#i started this piece like a million years ago and hated how it looked and finally came back and have been trying to fix it with the skills

[h3rmitsunited]

WIP I'm really enjoying working on 🥰 todds jacket is fun but also annoying and I feel like I'm finally starting to figure out how to draw mouths from the side because wtf why is that so difficult

[sjyuns]

HEAVENLY ┆ A PARK SUNGHOON ONESHOT

SYNOPSIS! park sunghoon has put a curse on you after smashing you heart into a million pieces — that you’d never be able to find anyone comparable to him. and now he’s back, cocky and flirty as ever to prove that he’s the only one you’d ever need.

GENRE! playboy! sunghoon x fem reader, kiss his face with an uppercut romance, exes to lovers, fake dating, mutual pining, fluff, angst

CAUTION! cursing, party, attempt of writing heartbreak angst, slightly toxic (?) behaviour, make out scenes, cheating allegations, sunghoon douchebag, sunghoon has major confrontation issues, smoking

WORDCOUNT! 9.5k

MIKAELA’S! IM BACK, he’s back. playboy hoon! finally writing after like three months, it’s not the best so please forgive me. written to CIGARETTES AFTER SEX’s discography. feedback and reblog are appreciated! NOT PROOFREAD

TEASER SERIES MASTERLIST

WHERE IT’S SO SWEET AND HEAVENLY

THE VERY definition of sin and salvation, Park Sunghoon brings out the best of you in the worst ways. The first, your first — your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first love.

He pulls you in and invades your senses, every careless whisper, every note passed in class, every make out session in dim empty classrooms, Sunghoon makes you yearn for him and you would be able to tell him apart from everyone else by touch and smell alone.

You still remember the summer two years ago, when you sat in the passenger seat of his convertible, wind in your hair as you had the greatest time in your life.

“Frozen?” You say as the radio in his car starts blasting ‘let it go’, and Sunghoon looks over to you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Why not?” He says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other moving to brush a strand of your hair back, “Elsa and Anna are pretty cool.” He holds your hand, thumb caressing the smooth skin of yours as he watches you throw your head back, laughter ringing through the air at his words.

“They are,” you agree with a giggle before your other hand fists to your lips as a microphone. And you sing with him, at the top of your lungs. That summer, in his passenger seat, you fell irrationally and irrevocably in love.

He looks at you, trying to catch his breath, and he adores — the way your lips curve up into the prettiest smile, the way you radiate warmth, and the way you’re you, intoxicating, captivating, and all together godly.

And he kisses you like his life depends on it. It’s soft, hot, desperate, and tender all at once. Your lips smooth, falling open at the brush of his tongue and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, teeth tugging at your lips, fingers twined into your hair before he breaks it only to barely press his lips onto your again, shifting from the corner of your lips to the centre, and then to the rest of your face, tiny pecks everywhere, as if he was worshipping you.

“Let’s do this again when we’re eighty,” he whispers, eyes locked onto you and forehead pressed against yours.

“You really think we’d make it till eighty?” You ask, and Sunghoon wears that infamous grin of his. A scoff leaves his lips as he replies, “baby we’d still be together even if you’re in heaven and I’m stuck in hell.”

“You don’t think we’d ever break up?” You question, and he chuckles at your innocence. Him? Breaking up with you? And he wonders if you realise the way he looks at you, how he kisses you like your lips are heaven.

“No way, princess,” he murmurs, bending over to place a ghost of a kiss on your lips, “I could be clinically insane or have the worst memory lost but I’d never forget how in love with you I am.”

How stupid you were to indulge in such empty promises. You should have known, been more aware that you could never change him — his habit of losing feelings fast.

How quickly he threw away a year of memories, how he kissed it off you and how you couldn’t help but comply, tears rolling down your cheeks. And you hated the way his face flashed a glimpse of regret — as if he was sorry he got caught.

