if you guys were ok, if Dee was having fun if there was something he could do, and just overall being the goofy Lewis he was during the appointment. Ayiden seemed to find the flirtatious glances and lines funny, and so did you, except this time it felt a little more real because you were sure a few people around overheard some. 
It was an amazing night, you made friends with a couple of people from the crew, and Ayiden had the time of his life meeting a few other idols, and almost started hyperventilating when Hamilton told him he would take him to meet Charles Leclerc on Sunday. 
Saturday was even more of a rush, you almost didn’t see Lewis, but he texted before and after quali. So when Sunday came you were still trying to navigate the whole paddock thing, but a bit more comfortable about it. Aiyden was still acting as if it was his own version of Disney land and it was his first day discovering the adventure world. You were loving it for him, of course. 
“Nice outfit,” Lewis whispers right beside you, catching you off guard and making you jump in surprise. You were in a corner, just texting a friend, and checking your next few appointments while Ayiden went to meet Charles and you thought Lewis would be there until he came back, but it wasn’t the case.
“You’re sneaky,” you chuckled, straightening your instance and looking into his face only to notice he was already staring at you. 
“You look cute when you’re focused,” he winks, before adding, “and when you’re scared too.” 
“You look cute when you joke like this,” throwing back at him you didn’t expect for his brows to furrow in confusion. 
“You think I’m joking?” 
“Aren’t you?” 
Lewis giggles. He giggles and you can’t help but smile with the sound and the way his lips part while his eyes squint. “I’m not.”
“You’re not?!” 
“I think you’re pretty and smart, and talented. I was genuinely flirting with you,” his explanation makes your insides turn in giddiness, and as if it wasn’t enough Lewis smiles, eyes glued on yours before he asks: “Wanna go on a date with me?” 
“A date?” You repeat trying to let the idea sink. 
“A date?” This time it’s Ayiden’s voice and you turn alarmed, expecting to see a confused and jealous brother, only to find him with the biggest grin ever.
“Yeah, a date,” Lewis smiles briefly to Ayiden, before staring back at you, waiting for your answer.
You blink still unsure. Fair enough, he was hot, educated, smart, and he checked all the boxes, but that wasn’t any guarantee of a successful relationship, or fling, or whatever he had in mind. And also, his lifestyle wasn’t something you were used to. How would dating him work when he’s often traveling around to drive?
“C’mon, don’t overthink it, Yn.” Ayiden comes to help, standing beside Lewis and the Brit chuckles. “It’s THE SIR Lewis Hamilton,” he points, and this time Lewis laughs. 
You bit your lips, not helping but letting a smile escape. 
Lewis is in front of you, hands in his pockets, big brown eyes watching you, and the smallest smile gracing the corner of his plump lips. He looked great. And as much as you wanted to deny, there was a vibe going on. 
You take a deep breath, smirking at him, “Get yourself a podium and we’ll talk about a date later.”  
Ayiden’s eyes widened. 
“Did you forget how quali went?! It’s gonna be hell to get a podium, almost impossible,” your brother tries to reason, but Lewis shakes his head, extending his hand to which you clasp in yours.
“Deal,” the driver smiles. “I’ll get you a podium.”
Lewis squeezes Ayiden’s shoulder and winks at you before disappearing into the garage to get ready for the race.
“One more reason why he’s the goat, see? If I were you I would go on a date with him even if he didn’t get a podium.” 
You laugh, “For the few things I saw, he likes the challenge. Let me indulge him.” 
“You’re crazy.”
“And he’ll get a podium.” 
“It’s very unlikely, but I won’t deny the possibility. It’s Lewis after all.” Your brother leans on the wall beside you. “And it looks like he wants this date bad.” 
“What makes you think this?” 
“C’mon, he’s been flirting with you nonstop since the hair appointment.” 
“I genuinely thought he was joking.” 
“You can be so clueless sometimes,” your brother rolls his eyes playfully and you slap the back of his head. 
“Watch it, young man, I’m still the oldest.” 
And you were still right too, because hours later Lewis impressed everyone by getting third place. He kept everyone on the edge of their seats along with Charles who did a brilliant race, and just like that your brother was grinning devilishly your way because now you had a date with no one other than Lewis Hamilton who happened to walk into the garage just as you were handling a water bottle to Dee after he ran to watch the ceremony as if his life depended on it.
Lewis was smiling brightly at you, sweat mixed with champagne, but you couldn’t help but grin right back and lace your arms around him, taking him by surprise. 
“I’m all sweaty, sorry,” he whispers, his tattooed hand flatting on your bag and bringing your body closer. 
“It’s fine. Congrats on the race.” 
“Congrats on the race, man!” Ayiden hugs him too and Lewis smiles, eyes still trapped on you. When your brother lets him go and stays rooted in place looking from you to Lewis you trap the laugh inside, and roll your eyes fakely, pointing for the young boy to give you both some privacy.
“So, looks like I scored myself a date, huh?” 
You nod, taking a small step in his direction and trying to keep your hands from tracing all the small details on his face from this up close, “You sure did.” Your eyes were now on his lips, and Lewis grinned. 
“Can I ask you something?” 
“You already have a date, what else do you wanna ask me?” You’re teasing and he knows it because this time he’s the one to take a step in your direction. The tips of your shoes are touching, and you can hear the rustling outside, but it’s just you two in the corridor, and you hope it stays like this for just a little longer even though you knew he had an interview in a few minutes. His company and attention are something you enjoyed having.
“With how many dates do you find it ok to kiss someone?” His playful tone is there, but his expression makes your knees almost buck. “Can we count practice, quali, and the race as dates?” 
And just like that he has you laughing and grabbing his neck to close the distance and smash your lips in a very much-awaited kiss. 
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────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon on Tumblr) for proofreading this (Ily, C!)
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ghostgirl101 · 4 months
Note
Hi!! Loved your post about Oliver Quick being obsessed. How about Farleigh being obsessed with you 👁️👁️👁️
Dating Farleigh Start Would Be Like This...
A/N: Pffft his face here is a whole mood 😭 I got a similar request for Felix too, so he's next 🙃 Dating headcanons coming right up, with a side order of freaking obsessive, naturally:
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⚜️• I don't know what to say about this guy that isn't already shown in the pic 😏 he's a cocky, rude, arrogant flirtatious player who takes every opportunity and advantage to use to his best. Once something's caught his attention, it'll play on his mind and he'll get to it in his own way, because that's the Farleigh Start we know and love.
⚜️• You'll meet him at Oxford, maybe hanging out around his friends with Felix and the rest, maybe not. I think he'd be very much drawn to someone who's not like the girls he sees always running after Felix or trying to make him jealous when they don't have his attention. You be you, and when he uses a very bold and seemingly smooth line on you, give him a look of amusement and slight confusion, and he'll be stunned that you didn't fall all over him for his charms like he's used to.
⚜️• Farleigh just watches you leave for a solid minute in bewilderment and intrigue because the guy got kicked out of every school because of how he is, but apparently, you're not that easy? This is new...?
⚜️• Don't think Farleigh's just some rich prick playboy who has to pick on the smarter kids to stay in college though, because he's surprisingly smart, which wouldn't be a first guess based on the way he acts around people and mocks anyone who isn't anywhere in his circle of friends and social class with Felix. If you saw him reviewing essays and stuff with Oliver and the teacher near the beginning of the movie, you can see he knows his terminology and how to study to get good enough grades in class. The only reason he kept getting kicked out of schools was for messing around with the teachers. It's not like Farleigh's stupid, not at all, but there's no way he's going to work harder than he has to... which isn't that hard at all.
⚜️• So when he saunters over to you yet again with his familiar arrogant smirk and charm, offering you a drink while his eyes unsubtly trail up and down your figure in intrigue, and you smile in amusement and casually turn him down... 😑😐 (his face) and then realises that okay, he might have to work harder than he usually does, because there's something about you that's made him curious, Farleigh has to rethink for a second before trying to get you to tag along with him and his friends more often.
⚜️• If Felix doesn't ask you over to Saltburn for the holidays, Farligh will nag at him to do it, with seemingly no other reason than "you're hot" and "why not have a new face?" and whatever else he thinks up on the spot that's half earnest and true, and also because a big manor out in the country with private gardens is just the perfect place to take this person he's been mildly obsessing over for the past while to draw them in... Felix, say yes now, because boy won't take no for an answer.
⚜️• During the course of your stay and hanging out around Farleigh, you'll come to realise that he's actually not a total jackass and snob that fools around with any girl he thinks is hot enough. His ties with the Cattons are pretty fragile and complex, and there's a lot more to him than he'll ever really show. There's a lot of pressure in fitting in and matching Saltburn's aesthetic and definition, but if you're someone who's not completely used to all the wealth and standards and makes him feel more relaxed and accepted without a facade everyone seems to wear, you'll see more and more of what makes Farleigh, Farleigh.
⚜️• So well done to him for discovering that there's more to an aspiring relationship than just the sex and passion, there's communication and actually getting to know each other too 👏
⚜️• As you get properly closer, you'll see that the dude gets ridiculously jealous when any other guy or girl shows an interest in you that goes past platonic in his eyes. He's started arguments and fights before about lesser things, so don't think he won't tense up and his eyes won't narrow into an annoyed glare at whoever it is that's taking up too much of your time. Farleigh will probably finish it off by humiliating them in some way, smirking in amusement from his seat as he watches his efforts pay off, and shrug with a faux innocent look when you call him out on it.
⚜️• If Oliver Quick happens to be Felix's guest at Saltburn too, Farleigh's jealousy levels and possessiveness will spike too, along with a hint of protectiveness. Since he basically thought right from the beginning that there was something weird about Oliver - maybe not to the realistic point that's revealed, but enough to not have one friendly or lighthearted word for him - Oliver going to you for friendship or most likely something more will only motivate Farleigh to exclude him as much as he can from the rest of the group.
⚜️• I feel like Farleigh would grow to quickly love what it means to be in a committed and official relationship, when before he turned his nose up at the idea of being restrained to only one person instead of a fling, and not having to worry about telling each other things that go too deep. It seems to all come naturally with you, and he loves it; being a loud and gleefully obnoxious supporter when you're doing whatever club or sport or anything at all with half a crowd watching from the sidelines. Proud, smug boyfriend right in the front row taking an unnecessary amount of photos to put up on a wall in his room.
⚜️• Farleigh makes simping look good. 😎
⚜️• He'll take advantage of the money he gets to buy you as expensive things as he can get, smirking proudly when he remembers you talking about something you like to get you. Farleigh can absolutely be romantic if he tries, mostly when you're alone and he makes sure he's the first one to tell you he loves you, it'll be surprisingly heartfelt and sweet and vulnerable, and then you've officially, one hundred per cent, seen Farleigh Start for everything he really is, which isn't all bad at all.
⚜️• Big-time pda, and if you're not into that, tell him now, right now, because he's fairly shameless and won't think twice before showing off to his friends by making out with you at uncalled moments, or being more subtle and sweet by having his arm naturally around your shoulders when you're watching a movie or at some social event. Big handholder as well; walking to and from class, alone, in public, doesn't make a difference to him.
⚜️• His jealousy factors into his affection outside sometimes, not that he doesn't trust you, but Farleigh definitely isn't the only player around, and when you're at Saltburn with Felix, he might find himself being frustratedly insecure that you'll be drawn to him because... well, it's Felix, and everyone loves Felix. So when you show that you're not interested at all and it's Farleigh you're dating, duh, he'll chill out a bit after being clingy for a day or two.
⚜️• I will say that even though I don't write smut, it's gotta be obvious that you'll have more than enough going on behind closed doors, because it's Farleigh, and he likes you a lot, so... yeah, brace yourself 😏
⚜️• All I'm gonna say, though, is watch out for Oliver Quick, who's most likely watching it all with that familiar longing and envy of having such a close and strong relationship with someone beautiful and unique, who seems to fit in with the rest of the family just by being you. He's going to. want it, really want it, and whether he gets it or not is a matter of luck and dark fate.
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babydollmarauders · 5 months
Text
IN A BOX — TREVOR ZEGRAS AND JAMIE DRYSDALE
trevor zegras x fem!reader x jamie drysdale
12 DAYS OF KINKMAS
summary: in which Trevor and Jamie do the ‘dick in a box’ joke to their fuck buddy, leading to a threesome
warnings: NSFW CONTENT, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected), degradation. (2.7k words)
notes: welcome to day 9 of the 12 days of kinkmas! this is the first threesome i’ve ever written, and it features everyone’s favorite dynamic duck duo! this starts out jokey and it makes me laugh ngl.
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i’ve never claimed i was smart.
if i were smart, i probably wouldn’t have started sleeping with two of my best friends.
i probably wouldn’t have agreed to their friends-with-benefits arrangement.
and i most certainly, wouldn’t have had my expectations so high when they claimed they had christmas gifts for me.
yet, here i am. sat on Trevor and Jamie’s couch for the past fifteen minutes, a rapidly cooling peppermint hot cocoa clutched in my hands, and a sneaking suspicion that they do not, in fact, have christmas gifts for me.
“guys, are you coming?” i shout in the direction of the stairs, my voice bouncing off the walls of the house.
i can hear Trevor’s wheezy laugh carry down the steps. a mischievous lilt hidden in.