“She pushed herself on me, love. As soon as she heard footsteps approaching.” Sunghoon pleaded, and you truly wanted to believe him. The way his hair was unusually dishevelled, his eyes full of pain. Yet all you could envision when you saw him was the picture of his body against one that was not yours, looking at her the way he looked at you.

“I really can’t handle this right now Sunghoon,” you cry, twisting your wrist out of his hold. Sunghoon feels his heart crush — he hears it. It chips off piece by piece as he watches you crumble to the ground, hands over your face and he wants to go over to console you yet his feet are glued to the ground.

“I swear,” he whispers, soft yet it shakes both hearts in the room, “you and me.”

Your head hurts and nothing matches up. Maybe you’re a coward for not choosing to fight or maybe you’re just too tired. “I can’t,” your voice cracking uglily, “I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“I love you,” you say, vision stuck on the floorboards, too scared to look at Sunghoon’s expression — was it pain like yours was, or was it joy and excitement at breaking yet another girl’s heart, “so much Hoon,” you manage to croak out.

“And I’d always trust you, but I need some time to process this, alone.”

That was the breaking point, when his heart shattered into small sharp shards of fragile vulnerability. It just seemed like yesterday when the both of you laid side by side and swore your forevers. He was never one for love and romance but now he gets it.

There wasn’t any point living if it’s not with you.

And he blames himself — his previous actions and deeds that cursed him for life, the karma that haunted him for his unrighteousness. Maybe he does deserve it, he thinks, if this was what every other girl felt like when he had broken things up with them.

“Please,” he muttered, eyes red and tears running down. Sunghoon doesn’t know who he’s talking to anymore; if he was begging you to stay by his side or begging himself to stop inflicting pain on your precious heart.

“Not now,” your chest squeezes and your rib cage traps your ferociously beating heart to hold it in its place as you make a rash decision, “I don’t want to see you.”

Sunghoon thinks he could’ve turned into a grotesque monster the way you shunned him out. All bloody and contorted, far away from the charm he once used to hold. And he wants to disagree, yet he murmurs the heavy words of agreement.

You only hear the shuffling of feet — one that you can recognise from miles away, before the door clicks close and your throat burns from the loud sobs emitted from your heart.

As much as you wanted to indulge in such a cliche that you could be the one person who changed his way, this was sadly reality. That Park Sunghoon never belonged to you the way you belonged to him.

He’d always be wanted everywhere he went, and you don’t know if you’d ever be able to handle that.

ONE YEAR LATER

You’re kissing a boy whose name you don’t remember. Is it Park Jaemin or Park Jaeon? Is his surname even Park? Eyes closed and lips on lips, and it isn’t very polite of you to rate a boy’s kiss, but it’s all you can do to satisfy your boredom as his teeth carelessly bites down on your tongue. Fucking hell, you think, as you break the kiss only to meet the boy’s apologetic expression, it’s a two out of ten.

Dreading to tell your friends about yet another terribly gone blind date, you force a tight lipped smile as you wave goodbye to the boy whose cheeks are flushed red. As cute as he looked, you wished you would never see him again.

“God, why are men like this,” you complain right as you open the doors to your dorm room. Karina, your dorm mate and self proclaimed best friend sits up on her bed, patting the spot next to her in eagerness, ready to listen to yet another night of whining.

“It can’t be as bad as the lifeguard guy,” she says, tilting her head to examine your fatigued expression, “how was the kiss this time round?”

You don’t even bother saying it out, you didn’t even want to think about it again. Simply raising two fingers up at her, your back hits the soft cushion of Karina’s bed, a loud sigh leaving your lips.

“Still not comparable to,” she pauses, looking at you warily before continuing, “him?”

Him. God, it’s insane that he’s still stuck in your mind a year after he mercilessly stepped on your heart. You stay silent, and that’s all it takes for your dorm mate to flop down beside you, a big sigh leaving her lips as well.

You’re over him. You’re over Park Sunghoon. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. But despite days and nights of going out again and again with different boys to forget about him, changing habits and sleep schedules to leave memories with him behind, deep inside your heart you know that you’ll never get over Park Sunghoon.

He’s the reason why any blind date your parents set you up with doesn’t go smoothly. You’re picky, and you can’t seem to find a boy comparable to him. And you fault Sunghoon for making you like this — overly obsessed with the composition of people.

Like every boring blind date starts, the boy picks you up, drives you to your favourite restaurant and asks you the same questions, “what do you study?”, “how are you liking school?”, and oftentimes questions of more substance like, “how was your day today?” At least with those kinds of questions your answer could vary.

And everytime you get asked such questions you can’t help but remember him. Park Sunghoon, who told you that he practised knotting his tie an hour a day to prepare for your very first date together. How he likes KitKats so much but he’s boycotting Nestle so he doesn’t buy them, and how he absolutely hates the taste of coffee, but drinks it to look cool.

Your eyes start to burn slightly, and you squeeze them shut, trying to stop the collecting tears from trailing down the apples of your cheeks. You hate Sunghoon, you despise him so much you wish you could punch him and his god awful handsome face a couple times. Why, you wonder, why did he have to be such a good boyfriend? Maybe if he wasn’t you’d be content with a boy who wasn’t experienced in kissing, maybe you’d be fine with a boy who asks you how your day went just for the sake of asking.

And it doesn’t help that you’ve grown the exact same habit as him, that you had to restrain yourself from telling every single boy you sit across the table from small details about you like you used to tell Sunghoon.

Hands moving to furiously wipe the tears streaming down your face, you open your eyes to see Karina, who looks at you with sympathy. It’s become too common of an occurrence, and she hates that she can’t do anything about it other than offer you comfort.

“He was a good boyfriend, but there are better out there,” she says this time round, moving over to lay beside you. There are better boys out there, everyone is better than a boy who broke your heart. But he’s the one you want. Park Sunghoon.

No words are exchanged but a tight hug before you shuffle back to your bed. Your nighttime routine begins as your head hits the pillow and you start thinking about Sunghoon. You always think about Sunghoon before you fall asleep, you did since the very first time you met him, and you do now. The words he said, the way he looked. The inside jokes you had, the silent moments you shared. And if you ever dream, you dream about him. Because it’s Sunghoon, and everything in your life seemed to revolve around him.

It’s strange, how the moments the both of you shared felt like forever. Until suddenly you’re nineteen, and he’s halfway across the world. The earth becomes an hourglass, and you’re watching the sand pile up at the wrong end. And you’re thinking about how when you first met him, when you dated him, and when you were just beside him. Then your heart was like a kick drum at a rock show. But now, it is merely a ticking bomb of pain and anguish.

The arrogance and beautiful glory that shined with him — and you can still never forget the time it blinded you. How you were supposed to be the main character yet all you could focus on was the godly playboy who stole your firsts.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” Sunghoon mumbled, and he was so close you could feel his breath on your lips.

He held your gaze confidently, with a tinge of arrogance as his tongue darted out to lick his lip. You remember thinking that Sunghoon was the most annoying person in the world, because how could he have looked so devilishly handsome and have such an intoxicating effect on you.

It all started when he showed up unannounced and uninvited to your birthday party — still in his school uniform, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up with his blazer hanging over his shoulder.

And you should have known better than to let him charm his way into your house. “What are you doing here, Hoon?”

Sunghoon loved the way his nickname rolled off the tip of your tongue, so addictive that he wanted to record it — to play it again and again, even if your tone was one of spite.

“Happy birthday princess,” Sunghoon completely ignored your words, taking steps closer towards you, “now, where’s my birthday kiss?”

He’s at it again, aimlessly flirting with you. You rolled your eyes, a deep sigh exiting your mouth, “it’s my birthday, Hoon.” How did he even know where you lived? You were sure you told everyone you invited not to bring him along.