“we will be soon!” he calls back and i huff, slumping further into the couch cushions.
my flight back home for the holidays is tomorrow, the 23rd, and the boys had claimed they have presents they want to give me before i leave. i arrived armed with gifts for each of them, and after they opened them, they had stated they just had to grab my presents from their rooms; but i’m beginning to think they’ve lied to me.
“okay, close your eyes!” i sigh out a ‘finally!’ at the sound of Jamie’s words, squeezing my eyes shut.
“are they closed?” Trevor snickers, sounding closer now.
“yes, Trevor! they’re closed!” i snap, covering my eyes for good measure.
i can hear their footsteps get closer, padding down the stairs and into the living room, before Jamie tells me i can open my eyes.
i’m immediately confused by the sight in front of me, bewildered at the two men clad only in flannel pajama pants. both hold a gift box in front of them, wide smiles on their faces.
“why are you shirtless?” i giggle, my brows threading together as they stand side by side in front of me.
“just open your gifts!” Jamie urges.
“we’ll hold them! you open them!” Trevor tells me. “at the same time! gotta open them at the same time! or else the other present will be spoiled.”
i raise an eyebrow at the hyper hockey player, but he just notions with his head for me to hurry up.
i set my hot cocoa to the side, the mug clanking against the top of the wooden side table beside the couch. i glare at them suspiciously as i scooch to the edge of the couch.
reaching forward with both hands, i pull the tops from the christmas paper lined boxes, only to find what i least expected. there, poking through holes cut in the sides of the boxes, were Trevor and Jamie’s dicks. both already hard, so i’m drawn to assume that’s what they were doing upstairs.
“oh my god!” i peer up at the boys with amusement, a wide, humorous smile on my face. “you guys did not just do the dick in a box gift gag to me.”
“what do you mean ‘gag’?” Trevor jokes, “these are your gifts.”
the hockey players stare down at me, and it’s only then that i clock the lust in their eyes, obviously determined to finish what they started by themselves in their rooms.
my tongue flicks across my bottom lip, wetness pooling in my panties at the thought of a threesome.
sure, i’ve slept with the both of them; but its always been at separate times. never together, despite my persistence to them that i would love to do it.
“well, i guess i should have some fun with my gifts then, right?” Trevor and Jamie smirk at my words, removing themselves from the boxes and leaving themselves untucked from their bottoms.
i let the gift box lids tumble to the floor, reaching both hands forward, to grasp one of them in each hand. i tug, my eyes flitting between them to gauge their reactions.
while Trevor bites his lip, letting out a muffled moan, Jamie’s head tilts back, his jaw going slack.
i continue my movements, slowly jerking the both of them off. getting more and more aroused by the sounds they let out, echoing throughout the downstairs of the house. and when i abruptly stop, both men’s eyes pop open, staring down at me.
“well, you can’t expect me to have fun like this, can you?” i tease them, my tone sultry and low, and just to show them exactly what i mean, i pull my sweater over my head; leaving me in nothing but my skirt and bra.
the two men make quick work of joining me on the couch, sitting on either side of me. Trevor’s hand grazes my neck as he pushes my hair off my shoulder, his head dipping down to attach his lips to my collarbone, suckling and leaving wet kisses up the column of my throat. whereas Jamie takes it upon himself to press his lips to mine. what starts out as lust driven and rushed, quickly turns into passion and need. the defenseman’s tongue runs over the seam of my lips, gaining entry when i part them and pushing his tongue against mine.
Trevor’s hand rests high up on my thigh, slowly inching his way up under my skirt, and it doesn’t take long for him to get even bolder; his fingers finding my clit through my soaked lace panties. his middle finger presses, rubbing me in circular motions, and a high pitched moan escapes my lips, muffled by Jamie’s.
as though coordinated, both men pull away from me, Jamie’s lips puffy and swollen. the tip of Trevor’s nose drags up my throat slowly, until he reaches my ear, his finger halting in its movements.
“you want this?” Jamie asks me, smirking as i nod my head and let out a choked whimper.
“then we need you to be a good girl and strip for us.” Trevor whispers in my ear, pairing his utterance with a roll of my earlobe between his lips.
he pulls away, both pairs of eyes settling on me as i rise from my seat. i unzip my skirt, letting it pool to the floor into a puddle of fabric at my feet, and they suck in a breath at the sight of my matching red lacy set.
“someone knew she was gonna get fucked today.”
i nod at Jamie’s words, bottom lip caught between my teeth as i unclip my bra, pushing the straps off my shoulders and allowing it to drop down to the floor. my nipples are stiff and peaked, the cold air doing nothing to help.
“i didn’t know i would get both of you today though.” i confess, a boost of confidence surging through me as the hockey players ogle my breasts.
“keep going, baby.” Trevor all but groans, watching intently as i begin to drag my panties down my legs, stepping out of them and leaving myself bare for them.
“i hardly think this is fair.” i huff, feigning a pout. “you guys still have your pants on and i’m here all naked for you.”
Jamie hops up from the couch, tugging his flannel pants from his legs, while Trevor merely lifts his hips and takes his off while sitting. both men look at me, seeking reassurance, and i nod.
“much better.”
Trevor grins, leaning forward to grip my by the waist and pulling me back onto the couch. he pushes me flat down, sprawling me out on the sofa, and guides my leg to hook over the back of the couch, leaving me open and vulnerable to his gaze.
my eyes flick to find Jamie, but rather than standing in the spot he once was, he now sits in the chair beside the couch. his hand grips around the base of his cock, squeezing gently to tease himself as he watches Trevor and i.
“let’s see if you taste as good as your cocoa.” Trevor smirks. i roll my eyes at the joke, laughing at his cheesy remark, but my giggles get caught in my throat when he bends down, licking a stripe up my core.
“fuck, Trevor.” i cry out, one hand flying to his head and burying itself in his fluffy dirty blonde hair, as the other fists the couch cushion beside my head.
Trevor chuckles lowly, repositioning himself before diving in like a man starved. his tongue laps at my arousal, my eyes squeezing shut at the feeling, and i can hear Jamie groan from his place near my head.
licking up, Trevor flicks his tongue against my clit, his hands holding my thighs apart to keep me from squeezing them around his head. his lips close around the nub of nerves, sucking it and rolling it between his lips, and i give a tug to his hair, a moan bubbling up my throat as my hips buck against him.
“yes! please, don’t stop!” i whimper, but rather than listen to my words, he chooses to release my clit, letting his tongue drag back down to my entrance.
continuing his assault against my cunt, Trevor brings his thumb to my clit, providing just enough pressure as he begins to rub.
my eyes roll back in my head, my back arching, and i can feel the pressure in my stomach growing; getting stronger and stronger the longer he continues.
“make her come, Z.” Jamie pipes up, “i wanna watch her let go.”
Trevor hums in agreement, the vibrations traveling from his tongue to my pussy. and with just a few more rubs of his thumb, and flicks of his tongue, my breath catches in my throat, my lack of oxygen quickly making me woozy and aiding in tipping me over the edge. i heave out a breath, mingled with a high pitched cry as my vision turns white, my legs shaking as i release on his tongue.
he doesn’t ease up, lapping at my wetness even after i come down from my climax. it’s only when i whine, pushing his head away, that he finally backs away, pushing himself up.
“i’d say she’s ready to be properly fucked, wouldn’t you Jimmy?” Trevor chuckles, staring down at me as i pant to catch my breath.
“yeah, i think i must agree, Trev.” Jamie sidles up to the couch, joining his best friend in watching me in my fucked out bliss. “i think she can take another one, don’t you?”
“i know she can.” Trevor confirms. taking ahold of my hands, Trevor helps me up, motioning for me to spin around. once i do so, Jamie nudges my back, forcing me onto all fours before he kneels behind me.
“can’t wait to have those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” Trevor mutters, his thumb running along my bottom lip. “you think you can handle me fucking your face?”
i peer up at him through my lashes, working hard to focus my vision, as i can feel Jamie running his tip through my wetness. nodding my head, Trevor smiles down at me darkly.
“yeah, i know you can.”
gripping his cock, Trevor pushes the tip against my lips, urging me to open up for him, and i happily do so, relaxing my throat as he pushes in. it’s in this moment that Jamie thrusts in to the hilt, bottoming out inside of me, and i choke, my eyes rolling back as i adjust to the fullness.
“fuck, you feel like heaven.” Jamie grunts, pulling all the way out before he intrudes me once more, setting a quick pace. “so fucking tight, i could fuck you all day.”
i clench around him in acknowledgement, a groan falling from his lips at the feeling.
i can barely hear his grunt over the sounds of my gagging as Trevor thrusts into my face, his hands gripping the side of my head as he guides me. pulling out, i’m given a little reprieve, sucking in a deep breath as Trevor slaps my cheek with his cock, drool and pre-cum dripping down my chin.
“you’ve been wanting this for so long, haven’t you?” the forward mocks me, slipping himself back past my lips as i whine.
“you just wanna be filled, don’t you?” Jamie chimes in, “fucked thoroughly.”
i can’t respond, but i have the suspicion that’s how they want it, both laughing as i focus purely on pleasure.
i can feel myself sucking Jamie in every time he thrusts, my walls closing around him in effort to keep him there. his tip drags against my g-spot every time his hips snap, and i can feel the pressure in my stomach building itself back up. tying into knots as he quickens his pace.
his skin slaps against mine, and his hand spreads across my back, pushing down to get me to arch it, and i follow his lead. the new angle makes my toes curl, but i can’t focus too hard on it because i can feel Trevor’s dick begin to throb.
Trevor’s head tips back, a loud moan escaping him as he pulls back again, letting me breathe through my mouth for a moment rather than my nose, before he pushes my head back down.
“shit! i’m gonna come!” Trevor breathes out, and i relax my throat, hollowing out my cheeks as he pushes me until my nose makes contact with his abdomen, holding me there as his abs flex. his cock twitches just before he sighs, ropes of cums spurting in my mouth and down my throat.
pulling out of my mouth, he gazes back down at me.
“show it to me.” i open my mouth, allowing him to see his release, and he grips my cheeks, pulling my head up. drawing his head back, he spits, some making it into my mouth while rest splatters on my cheek. “now swallow.”
his hand slides down to my throat, feeling the muscles work as i gulp, swallowing it down.
“good girl.”
with Trevor finished, Jamie takes this as his time to alter our position. shooing away his teammates hand, Jamie replaces Trevor’s grip on my throat with his own, pulling me up until my back is flat against his chest.
his hips buck, fucking himself up into me at a hard and fast pace, making my legs shake. his other hand finds my pearl, rubbing as he thrusts.
“that’s it. take this dick like a good girl.” Jamie whispers, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear, and it’s the combination of those words and his fingers circling my clit, that set me off, clenching around him as i reach my orgasm.
tears roll down my cheeks at the pleasure, my breath hitching once more as i come on his cock.
“fuck, squeezing me so tight, i’m gonna come.” Jack curses, making me clench around him again, spurring on his own release. he continues fucking me through our orgasms, causing chills to run down my spine.
releasing his hold on me, i flop down onto my back on the couch, catching my breath as the boys on either side of the couch do the same.
it’s silent in the room, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing, until Jamie speaks up.
“so remind me, why have we never done this before?”
Trevor and i let out shallow laughter, the defenseman joining us when he finally caught his breath.
“so…” i trail off, gaining the attention of both boys.
“you can use my shower.” Trevor tells me, and i nod. but when i make no move to get up, they both furrow their brows at me.
“give a girl a second!” i huff, “i think my legs are jello.”
at my words, both hockey players smirk, Trevor lifting his hand in the air for Jamie to fist bump.
once we’ve all three recovered, taken quick showers, and Jamie has remade my now long having gone cold cocoa; we rejoin on the couch, a blanket draped over the trio of us.
“what do we wanna watch?” Trevor questions, the remote clutched in his hand.
“a christmas movie.” i state, as though it’s obvious.
“Elf?” Jamie suggests, and i nod, Trevor already finding it on a streaming service.
about 20 minutes into the movie, i curl my legs up, cuddling into Jamie’s shoulder while Trevor’s hand grips my foot in a calming manner.
they both glance over at me, but upon seeing my still open eyes, immediately look back at the tv. Jamie repositions us, his arm now around me while my head lays on his chest, and despite my hardest attempts, my eyes flutter shut not long later. my breathing evening out as i fall asleep.
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euphemiaamillais · 3 months
Text
put me in a movie — roommate!snowjanus x reader
on a rather boring friday night, you decide that you can't just sit around with your roommates (boyfriends) and watch a boring movie... with your persistent whining, coryo decides you might just have to make one of your own
cw: 18+//threesome//piv sex//blowjobs//exhibitionism//backshots//degradation//coryo filming them fuck!//throuple goals <3
an: sorry it's been so long guys, i've been exhausted and too lazy to finish any of my drafts, but i hope you enjoy this one ;) i had to give you another roommates au!
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the movie the boys had put on was terribly boring—coryo fancied himself something of a film connoisseur, but you knew that really, all he did was write long-winded reviews on letterboxd about godard films, that nobody read. sejanus was too much of a people-pleaser to say no to whatever either of you wanted to watch, so you were forced to sit through all two hours of fight club.
you were yawning twenty minutes in, never much one for the films that coryo enjoyed—you preferred anything with hugh grant or colin firth, which coryo gave you so much shit for. you knew that there were better things you could all be doing this friday night, and the nagging heat at your core was an indication of that.
about halfway through the film, you managed to nestle yourself into coryo’s lap. you rubbed your ass against his crotch, but he was so engrossed in the movie that he moved you off his crotch and back to your spot on the couch.