“So I’ll give you a birthday kiss,” he grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches your facial expressions fall, ears burning red as you quickly turn around.

You hated Park Sunghoon and the unimaginable hold he had on you. “I’m going to find my mother. Do not, I swear to god, cause any trouble.”

“Your mother? It’s a little early in the relationship,” he moved swiftly to your side, arms casually slinging over your shoulder as he pulled you closer into him forcefully. “But it’s okay, I’m ready.”

Where in the world did Sunghoon get his cocky attitude from, you think as you try your best to pry and lift his arm away from your shoulder. Despite your surface indifference towards his advances, there were millions of butterflies invading your stomach at his every single action.

Before you can even try to escape, a voice calls your name and you stop to talk to Yunjin. “Park Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

Sunghoon steals a glance at you, and he thought you looked absolutely adorable as you pouted at the image of multiple people seeing you with him; given how you always seemed to have complaints about his overly flirty nature and playboy ways.

But Sunghoon hadn’t fooled around since you transferred into Decelis two months ago, a personal record for him. At first all you were was a form of entertainment, someone who had cute reactions to his smooth pick up lines.

Then it all came crashing down, when he started to feel the need to bicker with you everyday and mess up your hair every time he saw you in the hallways. And somewhere in between the blurred lines, he fell in love.

“Here to celebrate my girl’s birthday,” he cocks his head towards you, who’s palms now cover your face in sheer embarrassment. God, now it’s going to spread like wildfire. His girl?

Yunjin’s eyes widen and jaw drops, “really? You guys are together? But I thought you were with Choi Soobin.” She asked, nudging you.

Sunghoon frowns at her words. Choi Soobin? Since when? Sunghoon literally followed you around school whenever he saw you, and he’s never seen you ever talk to that boy.

“Soobin and I are just friends,” you clarify, “also we are not a couple,” your finger gesturing to you and Sunghoon as you answer the girl.

“We’ll be one by tomorrow,” Sunghoon cuts back into the conversation, voice loud, and he catches your surprised expression as he smirks slyly.

Though he continues the conversation without a single stutter or break, Sunghoon’s feeling utterly disgusted. Is that the kind of boy you like? Nerdy losers who can’t do anything for the life of themselves? He doesn’t really like the thought of turning into those types of boys, but whatever you want, he thinks — he’s already practised abstinence for you, he might as well go all the way.

At the same time Sunghoon wonders if you’re really that oblivious to his obvious advancements towards you. He’s made it crystal clear: dumped his girlfriend, followed you around, talked about you literally all the time, and yet you’re still clueless.

And he whisks you away before you find the chance to clarify his words again. He’s determined this time round, to make it extremely straightforward for you.

“Hoon why in the world would you say stuff like that,” you groaned, hands slapping his chest. And he grins like an idiot at your touch, if this was what it took for you to initiate skinship with him, he’d be more than willing to proclaim himself as your boyfriend any day.

He placed a hand on the place you’d just hit, “it’s painful,” he pouted, and you almost feel a little guilty at your harsh actions, “can you kiss it better?”

Until that. You huffed, “I'm leaving,” you announced as you turned away, ready to walk right back into the crowd. Sunghoon quickly clasped his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes become those of a deer caught in headlights as your body is pressed firmly against his, his arms finding their way to your waist; a gentle but firm hold as he bent down.

“Wasn’t done yet, princess,” he smirked, and you feel some sort of danger looming over because Sunghoon looks like a devil enticing you to commit sin. His black hair styles perfectly like always and his red tie, due to his excessive movements, is now dropping down even more to expose his honey skinned collarbones.

The most you can muster is a mumble, “what,” and your eyes are glassy as you stare up at him, he thinks he might go insane — to just move in to place a kiss on your invitingly soft lips.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” and he literally spat the term out, unable to believe he’s labelling someone else other than him ‘your boyfriend’. He knew you guys weren’t together, but just for the comfort of his heart he had to hear it again.