‘coryo,’ you whined, clambering back on top of him and peppering kisses across his face.
‘stop,’ he scowled, shoving your pawing hands away.
you frowned, turning to glance at sejanus who seemed a little less engrossed in the film than coryo, and so decided that your best bet at relieving your tension was him. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and his eyes flickered over your features; drawn into a look of desperation.
‘sej, i’m bored,’ you murmur, straddling his lap, both sides of your thighs pressing against his.
‘yeah?’ he cocked a brow, still trying to peer at the movie past you.
you let out a heavy sigh, bubbling with vexation at their ignorance of you. why were they more interested in the movie than you? when you were so needy… normally they’d be over you in an instant, one of their hard-ons pressing against your thigh or poking against your ass.
‘i need some help,’ you whimpered, grinding your clothed cunt against his crotch.
‘baby, i’m trying to watch,’ sejanus’ hands grabbed at your waist, attempting to move you off of him, but you continued to rut your hips against him.
you knew it wouldn’t take long for sejanus’ body to respond, even if he cared more about stupid fight club than his hot roommate grinding on him. you peppered kisses down his neck, fighting his attempts to fend you off. a low groan escaped his lips as you ran your teeth across his pulse point, and you found that he was finally beginning to be receptive to your movements.
‘please sej, i really want to suck your cock,’ you pleaded, moving off of him and sliding to your knees.
you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, the bulge of his hard-on visible. your mouth watered as you slid your hand under his boxers to palm at his cock. sejanus moaned at the feeling of your cold hands stroking his throbbing cock, and figured he couldn’t just say no.
coryo’s lips were drawn into a scowl, and he pressed pause on the film to cast you a disgruntled glare. you’d distracted him from appreciating this fine piece of art—you were totally going to ruin the vibe for his letterboxd review.
‘sej, she’s being a brat,’ coryo snapped, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist.
‘ouch,’ you pouted, but he wasn’t pressing hard enough for their to be pain.
coryo rolled his eyes, but decided that if you were really going to act like such a desperate whore, he ought to take advantage of it. he used his free hand to pull out his phone, and his features flickered into a look of slight amusement.
‘if you’re going to distract me from the film, ‘spose i’ll just have to make one of my own.’ coryo grinned, pulling you back onto the large sofa.
you felt the heat continue to pool at your core, being manhandled by him, and moved your other hand to continue palming sej—the poor thing hadn’t said a word but you could see a dark patch forming on his boxers that indicated his tip was leaking.
‘coryo, what are you-’ you were silenced by his fingers deftly rubbing at your inner thigh, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.
‘come on, show me how you suck cock,’ he commanded, putting the phone in your face.
your eyes were stretched wide, but you nodded, moving so you were on your knees and elbows, head facing sejanus’ crotch from the side. your ass was now in coryo’s face, and he let out a delicious groan at the sight of it—your skirt had managed to flip up, revealing the fact that you were wearing a tiny pair of lace panties.
‘fucking hell, sej, wish you could see this,’ he tutted, moving the phone camera so he could film your pussy.
you let out a whine as coryo’s fingers pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wet, clenching hole. he ran a teasing finger over your slick hole, sending your eyes back. your hands were curled around sejanus’ hard cock, but coryo was distracting you too much to allow you to follow his orders.
‘coryo, please,’ you mewled, attempting to slap his hand away.
‘come on, princess, you can do it,’ he said sternly, guiding your head down.
you obliged, and began to swirl your tongue around the tip of sejanus’ cock. he let out a heavy sigh, hand reaching out to grasp at your hair. you licked up the trickles of precum that were coating his shaft, the sound of your mouth popping sending shivers down sejanus’ spine.
coryo had ceased his teasing for now, instead focusing the camera on you and sejanus. he loved how humiliating it was, forcing you to suck sejanus’ cock before the camera, the threat that he could do anything with that video looming over your head. however, the thought of that was what egged you on—it wasn’t as if you hadn’t been filmed before. you’d always let sej and coryo film you when the other one couldn’t be there to share the fun.
you took sejanus in your mouth now, lips stretching around his thick shaft. coryo laughed a little, enjoying the way your eyes began to water as you pushed sejanus further down your throat.
‘fuck, baby,’ sejanus groaned, cock twitching in your throat.
‘such a slut, taking sej’s cock like that,’ coryo taunted, giving your ass a slap.
your knees buckled slightly, but you kept bobbing your head up and down sejanus’ cock, tongue laving at the sensitive veins that covered his shaft. coryo felt himself harden at the sight, the way you were gagging as you attempted to take sejanus all the way. he loved how no matter what, you were always gagging on the both of them—sej because he was so thick, and coryo, because, well, it wasn’t like you could take all eight inches down your throat.
coryo’s free hand reached to rub at his cock until it was fully erect, until he slowly tugged at the waistband of his pants and boxers to free himself. he moved the phone to show off his big, hard cock, laughing to himself as he began to rub it against your ass.
he slapped the tip of his cock against your ass, watching as you whined around sejanus’ shaft. sejanus let out a breathy grunt as your whine sent a shock of pleasure through his body. your fingers moved to grasp his balls, playing with them softly as you tongued the tip of his cock.
you giggled, eyes stretched wide with a dumb look in them, saliva trickling from your lips as you sucked at the head of his cock. coryo ran his cock through your soaking folds, shaking his head in disbelief at how wet you were.
‘fuck, so fucking wet, huh? getting off on being such a little slut for me?’ coryo cajoled, pressing his tip into your tight cunt, feeling you stretch around him.
‘can’t even speak your mouth’s so fucking full with sej’s cock,’ he spat, sliding his cock back out, earning a whimper from you at the loss of pleasure at your achy core.
‘so close baby,’ sej managed to spit out as you pushed him back down your throat, fingers still deftly grasping at his sensitive balls.
coryo saw his chance to send you over the edge and slammed his cock all the way in, focusing the camera on the way your back arched as he entered you. he couldn’t believe how much of a slut you were being, letting him film you taking two cocks.
you moaned against sejanus’ cock as he twitched again in your mouth, his hips bucking with desperation. a grunt escaped his lips, and his head rolled back in pleasure, cock releasing its pent up tension. hot spurts of his cum spilled down your throat as you sucked him to his release.
when you pulled off his cock, you swirled your tongue back around the tip, licking up all the spend and swallowing it prettily. sejanus smoothed back your hair gently, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. you gave him a sweet smile, but the way coryo was beginning to pound into you proved awfully distracting.
‘being too sweet to her, sej, when she’s a whore,’ coryo mused, cock stretching out your tight, wet cunt.
your eyes rolled back, toes curling with pleasure as he took you from behind. your skin danced with warmth, turned on by the fact that coryo was filming you in such a vulnerable position. the way you held your pert ass just so for him, your pretty pussy just waiting for him to enter it—god, he too felt his own release coming on.
‘fucking slut,’ coryo slapped your ass, and gripped the firm fat of your cheek between his hand as he drove into your cunt.
‘so good!’ you gasped, feeling the rigid veins of his big cock pushing against your tight walls.
sejanus watched as he began to stroke his now soft cock to hardening again, getting off at the very sight of you with your face beginning to press against the soft seat of the sofa. coryo grasped a handful of your hair, pulling you back up with a rather forceful snap.
‘keep your head up, fuck!’ he grunted, snapping his hips against your ass.
‘can’t, coryo,’ you whimpered, cunt clenching around his huge, throbbing shaft.
your body was overcome with pleasure—he wasn’t even touching your clit, the simple feeling of his cock pounding into you was enough to send you over the edge. your mouth stretched around several pretty moans, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the sound of your wet cunt taking him echoed across the room. coryo was going to love watching this back when he was horny.
‘such a good little whore, taking my cock,’ he praised you, tugging at your hair again, loud enough to elicit a whimper as your scalp begin to tingle.
‘you gonna cum for me?’ he inquired, hand moving to rub at your ass cheek.
you were surprised at his gentleness, and nodded, but your hopes of him being sweet dissipated when his hand smacked your ass firmly. you mewled, body rearing back as pain and pleasure mingled. you were so, so close, clenching around him as he thrust deeper, tip poking at your cervix.
you let out a haggard breath, and felt yourself unfurl, slick gushing around his cock. coryo shook his head with a groan, moving the camera so it showed your milky arousal coating his shaft.
‘look at that, so fucking wet for me,’ he grinned, continuing to pound you, your tight hole clenching wetly around him, a slick ring forming at the base of his cock.
sejanus was close again too, and you smiled at him as you took coryo’s cock, lips wet with drool from how deep coryo was burying himself inside of you. his cock pulsed ever so slightly, and you could tell that he was near to his release.
‘i want you to cum inside me,’ you whined whorishly, but coryo pulled out before you could finish begging for him.
‘nuh uh, sluts don’t get to be filled up,’ he laughed cruelly, beginning to stroke his cock with his free hand. ‘gonna cum all over this pretty ass. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
he was taunting you, cock pressing against your now red cheeks—hand prints visible as a reminder that this was a punishment, and you didn’t get a say when you’d decided to distract the two of them during the film.
‘fuck!’ coryo sighed as he came.
his pearly cum spurted out against your ass, trickling down to your lower back as you arched a little at the sensation. he let out another bemused chuckle, watching as sejanus came against his stomach, the pathetic look on his face clear to the both of you.
coryo put the phone down, and pulled you into his lap, uncaring that your ass was covered in his hot, sticky cum. he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your lips before gazing at you with his baby blues.
‘next time, you’ll know better than to disrupt me when we’re watching a film.’
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onestopfanficshop · 1 year
Text
a fish with a bowtie
a simon "ghost" riley x reader blurb part two here!
no shock that i have fallen for yet another tall, muscular masked man. nothing new here! 😭
warnings/author's note: it feels so good to actually be able to write again omg. i included a very poorly drawn floor plan of the house in my head so you can visualize it better- nothing worse than not being able to see a story in your head! just some language and unreasonable amounts of fluff. your call sign is sparrow. simon being simon. gif not mine
word cound: 2100
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"If any of you get boot prints on my tile, I swear to God…" you threaten weakly, kicking your shoes off at the door. The team knew better than to argue. You had saved their asses back at the warehouse breach–and unfortunately, you also took the brunt of the damage. Your head was throbbing, and your legs threatened to give out at any moment beneath you. The team had been successful with your help, but the attack was loud. They figured they'd lie low for a couple of days and let the smoke clear, but they needed a safe house. You debated it for a second before reluctantly telling the boys that you knew a place.
Unluckily for you, that place was your house.
The team silently marveled at your home. It seemed to be a perfect reflection of you but also not at the same time. For someone that claimed to be no frills, your couch sure did look fancy. But your collection of vinyls matched up with all the music recommendations you'd give them between missions. Soap geeked out over the movie posters you had framed around the living room, and Price squinted at your coffee table decor. He never took you for a candle person.
"Is that an original Back to the Future poster?" Soap asked in awe. 
"Mhm…" you mumble distantly, racking the fridge for food. You zone out on the bright lights of the fridge for a second before letting out a grim chuckle. Of course there was no food. You were barely ever in this house– if you kept food in the fridge, it would all go rotten. Seriously, how fucked up was your brain right now?
You decided to search for the pantry next. It was mostly empty, save for a few spices and boxes of tea here or there. Your eyes searched the shelves until you found what you were looking for: exactly five bowls of nearly expired Hot-and-Spicy ramen soup, which was just enough for you, Soap, Price, Gav, and Ghost. You thanked whatever higher power might exist out there as you stacked the bowls on top of each other, carrying them close to your chest to avoid dropping them.
"I have the finest delicacy here for you, boys," you say humorously. "Three Michelin stars,” you continue, earning a laugh from Soap and Gaz. You set the bowls down on the kitchen island, keeping one for yourself. You tear open the lid and untwist a water bottle cap, pouring the water up to the ridged line inside the bowl. After you poured the tiny packet of dehydrated vegetables and chicken, you stick it into the microwave and lean cross-armed on the kitchen island, waiting for the three minutes to pass. The rest dutifully follow your lead, taking turns with the microwave built into your kitchen and the other one that was plugged in on the counter. 
"Dinner" was eaten in relative silence. Not that anyone could hear anything anyways (you really needed to tell Soap to go easy on the frags before you all went deaf). You were too busy eating your soup to notice the team sneaking glances at each other and then at you, Ghost most of all.
After you all ate, you pointed everyone to their rooms. Soap went straight away, which is how you could tell he was really exhausted. Price and Gaz sat on the couch debriefing for a while before they headed to bed, too. Only you and Ghost were left. You were lying on the couch, half-tuned in to some old-time game show on the TV. Ghost sat on the loveseat to the right of you, polishing his gun and sneaking occasional glances at the TV—and at you. 
“Shit,” you exclaimed suddenly. Ghost halted his movements, watching as you got up to a sitting position, closing your eyes.
“What is it?” he asked you quietly, finger moving instinctively to the trigger.
“No, I’m fine. I just… I just remembered I have to wash my hair. It’ll be a fucking miracle if I don’t collapse in the shower,” you sighed. “It’s a whole process, and it’s gonna take forever, and it’s already late… I’d better start now,” you finish, rubbing your eyes.