It took you a while to process his words. “He’s not my boyfriend, Hoon,” and it’s that short statement coupled with the way you said his name that really did it for him.

Sunghoon moves in just as you finish your sentence, and he sinks into your pillowy lips. It’s paradise on earth and he thinks he will never be able to get enough of this feeling.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled when he broke the kiss, slightly out of breath as you looked up with hazy eyes.

He chuckled, “sorry, baby, my bad. I’ll return your kiss back,” and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to give you another kiss, fingers caressing your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

This time it’s you who breaks the kiss, way too out of breath to even form full sentences without a few breaks in between. “You just kissed me.”

“Right, I just did that baby,” he smiles, those tiny fangs of his showcased as he gazes adoringly at you. “Actually, I’m looking for a girlfriend.” He pauses, eyeing your flushed cheeks and pink lips, “Are you looking for a boyfriend by any chance, princess?”

Now that you’re literally glued onto Sunghoon, you take the chance to look at him. Sharp nose, pretty moles that you could probably trace along all day, and his eyes which contrasting to his calm demeanour, held anxiousness as he waited for you to answer.

You’ve thought about dating Sunghoon before. Multiple times. Way more than you should’ve. And you never wanted to ever confess to it, because he was everyone’s crush. And not only that, he was annoying — constantly teasing you and making you flustered by his actions. You’d curse every time your heartbeat started to accelerate at his flirty words. You had thought that there was no way he’d ever like you back.

“I’m looking for a boyfriend,” you admit, letting out a soft giggle at Sunghoon’s overjoyed expression. And you decide that maybe now’s the time to get back at him, tease him a little to get him to stay on his toes, “maybe I should go find Soobin.”

His shoulders downturn almost immediately and his arms wrap around your waist securely, chin resting on the top of your head. “No fucking way,” he grumbles, “you’re my girlfriend now. And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, voice muffled in the embrace of Sunghoon. And you hear him giggle slightly, the rumble of his chest exposing the boyish feelings your boyfriend was currently going through, “for now.”

Sunghoon lifted his chin from your head, fingers brushing over your cheeks before they landed themselves on your jaw. He tilts your chin up, “too bad my intention is forever.” And he placed chaste kisses on your lips again and again.

What a joke. What a liar, you think as you feel the cords of your heart tug at the memory. He haunts you and you wish you were here with him in his arms, fresh perfumed scent from Tamburins that he always used wafting into your senses, intoxicating you, consuming you.

Sticky cheeks and bloodshot eyes adorn your face as Karina shakes you incessantly, bringing you back to reality. “What,” you groan. You weren’t in the mood for whatever gossip she had to tell you — Sunghoon consumed your mind in ways that made it ache; you barely have space for any other thoughts.

She thrusts the phone into your face, the blaring screen making you squint as you recognise the familiar school news forum website. The big bold title of the post names ‘guys help me find this guy i saw on campus in omfg’ along with a picture attached.

You’re left speechless as a wave of emotions hits you and you feel like you’re drowning. This is not a dream, it’s real. And you don’t know if this was the universe’s way of pushing you to get over him or if you’d just managed to anger the world with your incessant wailing about the boy.

Because Park Sunghoon is back and he’s looking ten times hotter than you’d remembered.

Sunghoon sits with his long legs comfortably spread open and arms resting on the cushions of the couch, as if he was the owner of the house.

“So,” the girl straddled on his lap says, twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at him, “what’s your favourite fruit then?”

They’ve been at it for minutes that felt like hours and Sunghoon doesn’t think he can withstand the urge to push her off his lap for any longer. Sunghoon grins cockily, “wanna know, babe?”

He watches with dark eyes as the girl, who’s name he can’t seem to remember, nods bashfully. It’s the fifth girl in three days, and Sunghoon’s getting a little tired of the same old expressions to his flirty behaviour.

“Strawberries,” Sunghoon tells her, “I could live on strawberries my whole life.”

“You like them that much, huh?” He almost visibly cringes at the sultry tone of her voice. That’s too much. But he doesn’t say anything, nodding his head at her words. “Why?”

He freezes up for a while. Why? Well, Sunghoon has never had a care for strawberries, but that summer, your lips were so stained with strawberries it was all he could ever taste.

And he remembers how your hands traced the veins of his neck, limbs tangled with his as he kissed your strawberry lips goodnight and good morning.

“Tastes nice,” he shrugs, and the girl moves on to her next question. Sunghoon, however, tunes her out like he had wanted to since she pounced over onto his lap.

He almost curses the girl for asking him such a harmless question, cursing himself for answering it the way he did. Sunghoon doesn’t have a favourite fruit, so why did his thoughts have to travel there, to the back of his mind, where he kept all his memories with you untouched.

Ironically, Park Sunghoon is here to see you. Despite having a girl planted on his lap, he finds his eyes constantly wandering every time people enter the house — it’s an unfamiliar game of waiting, one that Sunghoon’s never played before.

Hell, Sunghoon doesn’t even know if you’re going to come, but he’s bagging on it because he knows your parents wouldn’t let you skip the chance to network with your schoolmates. And now that he’s back as your schoolmate, Sunghoon swears that he wouldn’t miss the chance to ‘network’ with you.

Speaking of the devil, you walk through the door, and Sunghoon is in awe. Pretty little black dress with black heels, and god you still looked the same, maybe even prettier — yeah, definitely more prettier.

And his heart is thumping against his rib cage, nostalgia flushing through him as Sunghoon remembers the very first time he saw you in class after he came late. One look at you and he thinks all his efforts are in vain, Sunghoon wants to touch you, call you pet names and see your cheeks flush his favourite shade of rosy red, but the weight on top of his lap stops him, and he can only watch as you walk into the kitchen without a glance towards the couch.

Then he hears your voice, it's loud and smooth like it was back then, and he remembers because every single time he hears the nickname ‘Hoon’, he hears your voice. And Sunghoon will never forget the sound of your voice calling his name over and over.

“Soobin,” you call out, “Choi Soobin,” and his shoulders drop. Soobin? Out of everyone you could move on with, you got together with him? He’s better, Sunghoon knows he is, and he can’t believe the fact that you would downgrade to a second class nerd.

Sunghoon shifts in his seat, the poor girl on his lap thrown to the side as he attempts to get a view of the open kitchen where you stood alluringly. He disregards the scoff thrown at him from the girl, who walks away with hips swinging.

God it’s that effect again, and without even a look you have him wrapped around your finger unknowingly. Sunghoon suddenly feels the need to kiss you again, and he realises how much he misses you.

How selfish of him though, to crave for you as though you were his to miss at all.

Sunghoon clears his throat, arms folded and muscles bulging, trying to be discreet about the toll you take on his mentality. He’s here and you’re just a walk away — yet why does he feel so undeserving of being next to you.

The past was just a misunderstanding, and he wouldn’t have been at fault if he didn’t just hop on a plane to the other side of the world just as you were ready to talk it out.

But there you are now and he feels as if it’s his final opportunity before you slip through his fingers. Sunghoon wants to call your name, blurt out his feelings and kiss himself better; hell he’d never admit it over his pride but he had been thinking of what to say to you when he would finally see you again.

The lump in his throat’s the size of a cherry pit as he shifts awkwardly, finding himself on the way to the kitchen, on the way to you.

And he hates it — how fidgety you make him feel, how his palms turn sweaty like a teenage boy, how out of character you make him feel.

You’re just another girl now, an ex, a stranger. Sunghoon knows he’s just lying to himself, because you’d never be a stranger to him, not when you’re in everything he sees and does, not when he’s never had the confidence to tell his parents who constantly ask about you that you’re no longer together.