Ghost sat for a moment, contemplating what you said.
“I’ll do it for you.”
“What?”
“I mean—only if you want. I could. Over the sink or... something.” It’s the first time you ever heard Ghost sound unsure of himself, and it completely threw you off.
“Are you... sure?” you ask, staring at him.
“Positive,” he replied, staring back.
“Okay… I’ll be right back,” you say, moving towards the stairs. Once you were in your bathroom, you grabbed everything you would need: a towel, shampoo, conditioner, and your beloved shampoo brush.
When you got back downstairs, you found Ghost ungloved and running water in the sink, absentmindedly touching his fingers to the stream of water as his eyes were fixed on the TV. It occurred to you that he was making sure the temperature of the water would be okay for you. You weren’t entirely sure why your stomach got light at the sight of it, but you stubbornly decided to ignore it.
“You ready?” he asked, eyeing all the stuff you were carrying. 
“Mhm,” you say, setting everything down on the counter. “I’ll just lie like this over the sink to make it easier for you,” you tell him, lying down and pulling your knees up on the unusually long kitchen island. The size of the island had been something that drew you to the house when you were house shopping, even though you weren’t home enough to cook on it.
“Is that a torture device?” Ghost said, jutting his chin at the shampoo brush sitting on the counter as he got your hair wet.
You laugh for the first time all day when your eyes land on what he’s gesturing at. “Far from it. You kinda just use it to get the shampoo into my scalp. Probably my favorite invention.”
“Your favourite invention?” Ghost repeated to you.
“Yeah. What’s yours?” you ask him. 
He’s silent for a minute as he squeezes the shampoo onto your hair and works it into a lather.
“Electric kettle,” he responds finally.
“You Brits and your tea,” you say fondly, laughing to yourself. Ghost let out a sound, and it took you a second before you realized he chuckled. He laughed. You had never heard him laugh before. You decided you liked the sound.
“What’s your favorite kind of tea, Ghost?” you ask, closing your eyes. He had started using the shampoo brush, and it felt like heaven. You could feel the grime and dried blood dislodging from your scalp; you didn’t even want to see what the sink looked like right now.
“Black tea, maybe earl gray. But I’m not picky,” he shrugged. His eyes narrowed at the nape of your neck where he saw a thin line of blood. 
“You have an interesting cut back here, Sparrow.” He started rinsing out the shampoo as he carefully moved your hair aside to examine it further.
“Well, shit,” you say, sighing louder than necessary. “How bad is it? Is it stitch-worthy? Am I gonna make it?” you ask sarcastically.
“No stitches. You’ll live. Unfortunately,” Ghost deadpans. You roll your eyes at him just as you notice his hands aren’t in your hair anymore. You turn your head to see him squinting at the conditioner bottle.
“The hell is this for?” he asked.
“The conditioner?” you replied incredulously. 
“I know what it is, it’s just—why is it separate?” 
You squint your eyes in thought, trying to understand what he meant when it suddenly clicked.
“Simon…” you say, a wicked grin spreading on your face as you move up to a sitting position, carful not to drip water everywhere. His eyes shot down to look at you. That got his attention. You almost never called him by his actual name. “Please don’t tell me you use it.”
“Use what?” Ghost pressed, getting mildly annoyed. Oh, how he wanted to wipe that stupidly adorable annoying smile off your face. He hated not being in on a joke, even if he rarely showed it.
“On today’s true crime episode,” you say, grabbing the conditioner bottle out of his hands to use as a makeshift microphone. He crosses his arms at your antics, seeming oblivious to the fact that he was getting water and eucalyptus-scented suds all over the arms of his uniform.
“We’re looking at one of the most prolific criminals out there, Lieutenant Ghost. It’s terrifying, it’s horrifying, it's downright disturbing. What are his crimes ,you ask? Using two-in-one… shampoo and conditioner,” you finish, lowering your voice for dramatic effect.
“Fucking hell,” Ghost rasps, voice tinged with exasperation. “Am I not supposed to?”
“No!” you whisper-shout, mindful of your sleeping teammates. “Shampoo strips all the oils from your hair and conditioner puts moisture back in! How could one product do that simultaneously? I mean, seriously, Ghost,” you say, squeezing a generous amount into the palm of your hand before smoothing it over your strands. “It’s common sense.”
“It’s not common sense. Tedious and unnecessary is what it is,” he replies gruffly, watching you put the conditioner on. “So what, you just–put it on, and… leave it there?”
“Yeah… I usually leave it in for 15 minutes while I do other stuff but I’ll just let it sit for a couple minutes since I’m-” you pause, yawning. “Tired.”
“Do you want me to wash it out for you?” he asks, his voice going unusually soft.
“Yes, please,” you responded, lying back down so your hair was over the edge of the sink again. 
His fingers thread through your hair, ridding it of the last traces of conditioner. You force your eyes closed, trying not to think about the fact that Ghost’s face was mere inches away from yours. You felt something cold brush by your face, and your eyes shoot open to see the gleam of his dog tags dangling over you.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, tucking them back into his uniform like it was nothing.
Like it didn’t just get your heart caught in your throat.
You can feel his hands wringing out the water in your hair, strong enough to get your hair dry but not strong enough to hurt you. In a final act of pure kindness, he takes the towel sprawled out on the counter and throws it over your head.
“Done,” he says nonchalantly, ignoring your muffled protests from under the towel. When you finally get the towel off and tie it around your hair, you see him standing by the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and watching you intently. Suddenly shy, you pull a stray blanket off of one of the chairs at the island and wrap yourself in it as makeshift armor from his icy gaze.
“You going to bed?” he asks as you walk up. You spin on your heel to look back down at where he’s still standing, arms crossed.
“No. I was actually just about to go for a six mile run,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “You should go to sleep too, Ghost. I could see your beady little eyes fighting to stay open at the dinner table.”
“My eyes are not beady.”
“Whatever. I’m going to bed. You can stay up until my neighbor's rooster Fish starts crowing if you like,” you say, fighting off another yawn.
“Your neighbor has a rooster named Fish?” he asks, amusement tinting his voice as he starts up the steps after you.
“Mr. Stricker is a strange man,” you reply. You’re met with a few seconds of silence as Ghost catches up to you.
“What do you call a fish wearing a bow tie?” he questions.
“Oh God.”
“Sofishticated,” he continues, not missing a beat. You were not expecting the laugh that erupts from your lips, and you clamp a hand over your mouth, wary of the rest of the team sleeping right above you. 
“That was so not funny,” you say, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to cover up your smile.
“Mhm. And yet you laughed,” Ghost replied. Even in the dim light, you can spot the glint in his eyes. You’d like to think that under his mask, he was smiling too. 
He fell into step with you now, his hands brushing against yours as you two made it up the rest of the stairs. There was plenty of room for both of you to walk without touching each other, but you didn’t pull your hand away.
Neither did he.
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judeswhore · 1 year
Text
i wanna kiss your lips; mason mount
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summary: your past relationships have been anything but giving and mason just has to change that
pairing: best friend!mason mount x fem!reader
warnings: smut, 18+, oral (f) receiving
notes: you can find my masterlist here. uhm surprise? this was a half finished piece in my drafts and i thought teehee maybe i’ll post so here she is
“you’ve never had an orgasm?” mason’s tone was one of complete disbelief, the look in his eyes a perfect match. he gazed at you from the other end of the sofa, the movie playing on his tv long since forgotten.
“well, i have by myself, but not with anyone else.”
“never?”
“nope.”
“not even josh?” you snorted at this, gazed into the bowl of popcorn on your lap in search of a piece that looked extra sweet. mason was watching you with furrowed brows, his body turned to face yours, one arm against the back of the sofa. there was a pillow in his lap and he picked at a loose piece of thread.
“especially not josh.” you shrugged like it was nothing, curling your feet up under yourself as you matched his position. you stared at him head on, even as you spoke the next few words. “most guys only care about getting themselves off, half the time they can’t even tell if you’ve finished or not. they fuck you and take what they want and that’s it, sometimes it’s too much effort and to them where’s the fun in that?”
“too much effort?” mason was perplexed. too much effort is not a phrase he would use in regards to making his girl cum, in fact that was the best part, the fun part. drawing it out as long as possible, edging them with your fingers and tongue until they’re begging and falling apart from one simple touch. to him, sex is boring if the foreplay isn’t drawn out and full of teasing.
“it takes a while for me. i can’t-“ you shrugged again, heat blossoming over your skin because why were you talking about this with mason? the boy who’d put worms in your sandwiches when you were little? your friendship was open and carefree and yeah you’d often discussed your sex lives but this felt like a step too far. but you’d already started now, what would be the point in stopping. “i can’t just cum in two minutes. it takes more than just a couple fingers or whatever and the guys i’ve been with found that tiring. who wants to be with a girl who’s wound so tight it takes her forever to cum? they usually try for a few minutes, get bored and sometimes a little annoyed so i fake it, we fuck, they leave. i’ve learnt to take care of myself once they’re gone.”
you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten on to that topic, you’d been talking about your ex being back in town and one thing led to another until you were confessing your deepest, darkest secrets. well, it wasn’t exactly deep or dark but it was definitely a secret. twenty three years old and you were yet to find a man who could make you finish, over dramatic moans and fake orgasms had long since become your closest friend. it was this confession, and your best friends need to be good at everything, that had landed you in a pretty surprising position.
naked in his bed.
“y’can tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” mason was settled between your legs, his mouth hot on the inside of your thigh and all you could do was nod. you swallowed thickly, hands pressed into the soft cotton of his bedsheets because you didn’t know where else to put them. mason’s hair looked inviting but you were nervous, afraid you’d pull too hard, worried he might not like having the soft strands yanked. that on top of you usual anxieties over not being able to cum had your heart pounding in your chest. your best friend was no idiot and he could sense your inner turmoil from a mile away.
he propped himself up on his elbows and kissed your knee.
“tell me this is okay. if it’s not we can stop, pretend it never happened.”
“no,” you shook your head rather aggressively. mason hadn’t even touched you yet and you were soaked, wound up simply by thinking about what he was going to do to you. not a single part of you wanted him to stop. “this is okay.”
“yeah? you’re sure?”
“positive.” he blew out a soft breath, a half laugh, that hit your pussy, made you clench around nothing. you might find it difficult coming at the hands of someone else but you were always extra sensitive. the fact that this was mason was somehow intensifying that.
“good because i really wanna eat you out.” you had no reply for that but he didn’t seem to mind, he was kissing your thigh again, trailing his mouth to that hot spot between your legs but never actually touching you. he switched to your other thigh, nipped and sucked until you were shifting impatiently, subtly lifting your hips closer to his mouth.
“mason.”
“shh, m’taking my time. this is what you deserve.” he pressed a hand to your stomach to hold you down, his other hand hooking under your knee, pushing outward to open you up for him. you were completely on show to him, every inch of you and despite that initial anxiety, a larger part of you felt like this was meant to be. there was no one who made you feel safer than mason.
he kissed your hip, nuzzled his nose against the soft skin of your thigh before his mouth hovered over your pussy. his gaze flicked up to yours, a gentle smile curving his lips.
“you’re so beautiful, baby.” it took everything in you not to buck towards his mouth, your fingers twisting into the sheets. his smile turned dirty in an instant. “got the prettiest pussy, gonna treat her right, yeah? gonna show you how good it feels.” you could only nod, tummy twisting at his words. dirty talk always got you off, pushed you closer to that edge but again, some guys just don’t do it right. you could already tell this wasn’t going to be a problem with mason.
the second his tongue touched you a shaky breath blew past your lips, your eyes falling closed. he licked a single broad stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, tongue flat to cover as much of you as possible. he repeated the motion, humming at the taste of you, cleaning up the wetness that had gathered just from his proposition. the kiss he pressed to your clit had your thighs tensing beneath his hands.
“taste so good, sweetheart.” he teased the tip of his tongue against your hole, dipped inside just slightly before he was licking through your folds again. at your clit he stopped, pointed his tongue and repeatedly flicked over the swollen bud, grinning at the high pitched whine it pulled from you. “yeah? like that?”
“yeah, i-“
“shh, it’s okay, just relax for me.” mason’s hand smoothed over your thigh, pressed you open a little more and went back to flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. pleasure was curling low at the base of your spine, the very first sparks of fire. this was usually as far as it would get, your orgasm would build halfway before fizzling out of reach.
his lips closed around your clit, sucked softly until your hips were lifting off the bed, bucking towards his mouth and he was chuckling low in the back of his throat. the sound vibrated through you, made you half choke on a whimper, your fingers pulling at the sheets. he pulled back and kissed the skin around your pussy, ignored the parts which were begging for him. his hand was suddenly reaching for yours, fingers soft around your wrist as he pried yours from the sheets and guided them to his head. he pushed until your fingers threaded through the soft strands of hair.
“want you to tug on my hair, not my sheets.” you couldn’t reply because he was buried back between your thighs, tongue running through your folds, licking at your clit, pressing just slightly inside you before retreating again. he kept the pressure on your clit light, just bordering on teasing and it was driving you insane, the steady build up of pleasure growing heavier.
with your hands in his hair you pushed, urged him to increase the pressure. he caught on almost immediately, swirled his tongue around it before flicking back and forth, your mouth dropping open on a quiet moan. that moan turned into a soft yelp when his teeth grazed your clit. it was a foreign feeling but one that had you gushing with even more arousal.