Filtering through the crowded room, he prepares himself, rehearsing the words he’s always wanted to tell you. Yet a flame in his heart burned luminously green at the sight of you laughing, with a boy that wasn’t him, with Choi Soobin.

“New boyfriend already? I see the princess has downgraded from a prince to a knight,” Sunghoon looms over you, a look of distaste all over his face as he looks pointedly over at the other tall boy.

You knew he was here watching, you could feel the gaze of Park Sunghoon from a mile away. And now he’s right behind you, chest pressed against your back as Soobin looks away from you to meet his gaze.

“Sunghoon?” Soobin murmurs in confusion, and Sunghoon smirks, waving him off as a gesture to leave the both of you alone.

That was one thing you’d always hated about Sunghoon, how he used his influence to control everyone around you, as if they were unworthy of your attention.

“Stay Soobin,” you say, before you turn around to meet Sunghoon’s gaze for the first time in a long while. Your heart slams against your chests like fists on a punching bag and feelings overwhelm you. You wouldn’t label yourself as someone emotional yet whenever you’re around Sunghoon you can’t help but drown in your feelings — love, hate, anger, and longing.

Sunghoon shoots you a sharp glare before returning his gaze to Soobin and cocking his head to the side. “I think I should leave,” he mumbles, tripping over his words before he steps out of the kitchen.

And there you find yourself, face excruciatingly close to Park Sunghoon’s as you try to choke down your feelings. He looked a little different, less playful and more mature, yet he still has the same sharp features you loved, and the multiple moles peppered across his face that you used to kiss every night.

“Is this fun for you, Sunghoon?” And he winces at your tone, loaded with disappointment and frustration but he remains quiet, reaching over to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into it, his warmth and familiarity. “Hm?” Sunghoon hums, his voice deeper than it was back then, “I don’t know, is this fun for you, princess?”

You’re taken back to highschool, when Sunghoon would press you up against the cool metal lockers and tell you how pretty you are, like a princess hence the nickname he has for you. Then, you couldn’t control the vibrant red that ruled over your cheeks and ears at the sound of that nickname and now, you still can’t seem to.

“You can’t just barge in here and act like you know me, Park Sunghoon,” you seethed, “like nothing ever happened.”

“I don’t know, princess, maybe you can refresh my memory,” he grins at the way your eyebrows squeeze in irritation, “a kiss for old times sake?”

You place your palms on his chest, using force to push him away yet he doesn’t budge. “Hey sweetheart, I know you’re excited to see me but it’s a little early to be feeling me up don’t you think?”

Immediately retracting your hands, Sunghoon lets out a laugh. It’s just as melodious as you remember and you can’t help but sigh at the familiar feeling of bickering with him. “Get the fuck off me, Park Sunghoon,” you groan.

“Woah, full government name? Baby I thought we were in love.” God, you think, how you wished you could kiss his face with an uppercut. It didn’t help that he was exactly the same as he was before and everything more, because you can feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into him, more than before.

And you hated how he looked so good, like he never ghosted you and gave up on your relationship, like he wasn’t crying constantly over the memories you shared together.

“Why are you back Sunghoon,” you sigh, at least you were prepared — having cried your heart out, panicking over what to do when you’d finally see him with Karina. “Why are you here disturbing me, why can’t you just go find another girl to bother?”

It hurt you to say this, yet the clear image of Sunghoon with other girls was painted clearly in your mind. He was a player, and you felt hopeless trying to change him.

“It’s always been you, love.” He bends closer towards you holding your gaze, “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I wake up in the middle of the night calling out your name.”

“Will you please stop joking around,” you scoff at his unbelievable attempt at wooing you yet your heart pounds against the blooming flowers of your rib cage.

“Who says I’m not being serious,” he says, “besides it’s hard to find another girl to bother when you’re all everyone around me talks about.”