“don’t hold back, i want you to be loud. want my neighbours to know how good i’m giving it to you.” you made some unintelligible sound, tugging a little at his hair in acknowledgment and mason sucked your clit in reply. he suctioned it into his mouth with a deep groan and your orgasm creeped a little bit closer. at this point, your past partners would have given up, would have huffed in annoyance until you faked your orgasm and they could fuck you.
mason, however, had lost no momentum and was showing no signs of letting up, his attention to your pussy and your reactions to his mouth keeping him going. he’d caught on that you liked teasing just a little, that you liked when he worked you to a point with the tip of his tongue before flattening it and letting it fizzle out. that was what drew out your orgasm, time and teasing. you were a wet mess, dripping down on to his sheets, stickying your thighs and the lower half of his face and you whined loudly when he pressed his tongue into your hole.
his nose bumped your clit repeatedly from the position, your pussy clenching with need and you couldn’t help the harsh yank to his hair.
“oh my god, fuck. don’t-don’t stop.” your head tipped back, a string of moans and curses falling past your lips as mason continued fucking you with his tongue. each time his nose rubbed over your clit a desperate whimper fell from you, your grip on his hair tight enough that it bordered on painful. he pulled back, gave one large lick up your pussy before meeting your gaze.
“tell me what you need.” you blinked at him, trying to clear the fog in your head. you were already so close, a feeling you’d never felt with anyone else bubbling in your tummy but even you knew you still needed a little bit more. true, you could probably cum from mason’s tongue alone if he kept going, but you wanted just that little bit more. you brushed his hair back with your fingers, focused your gaze on his mouth, lips plump and glistening and there was an overwhelming need to kiss him.
you were aware the two of you had crossed a line in your friendship, had done something you couldn’t come back from. but this was sex. unfeeling, detached, a transaction of sorts. mason can prove you can cum with other people, you get an orgasm when you’d only been expecting a movie and popcorn tonight. but kissing was different. kissing meant something to you and you couldn’t kiss him and move on. something at the back of your mind suggested you weren’t going to be able to move on from this, but that was for future you to worry about. right now you just wanted to cum.
“fingers, i want your fingers.” it was breathless, your voice broken and scratchy from your keening moans and whines. mason cocked his head, grinning slowly as he bent his head and kissed just above your clit.
“yeah? want me to fuck you open with them? bet i can have you coming in minutes, baby.” he shifted between your legs and brought his hand up, middle and pointer finger settling in front of your mouth. his grin turned into a smirk, eyes sparkling with heated lust. “be a good girl and get them nice and wet for me.” you were quick to do as you were told, lips wrapping around his fingers, tongue swirling around them until they were coated in saliva. you let them go with a dramatic pop, not once breaking eye contact, even as mason settled back between your thighs.
your legs had closed slightly and he nudged them back open with a chastising nip to the soft skin. the tips of his fingers teased your hole, circled it for a second as his gaze locked on your pussy.
“you’re making a mess of my sheets.” there was nothing to say to that and so you simply let your head fall back on to the pillow, eyes closing again when he pressed both fingers into you. he moved slowly, let your walls relax around him before he hooked them up and slowly retreated. “god, you’re so fucking tight, don’t even think my cock would fit.” it was a throwaway comment, actual sex wasn’t on the table but his words still made you clench, the thought of him burying himself inside you pulling a high pitched whine from your throat.
“make me cum, please. i wanna cum.”
“i know, sweetheart, i’m gonna, just enjoy it.” he started fucking you slowly, fingers pressing against all of your sensitive parts, hitting deeper than yours ever could. the thumb on his other hand had found your clit and was rubbing tight circles over it, the trembles in your thighs an indication to you both that you were hurtling towards the edge. the wet sounds of your pussy and mason’s low praises broke through your constant string of moans and whimpers. “that’s it. taking it so good, babe, look at you. pussy’s just begging me to fuck her, you’re squeezing me so tight.”
his tongue was on your clit again, flicking over it to match the pace and rhythm of his fingers and each time they hooked inside of you, you tipped a little bit closer. your clit was swollen and throbbing beneath his tongue, the feeling intensifying when he sucked it between his lips. he hummed against, thrust his fingers in a little harder, stretching you open to a point you wished it was his cock filling you up.
“such a pretty girl, you gonna cum for me? come on, i wanna feel it.” fingers in his hair, you pulled a little harder, legs starting to shake and your orgasm was only inches out of reach. the pads of his fingers repeatedly bullied into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the feeling so intense tears had gathered on your lash line as your mouth dropped open, moans and whimpers of mason’s name filling the air.
“m’so close, mase, it feels so good.”
“mhm, being such a good girl, fuck i wish i could stay here all night.” you whined, back arching off the bed and his free hand had to press you back down, applying the slightest bit of pressure to your lower tummy. he could tell how close you were, knew your orgasm was just dangling out of reach and he took a chance as he pulled his lips from you clit. “play with your tits for me, babe.”
half delirious you did as told, one hand still tugging at mason’s hair but the other moved up to cup your boob, squeezing and massaging the way you did when you were alone. praises filtered up from between your legs and then he was back to tonguing your clit, his fingers fucking you a little harder. you pinched your nipple and mason crooked his fingers and your orgasm hit you like a wave.
a high pitched moan, one that definitely sounded like a cry, fell from your lips as your back lifted off the mattress, fingers tangled so tight in mason’s hair it was a miracle you hadn’t pulled any out. your pussy clenched so tight around his fingers, slick walls hugging them back in each time he pulled them out, working you through the most intense orgasm of your life. mason kept muttering praises the whole time, telling you how good you did, how pretty you were, how badly he wants to fuck you until you cry.
it takes a few moments, a couple slow pumps of his fingers and ever slower laps of his tongue before the waves of pleasure die down and the roaring in your ears subsides. you’d gushed around his fingers, made a mess of him and the bed but he didn’t seem to mind, eagerly cleaning you up with broad licks when he finally pulled his fingers free. you were too sensitive, clit pulsing and with a shake of your head you pushed at mason’s forehead, whimpering quietly when he pressed a final kiss to the little bud.
he sat back on his knees, watched you through hooded eyes as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, licked them clean of your cum while you watched with a heaving chest. your body was on fire, pussy sensitive but somehow feeling empty now and it was difficult to miss the bulge in mason’s joggers. he drew his fingers from his lips and flopped down beside you, his shoulder warm against your bare skin.
“so, how was that for a first orgasm?”
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whoreteen · 1 year
Text
Lick!
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you and Seokmin have a weekly routine — watching crappy movies together, cuddling and pining after each other. of course, neither of you have the guts to make the first move. that is until you decide to deepthroat a popsicle during movie night l, teasing Seokmin until he loses all self control; which essentially is your ultimate goal.
☼ word count: 3k ☼ pairing: dk x fem reader ☼ genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, roommate!au ☼ warnings: food play, degradation, praise kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, use of pet names. lmk if i missed anything
m.list | ☕️ | feedback | minors dni | if you read it & enjoy it, reblog it
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You know exactly how to rile your roommate, Seokmin, up and you’re always doing it on purpose. He knows it, you know it and, you love every second of it.
He usually plays along with you, but you never goes past just flirting.
Admittedly, you want more, a part of you wants him to give you what you want, yet all he does is tease back to frustrate you. You crave more, you need more — so you figure what better way to shoot your shot than during movie night when you’re all cuddled up?
Seokmin comes back from the kitchen, handing you a popsicle and a bowl of popcorn before taking a seat right next to you.
“What movie did you pick?”
“Troll 2,” you reply, silently thanking him for the snacks you specifically asked for as he scoots closer to you, pushing his own popsicle into his mouth.
He smiles with a happy hum as the cherry flavor melts into his mouth before getting comfy on the couch, and putting a blanket on you.
You try to ignore the electricity pulsing in your body when he slides a hand under your shirt and rubs small, soothing circles into your skin, causing sparks to erupt all over your skin. Seokmin always has his way of doing this to you — effortlessly making your heart flutter and hammer in your chest when he’s not even trying to. Electricity and such desire you just can’t to turn a blind eye to no matter how hard you seem to try.
Not even minutes later, you catch yourself staring up at the pretty boy beside you instead of paying attention to the movie. You’re too busy stealing glances at him and it doesn’t calm your heart when you catch him doing the same to you, his eyes lingering for moments longer than they shouldn’t have. You immediately look away and gaze ahead at the screen, pretending to watch the movie.
A soft chuckle leaves Seokmin’s lips and you look up at him, confused. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he beams, lightly shaking his head. “You’re just cute.”
You raise a perfectly arched eyebrow at his words, a mischievous smile on your lips a few seconds after. Sure, you love it when he calls you cute but it’s not what you want to hear right now. You want him so deep in your guts and you want him to think you’re hot, sexy, tempting.
Unbeknownst to you, the feelings are very mutual.
Of course you don’t know how huge of crush Seokmin has on you or how attracted he is to you. But, you do know he has an oral fixation as he always seems to stare at your mouth when he thinks you’re not aware; you intend to take advantage of that.
The only thing on your mind right now is to see how far you can take teasing him before he (hopefully) decides to fuck your brains out.
Smirking to yourself, you begin slurping on your popsicle, innocently, but enough to make him look as you continue to ‘focus’ on the movie.
You can feel his heated eyes on you. In all honesty, you’re sure you look tempting; you’re even more sure when you feel shifting in his seat and his hand slowly tracing its way down to your hips. His eyes are inevitably drawn down to mouth, burning with something. And, you know what they say: eyes never lie.
You continue your sinful actions, paying him no mind, and he intensely watches the ice pop slide into your mouth and then out, as it is his dick.
Your lips envelop the cherry flavored popsicle, red and lustrous as you push it further into your waiting mouth. You suck at it chastely before getting a bit sloppy, even letting some drops fall on your exposed cleavage and, Seokmin can’t help but lick his lips — wanting so badly to lick the drops from your skin.
“My eyes are up here you know,” you tease, and before he can respond, you pull the popsicle in and out of your mouth a few times, a long trail of melted flavored cherry, and saliva following.
Your roommate blinks once. Twice. “W-what?” he asks, taken by surprise.
“You’re staring, Seokmin,” you quip between popsicle licks.
“What’s the matter, baby? You’re blushing and stuttering,” you coo, nonchalantly pulling the popsicle out of your mouth with a pop. Seokmin feels his cock twitch when he’s sees the spit string. It’s almost downright obscene and he can’t help but bite his lip. There’s just no way you’re not aware of what you’re doing to him and, it takes everything in Seokmin’s willpower to not pin you down on the couch and, have his way with you.
He hums absentmindedly, still carelessly staring at your mouth and pouty lips. You have a straight up filthy look in your eyes, and Seokmin can feel himself getting lightheaded as the blood from his brain rushes to his dick.
He swallows a large lump in his throat before speaking, “I can’t help it,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Fuck. Stop that.”
Staring into his eyes, you have to stop the overwhelming urge to lean in for kiss. “You don’t like it?”
“Stupid question. Of course I do,” he scoffs. It’s so easy to rile him up. “You look so sexy sucking on that but it’s not good for my heart. If you keep teasing me like this, I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”
Every time your tongue darts out to lick at the treat, he feels his cock twitch and his heart swell. All he wants is to grab that popsicle and replace it with his cock; fuck your face as his dick slips past those pretty soft, little lips so fucking badly.
“If you’re horny, just tell me.”
He sucks in a breath. “I am. Wanna fuck?”
“Perv!”
“Says the one deepthroating an ice pop,” he scoffs.
“I’m not,” you retort, as you give another lick to your popsicle, considering your next move. “Let me show you how deepthroating is really done.”
You don’t have to contemplate for long as you take the whole thing in your mouth, red tinted, wet lips wrapped around it. You begin deepthroating it, imagining it’s his cock as you moan around the ice pop.
You stop for a moment, licking your lips, and open your mouth to say, “Come on, Seok, use your words and tell me what you want.”
“You,” he finally replies like it’s so obvious, sending even more electric shocks to your center. “I want you.”
“Hmm,” you tease with a smirk. “I gotta say, I really wish I had something better to lick than this popsicle.”
“Yeah? Wanna suck my cock the same way?” he purrs.
You nod your head, continuing your ministrations.
“What a fucking whore,” he groans as he cups your cheek and lets his thumb run across it slowly. “You planned this, didn’t you? Are you that desperate for my cock?”
“I’ve always wanted to climb you like a tree since the first day, so yes, definitely.”
Seokmin traces your lips with his thumb, teasing you a little before finally replacing the ice pop with one of his long fingers, and then another, sliding them in your mouth.
“I bet you’d love me to fuck that pretty face of yours,” he rasps. “You’d take it like the little whore you know you are, wouldn’t you, angel?”
You nod vigorously as you begin sucking on his digits, gently hollowing your cheeks.
He lets out a groan, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches you drool all over his fingers. “Fuck, I’m going to ruin you.”
You have to swallow back your whimper.
“God, you’re so—” he starts, his moist fingers gently running over your wet, parted lips, your cheeks, down your neck, pausing to hold your throat, “so fucking perfect. You have no idea how much I want to kiss you,” he groans before placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, officially stalling your little brain. “I wanted to fuck you since the first time I met you.”
One of his fingers traces down the side of your face, making your eyelids flutter. The gentle, sweet touch to your skin instantly makes your cheeks heat up — his words, though, sends shivers down your spine and you feel a tinge of heat in your core.
Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he yanks your head back before swooping in to lick a long stripe up your neck. Your only response is a moan.
“What, cat got your tongue?” he teases as he places open mouthed kisses to your neck, making sure to leave hickeys. “You were acting like such a brat with all that teasing. Not so brave now, hmm?”
You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, your brain going all mushy. Seokmin finally kisses you and you feel yourself get dizzy and completely lost in him, not able to bring yourself to process his words in time to react properly as he bites on your bottom lip lightly.
Once he pulls away, you’re the same color as your half eaten popsicle, cherry red.
It only take a couple seconds before Seokmin stops fighting the urge to push you down on the couch, and pin your hands above your head as his frame hovers above you. His lips melts against yours in yet another kiss as he kisses you sloppily, the taste of cherry lingering in your mouths, both your popsicles and the movie long forgotten.
He breaks the kiss not long after, trailing soft, loving kisses from the corner of your lips to your cheek, before asking, “Are you sure about this?” His voice changes drastically to a soft tone, fondness and pure love showing in his actions.
You whine some sort of yes, finding yourself chasing his lips and Seokmin can’t help but beam in delight.
“Good, because I’ve never want to fuck you more than I do now.”
He pulls you in for a kiss and you try your best to regulate your breathing, but when he groans into the kiss and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, all you see is red. You roll your hips into him and Seokmin lets out a grunt as his grip strengthens on your hip in response.
He lets his body grind down hard against you as he surges forward to kiss you harder with greedy lips, almost bruising. The kiss is messy, urgent, and intimate in a way you just can’t explain. It is way too eager and desperate for being a first kiss between the two of you, but, in Seokmin’s eyes it was bound to happen. He’s been anticipating this ever since he first laid eyes on you.
You feel his erection straining against his boxers as he guides your hips to align against his own, grinding against you. You feel yourself yourself growing with want.
“Seokmin,” you whine, your voice breathy as you give him that delectable bambi eyed look. “Touch me.”
He looks down, meeting your hazy and glossy eyes that spell nothing but intense desire and want. “Can I?”
You think your knees may give out as you squirm against his hold. “Please. I want you so bad.”
You feel his long fingers run across your inner thigh, dipping so close to your sensitive heat, where you most need him, and you can’t help but push your hips forward for more. Seokmin huffs a brief chuckle, gently tracing his fingers across your covered, twitching clit before finally pushing your panties to the side and pushing one finger in, then another.
He can’t help but groan at the fact that you’re already so wet, and so ready for him that he almost snaps. “Fuck, baby, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”
A loud gasp leaves your mouth, making Seokmin smile.
“Like that, huh?” he teases lightly as he skilfully curls his digits, adding a third finger whilst he whispers words of encouragement and praises you. “Does it feel good?”
You moan and Seokmin feels his cock twitch in his boxers at the little, soft noises escaping you and the way your toes curl. “S-so good. Please, don’t stop.”
“Such a desperate little slut, aren’t you?” he tsks. “Look at you, already pushing back against my fingers. How fucking pathetic.”
You arch your back and let out a whine when he slaps your swollen clit with his fingers, once, then twice before beginning to pump his fingers with more force, curling them. “Aw, my pretty baby’s already whining? I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
Teasing you like this has always been on Seokmin’s mind, but never did he didn’t think you would want to take it this far. God, how he wishes he can take a mental image of this moment.
He starts leaving wet kisses down to your collarbone and between your breasts, his scent and airy tone invading every inch of your shaky frame. You feel his free hand travelling around your body to unhook your bra so that your breasts are exposed to his lustful gaze.
Seokmin cups your breast with his free hand, grazing his thumb over the nub which earns him a needy whine. As he moves his fingers around your walls, his fingertips grazing your g-spot, you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. You feel like you’re on cloud nine. It feels too good to be a true, and if this is a dream, you don’t ever wanna wake up.
Moving his lips downwards, he takes one nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking until you’re putty in his hands. Then he shifts his attention to the other breast, loving the way your fingers run through his hair, tugging gently whenever he hits a particularly sensitive spot.
You moan in delight as your back arches off the couch, wanting more. “S-Seokmin, please, I want more.”
Hearing you ask so nicely makes him smirk. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re needy.”
He presses a gentle kiss on your lips before scooting down your body and settling between your legs. His warm hands run up your thigh and hikes your skirt up to your waist, placing one of your legs on his shoulder. You can’t help but cover your face in embarrassment.
“No no, I want to see you, baby, don’t cover your face,” he says, his voice holding a certain degree of authority that makes you stop in your tracks. He places gentle, soft kisses on your inner thigh, before cooing, “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”
You don’t need to hear it. You already know he will.
Seokmin reaches to pull your underwear down, discarding it somewhere over his shoulder before reaching for the half-melted popsicle. He slowly runs it along your thigh to start, not wanting to startle you too much as praises you with soothing licks.
“You’re so beautiful…” he praises, his voice impossibly deep, almost a growl as he disappears between your legs. “All flushed and spread out like this. Just for me… Let me see those pretty eyes.”
You bite your lip harshly, trying your best to stop yourself from screaming when you feel his mouth on your clit. The combination of Seokmin’s warm tongue and the cold popsicle is unlike anything you’re experienced and your hips can’t help but buck off the couch, but Seokmin pins you down with his hand.
“You taste like fucking candy,” he groans against your heat. “I could eat you out all day and night.”
He continues licking and kissing your wet folds, pressing the popsicle against your clit as his fingers curl in search of your sweet spot. He knows he has found it when you begin spasming underneath him, your legs shaking uncontrollably as your wetness easily coats his fingers, only encouraging him to move faster.
As he pushes his face further into your cunt, he tries his best to gain some sort of control, ignoring the intrusive thoughts of his cock inside you, filling you up just right.
“S-seok, fuck, right there,” you nearly scream, Seokmin revelling in your noises as he pairs his curling fingers with the popsicle, wrapping his lips around your clit.
“Feels good? You sound so prettily.”
Each lick and each thrust of his fingers causes you to lose track of time and space and you can’t help but feel the tears pooling in your eyes. “God, yes, it feel s-so good. Keep going just like t-that.”
Seokmin eagerly obliges, his entire arm pumping as he presses his fingers harder and faster into your g-spot whilst he sucks harshly on your clit with his skilled tongue, slurping up the melted popsicle juice mixed with your arousal.
“Don’t cum yet, baby.”
You cry out in pleasure and start to babble incoherently, turning into a crying mess as he sucks on your clit like a lollipop, until you begin to shake, quivering uncontrollably as you scream his name like a mantra. You’re immensely grateful for the grip he has on you as your knees are on the verge of giving out.
“You’re doing so good, baby girl, you look so pretty for me. Just keep going like this, okay angel?” he whispers breathily, his fingers and tongue begins to match the pace of your rocking hips.
“S-Seok, nngh fuck,” you cry, twitching as he leaves bite marks alongside the many other bruises that litter your body from his mouth. “Please, please, please, can I cum?” you whimper, not caring how pathetic you must sound; the only thing that’s on your mind right now is your release. “I-I want to, fuck, cum s-so bad.”
“Then cum,” he says and that’s all it takes, your orgasm hitting you so hard as you let out a broken moan.
Seokmin helps you ride out your intense orgasm, and he moans, huskily at that, against your heat upon seeing your tear stained face. “Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.”
He doesn’t stop though, continuing to suck and lick your sensitive nub and devouring you faster until you’re practically shaking. Your back arches as Seokmin draws out your orgasm for as long as he can until you come for a second time.
Then he gazes up at up, a mixture of your arousal and his spit glistening on his chin and dripping down his defined jaw as he removes his fingers and cleans the them with his mouth, groaning at your sweet taste.
“My turn?” he asks teasingly.
And, who are you to deny such a heartfelt request. “Your wish is my command.”
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howlyourmelancholy · 7 months
Text
Three of a Perfect Pair
summary: in which you're invited to join.
warnings: reader is invited for a moment into wolfstar's relationship. not poly!marauders. threesome. mentions of a posessive sirius. hinted at remus being the dom.
words: 665.
notes: honestly i'm a little disappointed in myself with this one. it just doesn't feel as good as earlier works and i think that's because i've been sick.
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This was not what you’d expected when the boys first approached you. Both Remus and Sirius seemed so confident in themselves and secure in their relationship, and the thought of them inviting a third person, let alone you, seemed entirely insane. You knew that Sirius and Remus were wildly possessive of each other, but they'd insisted it was okay, and you'd agreed.
The rules were made perfectly clear—you weren't to be intimate with either of them unless the other was present. You weren't to flirt with them or touch them without the others explicit permission. And you weren't dating them. And that was fine.
But this, your current circumstance with the two boys, was not at all what you'd been expecting; in fact, it exceeded your expectations. Remus had laid himself on the bed, demanding that you both straddle him—Sirius on his waist and you on his face. It amazed you how talented Remus was and how he could split his focus so beautifully between the two of you.
His wicked tongue snacked between your slick folds, prodding at your hole with expertise, making you gasp into Sirius’ kiss. Remus grabbed your hips to pull you against his mouth as Sirius slowly seated himself on his cock, causing both of your lips to part in breathy moans felt against the others tongues. Sirius looked like a beautiful piece of art, with his lips parted and his inky-black hair a mess, as he took every inch of his lover while his own cock bobbed beautifully against his stomach.
You wanted to take him in your hands to feel how hard he was beneath your fingers. You wanted to take him in your mouth until the wiry black hairs at the base of his cock tickled your nose. You could do neither. Sirius fisted a hand in your hair to cement your mouth to his so that he could kiss you as though it were his last night on earth.
It was messy— with open mouth, teeth, tongue, and saliva. You weren't going to complain, not when Remus’ tongue was driving you closer and closer to orgasm in record time. Sirius fondled you without shame or hesitation, touching here, there, and everywhere he could reach, paying special attention to your nipples as he pawed your breasts with heavy hands.
Unable to help yourself, you reached out and wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him with slow, firm flicks of your wrist while Remus' thrust into him. He felt like iron beneath your fingers, impossibly hard. You were both lost, entirely under Remus' control. You cried out when the boy's tongue pushed through your folds and into your hole, causing your thighs to shudder and shake around his head.
"T-here!"
Your voice was muffled by Sirius' tongue in your mouth, but Remus understood and prodded with his tongue again, hitting the same spot again and again. You braced a hand against his abdomen, which dipped beneath your touch as pleasure rippled through him in time with both of yours.
“Oh, fuck!” Sirius gasped against your lips.
If all of your senses weren't heightened and drawn so tight within your body, you would have been embarrassed about how quickly you came—a record time, to be sure. Had it been five minutes? More or less? It truly didn't matter. White-hot pleasure lashed through your body, starting in your toes and crawling up your spine until it was pouring from your mouth and into Sirius', where it retraced its path down his spine.
Fireworks exploded like the Fourth of July behind your closed eyelids. But it wasn’t just fireworks. It was like shooting stars and meteor showers, and the northern lights were dancing through your veins, setting your whole body alight.
You felt Sirius twitch beneath your fingers, felt Remus’ stomach dip beneath your hand, and felt him groan against your cunt, as they followed swiftly behind you, hurting towards their own release like a train with its breaks cut.
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yarrystyleeza · 23 days
Note
Happy birthday tomorrow Yuna! Hope you'll have an amazing day ❤️❤️
As for a request... When I saw you would write for Daryl, I knew I had to send you something. Season 1 and 2 Daryl lives rent free in my mind, so can I please request:
"when they tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you talk" and "brushing against each other, even if there is enough room"
Thank you in advance and again, Happy birthday 😁❤️🎉
Awww thank you my love, sorry for answering this late, hope you didn't mind it, it was stupid of me! 😅💖💖💖
I was stuck with the plot of the request for the last two months until last night, I literally wrote this in less than 10 hours lol 🤣🤣🤣 hope you enjoy it, though, and sorry for keeping you hanging! 💖💖💖 You're so welcome and thank you for dropping this request and for the birthday wishes! 🥰🥰🥰
Little Things (D.D)
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Requested by @munsonownsmyass
Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female! reader, idiots in love
Prompt: fluff, s1!s2!Daryl, tucking hair behind ear, brushing against each other even if there's enough room + petnames for the cherry on top!
Word count: 1.4k!
Writer's note: I loved writing this one so much! As you lily, season one and two Daryl is my favorite Daryl era (beside S8). Not 100% proofread but I hope you really enjoy it, have a great day! <3
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"Hurt y'self, little thin'?" He teased, watching you lying on the forest bed after your foot faltered and slipped you into the bottom of the hill. Your brows knitted, you rolled your eyes, he chuckled at the face you made, "alright, I'm comin'."
He slides down, smoothly, and a little bit pompously—with a smirk on his face. You can't lie—he made you smile though you desperately wanted to punch him right in the face.
He offered his hand to you and you accepted his help. At first, he let you wrap your arm around his neck as he walked you towards the hill exit—but as it turns out, you sprained your ankle so bad it was impossible for you to take another step. He scooped you in his arms and carried you back to the quarry.
And that's how you met Daryl.
You can't admit he wasn't a pain in the ass most of the time—if not always, getting on your nerves and driving you up the wall, it was so constant you started thinking he was doing it on purpose.
It kinda was. Daryl had serious troubles with conveying his emotions, and that idiot had a sickening crush on you ever since he saw you at the camp with the girls. He wanted your attention and he only got it when he drove you mad, so he tooled it in his advantage.
You were his favorite. You're the only one he talks to—other than his brother, Merle—and you, too, are the only one who wants to talk to him.
You too had a crush on him. His silly fights and bickering became more amusing to you—sometimes you couldn't even contain the smile drawn across your face when he's mad about something so stupid and could be fixed in complete silence, and when you gave him your smug face—it always drove him insane. You learnt he's quick-tempered, but these ones were visibly made up just to get a chance to be with you.
Daryl reminded you of those little boys in the playground when they used to ruin the girls' sand castles or pull their braids and ribbons just to get their attention. Ever since you came up to this conclusion—life has never been easier!
But things changed a little bit after the attack on the quarry. Daryl turned from only being a hot-headed idiot to be completely protective of you, but that doesn't mean he stopped getting angry—God forbid he does! But he got more reasonable and collected—around you, at least.
As soon as you got to the CDC, he grew closer to you, more friendly, more worried, more caring. He barely slept the night you spent there, checking on you every thirty minutes to make sure you don't need anything—despite you being a wall apart. It was adorable, and it stirred something in you.
Same night at dinner, right before you went to bed, he sat beside you as you dined, he made sure your plate was full and that you'd eaten well because 'it's been a while since you got a decent meal', he says.
And in the middle of the chaos the following morning—he solely cared for you, and not a thing was going to stop him from smashing Dr. Jenner's head that morning if it wasn't for you calming him down.
The two of you escaped in his pickup truck. But despite the horror you had just fled, you couldn't stop stealing glances at each other, Daryl was focused on driving but you spotted him staring at you with soft eyes a couple of times. Both of you blushed, multiple times—vividly, but you couldn't stop. Something was so amusing and sweet about the way he was looking at you, and you were so tempting to him he could stop staring at you even if he wanted to.
Now, staying at Hershel's farmhouse, Daryl turned out to be that sweet lovey dovey guy who'd absolutely melt under your touch—in complete opposite to the face he's been showing to everyone.
As you went out to search for Sophia, Daryl offered to accompany you. He kept brushing arms with you, pumping into your side, and gently holding your biceps to guide you as you walked. He kept putting himself between you and any threat, not letting you shed a drop of sweat—you were almost a passenger princess, but on foot.
But it was very obvious the night he got shot—your heart dropped when it happened, and when you learned it was your Daryl and not some misinformation. You couldn't watch as they took the bullet out, you couldn't watch him screaming in agony—yet you heard him from behind the door. It tore your heart into pieces.
The night fell as you sat on the chair next to his bed, your head dripping every couple minutes as you drifted in and out of sleep. Your head was heavy as a rock sinking in the ocean—yet you kept fighting Mr. Sandman back, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes and patting your face.
"Go to bed, pet," he softly demanded, "ye're tired from sittin' here all day," he extended an arm, gently placing it on your thigh and squeezing it chastely, "ya need some rest."
You shook your head, "I'm fine, Daryl," you shrugged, "it's not like it's the first time I stay up late."
Both of you stay silent, staring at each other with soft eyes. "Climb up in 'ere," Daryl says, his voice was tinted with plead "at least you won't have to keep droppin' yer head like a sippy chicken."
"No, Daryl," you shook your head in utter refusal, desperately trying to show him how awake you are despite craving a warm bed, "you need your own space. What if I accidentally hit your wound--"
"Come on, pet, you know you won't..." he softly smiles, shaking his head. You sigh and climb into the bed with him and he shares his blanket with you. He turns to face you, the moonlight is perfectly casted upon your faces, his blue eyes sparkled and reflected you like a looking glass. He grazes your cheek, tucking your stray hair back behind your ear and his fingertips linger on the skin of your neck.
"Get some sleep, love," he caresses your hair, "I won't need nothin' when ye're right next to me."
You woke up tangled up in his chest, it was warm and peaceful. You never wanted to slip out of his arms—if it wasn't for Hershel coming over to check on him and the men accompanying him.
Daryl got better as the days gone by. You started to see him in the kitchen fetching some biscuits or chips, he'd pump into you on his way out, brushing arms with you and glancing at you with his blueies and a smile. And if he's in the right mood, he'd take you off guard and peck your cheek, and you'd turn red and try to bite your smile. He caught it had quite the right effect on you, and he's been doing it ever since.
"Let it down, pumpkin," Daryl flirts as he snatches the scrunchie out of your hand as you tried to tie your hair, "love it when it's coverin' yer pretty face, gives me a reason to keep tuckin' it back."
"But we're going on a mission," you protest, "it would be dangerous for both of us!"
Daryl takes a run around the golden field and you chase him—but he overpowers you and you stop running, panting and clutching your chest as he giggles. He mischievously walks back closer to you, so you try to take it back, but he's taller than you, stretching his hand up with your scrunchie and shaking it to tease you. "Ya ain't tiein' it today, darlin'."
"Give it back!" you giggle as you jump to reach for your scrunchie, but he keeps stretching his arm above his head.
"Ye look so cute like that, pumpkin," he pulls a smug face as you lean forward against him, your chests compacting and you're an inch away from kissing.
"You could've told me you wanted to kiss me," you tease, not minding that he lowered his hand back down. He tucks your stray bangs behind your ear, ending up doing what he wanted to do all along.
"But it's more fun to watch ya tiptoe and lean on to me like that," he rounds you with his big arms, pulling you deeper into his chest with a Bastard smirk on his face, "it makes you even prettier, pet. These little things you do."
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Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my birthday sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞
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fourmoony · 5 months
Note
hii so i was thinking could you write smth with james getting flowers for the first time from reader? it would be soo cute
hi lovely! thanks for requesting.
james x reader fluff | 711
James' shoes are haphazardly abandoned beneath the coatrack when you push your way through the door.
You're holding two bags in each hand, the crinkling of them loud in your ears as you struggle to move through the door way. The coat rack wobbles when one of the bags catches a coat that's been thrown over the top and you let out an exasperated swear under your breath. James rounds the corner with curious eyes, already changed out of his work clothes despite having only been home for what you know to be twenty minutes. He looks cozy in his Christmas pyjamas, socks pulled up with the bottoms tucked into them.
He smiles bright when your eyes meet his and steps forwards to take two of the bags from your hands. You hand them over gratefully, smiling to yourself when his lips press to your head in greeting.
"Hi, lovey," He murmurs, pulling away to make for the kitchen.
You follow, hot on his heels, chasing the scent of his boyish body wash and the warmth of his heart. "Hi. How was your day?"
James sets his bags on the kitchen island and you follow suit, "It was good. Got lunch with Sirius. He sends his love."
"No Remus?" You ask as you fall into a practiced routine of putting away the shopping, together.
It's domesticity at it's finest and you love every minute of it. James has a way of making the smallest things mean the world. With him, things like changing bed sheets or folding laundry isn't so boring. Simply because he's there, soft voiced and willing to help.
He squeezes your hip as he passes, headed to put the milk in the fridge, "Nah, he's got a deadline to meet next week, probably won't crawl out of his hole until after."
You make a mental note to check in on him through the week, even just to tidy up around him while he works, make him a meal that has more nutritional value than a Tesco microwave meal or a kebab. "I hope he's feeling more inspired than last week. Marlene said he was staring at the wall for over an hour when she went round to drop off the shortbread Mary made."
James hums in agreement, rustling around in the second bag. Cellophane crackles and your boyfriend makes a questioning noise - "Lovey, why didn't you tell me your flowers were dying, I only bought them last week."
You turn from where you're trying to stuff a bag of oven chips into the overly stuffed freezer drawer, eyebrows drawn together because your flowers aren't dying so why is James saying that they are? His eyebrows are furrowed, too, and he's standing with a bunch of bright yellow sun flowers in his hand. You smile, "They're for you, silly. Not me."
As if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
It only makes James more confused. "Why?"
Well, for starters, they're big and beautiful, and remind you of a summer's day - same as James. Secondly, he'd said only last week that his mum had grown them in her garden when he was a young boy and he missed the sight dearly. You tell him this and watch as his big hazel eyes turn soft, the hand that isn't cradling the bunch of flowers reaching out for you.
You crowd his space, happy to be so close to him, all cozy and warm and smelling so handsome. The tops of his cheeks are pink and he's smiling so wide it makes your heart melt. He looks almost bashful.
"I've never had someone buy me flowers before." He says it so quietly you're not sure if you were even supposed to hear.
"Well," You press your lips to the underside of his jaw, "Now you have."
He smiles even wider, presses his lips to yours and you feel the familiar warmth spread through your body at his touch. His fingers brush along your waist line, eyes on his bright bunch of sun flowers.
"Thanks, baby."
His smile is sweet and sticky like honey, a familiar feeling in your chest, and all you want to do is kiss him again. So you do. He welcomes it.
"You're welcome, Jamie."
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drewsprettygirl · 1 month
Text
love story . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁💐
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౨ৎ inspired with the song love story by indila !!
౨ৎ s1! rafe x fem! pogue! reader
౨ৎ angst, mentions of drugs, drinking, & fluff
౨ৎ takes place in midsummers - rafey baby so handsome there
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you met him at that state he was - relying on barry and his coke to calm his senses down. soon along, you became friends. he was your rock, and you were his.
of course - his sister, sarah had seen the unmistaken look in her troubled brother’s eyes, of which ones were dilated & jittery by the euphoria had turned serene and much more.. adoring?
no. that didn’t sound like the big bad rafe everyone knew and had on their books.
he had changed - because of a stupid girl. a stupid pogue. surely, he wouldn’t let that affect his family’s name! but god, he was wrong.
he’d grown fond of you, come to think of it - you weren’t like “your people” as he said it. he’d seen her as a sweet and caring person— something he lacked in his life.
so as you and him exchanged glances at the country club— you were a bartender, just serving him a glass of wine— you couldn’t help but be drawn to the man who sat across you in that little taupe barstool.
“i haven’t seen you here,” the blue eyed boy stared at you up and down.
“i just started a couple days ago.” she replied softly.
it only started like that. what could possibly go wrong?
it wasn’t until 10 months into it. midsummers was nearing— rafe had invited you to be his plus one. he was shy- a little bit jittery- and he handed you a flower.
“for me?” she said in awe, looking at the peony he had gotten her.
“yes you.” rafe had replied— coldly. he didn’t want to come off like a pussy, as his friends top and kelce called him for being too shy.
apart from you being a pogue, he had no issues. you were the first one he didn’t get into bad terms with, which surprisingly shocked you. —and shocked him too. he didn’t expect to fall hard, head over heels for you.
that led to him, on the following night of the next friday—waiting.
you had doubts, being a pogue in an all-kook annual party, you had your dress ready, hair done, but what else was there to it? you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t bring yourself to walk to your car to drive to figure 8. you couldn’t let yourself ruin the cameron name. you would never make an attempt to embarrass your lover. you were just a bartender— not some silverspoon-born girl.
he had a rose in his hand, constantly pacing across the room, his hand running through his hair, pushing it back. he felt himself getting hot, the camerons were about to come out, so where were you?
surely— you wouldn’t blow him off; he thought.
was he crazy? he kept checking his phone, looking at your contact. he checked your photos on his phone gallery, trying to calm himself down.
“rafe!” rose, his step-mother calls, telling him they have to go out of the door since the party’s starting. he runs a hand through his hair, and tries to breathe calmly.
the whole party, he had expected you to be with him. he had expected your hand in his, your arm linked with his, and your head on his shoulder. but where were you to be found?
he quickly typed on your contact;
—where are you sent 7:22
you immediately see the notification pop up, you were crying, you couldn’t bring yourself to text him back. you were breaking his heart and yours too.
it had been minutes since he sent that. no text backs?
—y/n sent 7:31
—why aren’t you here?? sent 7:32
—i thought you were coming w me sent 7:32
—i even bought you a damn dress sent 7:32
—y/n answer right fucking now sent 7:34
that was all it took to piss rafe off. you were blowing him off? he was furious— almost crushed a glass on how hard he was gripping it.
the whole night, he couldn’t sleep. what were you doing? all he could think of was you. does she even like me? does she still care? he sees you everywhere.
the next day, he checked his phone. no reply. he decided to drive to the country club in which— you were working at.
he was surprised to hear you didn’t come in this morning, supposedly calling in sick. lies. he thought. he knew you had a brain on you, and that you were quite smart in times like these. but right now, it wasn’t helping.
for the past week—he had been driving to the country club everyday, checking on you. which was not left unnoticed by ward.
“the fuck is on my credit card bills, boy? all from the country club?” ward asked rafe furiously.
“it’s just drinks.” rafe answered defensively, not wanting to talk to his dad anymore.
“put it on your card! not mine. you have your own card for that—“
“look, dad— the money—“
“what about the goddamn money!? you out of cash, rafe? see. this is what happens if you don’t bother to be responsible, to think! you don’t think, rafe! and to say i was the one who raised you.. god.” ward answered hastily, leaving the room with him massaging his own temples.
rafe was outraged. this whole week had turned for the worse, you were supposed to be there for him. but where were you?
his frustration brought him back to his worst behaviors. he spent his days at barry’s. snorting the white lines of fine powder.
“country club. what’s gotten you all knees for the c dust?”
“hard week, barry. don’t remind me.” rafe answered angrily, just wanting to get over it.
“i hear you haven’t been seein’ your girl, huh?”
“—so what!?”
“chill, chill, you’re actin’ out. she’s a pogue.”
“i haven’t seen her in a goddamn week. i don’t fuckin’ care if she’s one. she’s everything i think of, fuck.”
and that led to him, driving to your house at the cut. hearing a knock on your door, your mom calls you to open it while she was in the kitchen.
“rafe—“ she spoke softly, until she got cut off by his lips on hers. he smelled of beer. had he been drinking?
worried, she pulled him up to her room secretly. looking around to see if anyone was near them or could hear.
“have you been drinking?” she asked sadly. what had she done? all of that because of her? only a lazy nod was what she got from him, quickly laying him down on her bed.
“i’m sorry rafe.”
“what happened y/n? i thought you were gonna come and you’d be my date— i even bought you a fucking dress. a goddamn dress because i wanted you to look gorgeous that night. and what do i get? a dead rose and an absent woman—“
“i’m so sorry, please i promise you i am-“
“promise me.. everything’s alright between us baby.” rafe spoke softly with a drawl, grabbing your hand and intertwining it with yours as he stared at the ceiling. the lights were off and his only source was the one coming from the moon out the window, that cascaded your features.
“i do,” she replied with her voice slightly breaking. she leant down to hug him tight. she felt so sorry for him.
“i just- i dream of you. i- i fucking want you with me y/n, baby, stay with me, but i don’t- i don’t know how to love..” “fuck. i’m such a mess. dad’s on my ass again about the money- then you go fucking vague!”
“rafe, rafe, i’m so-“
“no, stop! just please- stop saying that.”
“i didn’t want- i couldn’t go anymore. i’m not rich, rafe. i’m not a kook for crying out loud! i just- i just didn’t wanna embarrass you,“
“no, baby, don’t say that,” he said, wrapping her lips in his.
“i’ll give you everything. i’ll give you gold if you don’t care, i’ll wait for you, i don’t give a fuck if you’ll ignore me- i’d even kill for you, baby.” rafe muttered.
she only looks at him with tears in her eyes, him wrapping his arms around her, wiping her tears away and kissing her.
“don’t fuckin��� pull shit like that on me again, mkay?” he hummed against her lips aggressively, pulling away.
“i’m sorry,” she sighed, feeling a tear stab my eye. “i just—didn’t want to try to fit in to be someone i’m not.” “i’m so sorry rafe,” she softly sobbed in his arms.
“shh, shh, it’s just you and me baby, i love you.” he whispered, rubbing your back.
“—i love you too.” she replied. nobody would possibly believe it but, love makes a fool of the kook king
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by drewsprettygirl 𝜗𝜚
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manicpixiefelix · 4 months
Text
seen and not heard
{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }
Summary: You are the weirdest person at this fancy event Felix's parents dragged him along to, and the only person his age apart from his sister. Turns out you're intriguing enough that he doesn't protest when his parents suggest you join them for a Summer at Saltburn.
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. I know the reader comes out as NB and changes their name to Y/N in high school in the main fic but suspend your disbelief.
A/N: 2211 words. FLASHBACK!! anon asked for a flashback to a core memory for young felix & reader, so here is their first meeting that ends with a core memory for felix. i love them both, id like to write more of them being young together in future. (also i was a little drunk while writing this, please forgive me xx)
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
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Summer slips by from one sticky-hot moment to the next at the Saltburn estate. Felix still isn't quite sure what to make of you, even as he'd so callously agreed to have you in his home after meeting you at one of his parents' various functions. It had been one of the rare ones he'd been invited to attend, alongside Venetia, tasked with being on his best behaviour.
The hosts were friends with his parents - they always were - and he'd found himself on a boat. Early in the afternoon he'd found himself aware of your gaze on him and his sister, the two of them pinching canapes from passing waiters. Venetia had been trying to put as many as she could into her mother's purse without Elspeth noticing, but all Felix could do was eat them as quickly as he could, bored out of his mind from smiling as his parents showed him off.
Our beautiful boy, Felix, they'd said when people politely asked who he was, and our daughter Venetia is around here somewhere.
No-one came near you, by the railing, people watching and occasionally being brough a glass of orange juice in a fancy cup by various members of staff who would give you pitying looks. There weren't many others around his age; he wasn't even sure why he and Venetia were there at all. Eventually, however, he managed to slip away from his mother.
"How boring, right?" He'd laughed softly, but you'd shrunken back, glancing around, as if unsure whether you were even allowed to respond.
"It's for a good cause, isn't it?" It sounds rehearsed. You look more uncomfortable.
"I guess, I don't know," he shrugged, "why are you here? Your parents bring you along?" You're still avoid his eye contact, looking around at the other guests. You shrug kind of helplessly, before finally looking at him.
"You're Elspeth and Sir James' son; I heard them talking about you," then, as quickly as you'd turned to him, you look away, "I don't know if I'm allowed to talk to you."
"Why can't you talk to me?" He's growing more intrigued by the minute, watching you closely, which only seems to agitate you further. A slow smile spreads across his lips, "who are you?"
You shrug.
"That's not an answer," Felix relaxes further into the conversation now, leaning against the railing of the boat, looking over his shoulder at the waves breaking as it moved through the water in the sunset.
"I'm not anyone really, I'm just here," you try to smile, but it's awkward, it's like you don't quite know how. It's not upset or unhappy, it's just the truth you know it seems. Then, after a moment, your attention seems drawn back to the others. He follows your gaze, and sees his parents speaking to the people who'd been pointed out as the hosts at the start of the party. Something in their gaze is intense, but not unkind. His parents smile at him, and he watches the hosts manage a faint, awkward smile at the pair of your by the edge of the boat. They nod.
Beside him, he actually hears you let out a shaky breath.
"You're Felix Catton," you say so very softly, even though he'd never properly introduced himself, "your sister is Venetia and she's been in the kitchens for the past fifteen minutes; not sure how that's going to work out for her." He turns to you very sharply, sees the way you're watching him with a nervous energy, "I'm Y/N."
You're being very weird.
"I know everyone here. Sorry," you admit finally.
"I don't have to know everyone here," Felix frowns; he should probably leave, be too weirded-out to stick around, but something about you intrigues him beyond what he can say. You shrug, but it's easier this time, as is the half smile you give him.
"You're not me."
A strange creature. A marvel. He spent the next hour pointing out patrons while you rattled off not only their name, but any gossip you somehow knew about them, much to Felix's delight. Sometimes he'd catch you watching him, watching the way he'd smile and laugh at the strange details you'd manage to recall that would make you laugh, and he saw a fondness in your eyes that frightened him with how much he appreciated it.
The two of you spend the better part of the night together, which would be strange if he didn't catch his parents watching approvingly every so often. Venetia had been brought out of the kitchen by a waiter and was kept on a metaphorical tight leash by his parents, so they seemed glad he was just keeping out of trouble.
"How would you feel about Y/N spending some time with us over the Summer?" His mother had brought him the idea at the end of the night in the coach ride back to Saltburn. Venetia is asleep in her lap, curled up awkwardly, while his father sat up front with the driver.
So that's how you ended up at Saltburn that Summer.
You showed up, still a strange creature, still a marvel. You knew all the scripts, never slipping up even as Duncan loomed over you. Please and thank you and dressing up for dinner without having to be asked. Venetia giggled and called you a robot and an alien and Farleigh spent the first few days mocking how formal you were at every given interaction. Always asking, always delicate, always seeking permission.
But Felix sees through the nerves. Or, at least he hopes he does.
"I'm desperate for some ice cream," there's a good chance you're asleep, but he tries his luck, whispering through the shut door on the other side of your shared bathroom.
"Uh..." he hears from the other side.
"Do you want some?" It's late enough that everyone else is asleep, but he's rather desperate to see the side of you that had come out by the end of the event he'd met you at. Of course you're nervous when you open the door, but he smiles, and you smile back, sleepy but more genuine than it had been since you'd arrived.
"Are we allowed?"
"Probably not, but it's my house so who cares," and he grabs your hand and pulls you to the kitchen. Something about the way you laugh despite yourself hits him square in the chest.
In the day time, Elspeth gives you both concerned looks and asks if you slept alright. Every time you make a point of straightening your posture and giving her a bright smile and assuring her you're fine. Felix will yawn and give a thumbs up. The change you show in the day is gradual, it almost takes all Summer.
You learn to play with Farleigh and Venetia and Felix without seeming like a robot; you learn their rules and games and jokes. You watch until you can respond in the way they all want to hear, while still being perfect under the watchful eyes of Sir James and Elspeth. Everyone loves the way you shape yourself to fit into their world.
At night, however, you come alive with Felix.
Of course he already knows Saltburn like the back of his hand, but he's surprised by how quickly you learn to move silently, following his footsteps and stifling your giggling. There's something about him that makes you chatter honestly, rather than trying to say exactly what you think he might want to hear.
"Sorry, sorry," you apologise, the two of you having been cackling at an inappropriate joke Felix had been recounting. The two of you are laying in his bed, top and tails on his duvet, looking up at the ornate ceiling.
"What are you apologising for?" Felix's face hurts from how much he's been smiling. It's been happening pretty much every night now, he can't remember having more fun over Summer in his whole life, he has no idea why you're apologising.
But you grow quiet.
"I dunno," you say softly, and shift your knee to press into his elbow. A strange silence settles over you both, and somehow he knows that's not all of it, that there's more on your mind you don't know how to say, "all of it," you finally say, and try and laugh again but can't quite manage it.
"You're so weird," Felix sighs finally, dramatically, bringing levity back to the moment and sticking his foot in your face as you protest loudly.
"You're so gross!" You cry, glad that you two were the only ones on this side of the house, shoving him away, smacking and kicking just as he was too, until the two of you are scraping. Tonight you win, biting at his shins until he calls for a truce, and you grin in triumph.
This more human side of you bleeds into the daytime. You tease Venetia but help her rope Farleigh and Felix in a fashion show, just so she can tease up their hair and put them in makeup and sequins. You scrap and squabble with Farleigh in the lake but end up laying all over each other during movie nights with the rest of the family.
And Felix? Well it takes little time for the rest of the house to see how close you become.
There's always something fond, something almost proud in his parents' eyes when they see the two of you together now. They host little events over the Summer, and they start introducing you and Felix together.
"Our beautiful boy, Felix, and his darling, little friend Y/N; a friend of the family."
Still, you shrink away at events; you hide if you can get away with it. Felix always finds you, and then he finds Farleigh and Venetia and the four of you will often play cards in one of the quieter rooms you were all still allowed to be in for the duration of the party. At first he doesn't ask, but curiosity gets the better of him eventually.
"Don't like being looked at," you muttered, distracted as you frowned at your hand of cards. Venetia scoffs and Farleigh rolls his eyes.
"I'm not meant to be looked at," is the real answer you give when you and Felix sneak out of your rooms to eat leftovers at three in the morning. Sitting on the kitchen counter, you've got a plate of half-finished hors d'oeuvre between you. You're focused on the food, unable to look at him.
"What's that even mean?"
"Dunno," you shrugged, "just not meant to be looked at."
"I'm looking at you now," Felix leans in, opens his eyes as wide as he's able, and is rewarded by you cracking a smile when you finally glance at him, unable to help yourself.
"Not like that," you shove his face away, rolling your eyes even though you can't stop smiling, "like, there's people who matter at these fancy events that our parents go to, and people who don't matter, like they're people so of course they matter, but they don't matter to the people who matter, you know?"
"Kind of?"
"Like you matter because you're a Catton, but you don't matter because you're ten, but your parents matter-matter. Waiters don't matter one way or the other, which is mean but it's true at stuff like that," its starting to make more sense, but Felix can't help but watch how you're picking apart a cracker almost atom-by-atom as you explain, "and I matter because I- I, um," you stumble over your words, "because I just matter, but again, I'm a kid," you clear your throat awkwardly, "but I'm not really meant to even go to those things, and if I do, I have to really seem like I don't matter, like even less than a waiter; the least matter-ing person to not matter."
Then, finally looking up, you meet his gaze and apologise. There's something almost forlorn in your eyes.
Felix still doesn't know what to make of you in this moment. A strange creature. A marvel. Someone who matters, even if you're not meant to; someone he decides matters to him.
"You're being so weird," he grins finally. You burst out laughing, whole face lighting up, tension leaving you in an instant. It sets him off too, filling the kitchen with joy.
Sure, the two of you should probably be quieter in this moment, in the dead of night, but neither of you can bring yourselves to care.
Felix doesn't realise how this moment, this first Summer sticks with him. It takes him a long time to even bother questioning why it is that you start spending every Summer with them, how you convince your parents to let you join him at boarding school for secondary school after spending all Summer before talking about how cool it would be. In due time you will finally make total sense to him, but by then it won't even matter, it won't change anything about how glad he is to have you by his side.
Felix doesn't think about why or when he decided to make sure you knew that you mattered, but there's a little bit of it in everything he does.
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