Your heart stops and your stomach dips as though you’ve just tumbled from a great height. It’s the closeness between the both of you that makes your knees weak, and his skin brushing against yours that jolts you like a spray of hot sparks. It’s how he knows exactly what gets to you, even if you’d never meant for him to.

His words pierce your heart, half agony half hope. And maybe if you loved him less you’d be able to bite back.

“We are long over and you know that,” you answer, so softly yet the pain drums against your whole being, “you made sure of that when you left without a word.”

Sunghoon feels constricted, and his shoulders feel the heavy weight of his guilt as he breathes. And since a few months ago, he’s always thought that the wound from your relationship had festered yet here, right in front of you, it still bleeds fresh.

“We never officially broke up,” Sunghoon points out. And he feels like such a desperate douchebag hanging onto the thinnest thread that could snap at any given second.

You scoff as you feel annoyance rise up in you, “you’d think that leaving your girlfriend to live across the world at the lowest point of your relationship literally shouts break up in every single angle.”

Sunghoon, for once, doesn’t have a cocky comeback to your words as they fizzle down his throat in silence. He opens his mouth yet bites back his tongue, guilt ridden.

You look at him, begging for an explanation that never seemed to come, “forget it, I’m an idiot for thinking that you’d ever waste your breath explaining yourse-”

“I get it, you hate me,” he groans, cutting you off as you fidget awkwardly at his words. No one could ever hate Park Sunghoon, even you — especially you. He sucks in a breath, ready to embarrass himself, bracing himself for rejection.

He can’t let you go like this, not when your heart blackens at the sight of him, not when he’s still madly in love with you.

So he does what he does best, he plays. And this time, it’s a game that he needs to win.

Park Sunghoon has a way with words, or maybe that’s just his charm — where every sentence and every word entrances, putting you in a state where you can’t seem to do anything but oblige to his commands.

You stand in one of your favourite dresses at the entrance of the restaurant, Sunghoon beside you as you try your best not to take a peek at him for the nth time.

You’re not here for him, you’re here for his mother.

At least that’s what you’ve been trying to tell yourself.

And you’ve been dreading it all, the feeling of familiarity — remembering how much you’d loved his parents, how well they treated you, and how you’d always meet up with them with Sunghoon.

Yet here you were again, a year later, trying to convince yourself that this was the closure that you needed to move on. It’s just an hour or two.

“Oh my gosh Sunghoon, you brought her,” a flowery voice cheered as you watched Mrs Park push back her chair to throw her arms around you, “I’ve been asking Sunghoon to set up a date for us to meet for the past year but he always claims you’re busy with Uni. How are you doing?”

You wrap your arms around her, a real smile blooming on your face, “I’ve been coping well, it’s much busier than I could’ve ever imagined. But I’ve never been better.”

Lie, lie, lie. It seemed like that was all you could do around things that surround your ex boyfriend; lying about your feelings, lying to his mother, lying to yourself.

“I can imagine,” she smiles, gesturing to the both of you to sit, “now that Hoon is back, I’m sure he’d look after you well.”

“Not even a hello to your own son and you’re already putting words in my mouth,” Sunghoon complains, rolling his eyes at his mother’s usual antics.

And at times like this he remembers how you’d squeeze his hands, as if warning him to listen to his mother, yet right now his hands lack the warmth yours radiate and he only has himself to blame.

After all he was the one asking you to join him, and he couldn’t have expected you to actually act like you used to. You weren’t his to touch anymore.

“It’s great that you’re back next to him,” Mrs Park comments, completely ignoring her son. “You’re the only one he listens to. He’s changed a lot since he met you.”

You let out a forced laugh, one that goes unnoticed by Mrs Park but not Sunghoon. And he questions if you actually believe his mother’s words.

Sunghoon used to think it was foolish to believe that people could truly change for the better — life was made to be a cycle, and no matter how long summer radiated, winter would still send a chill down your spine. Yet with you his world felt like constant summers in paradise, peace and comfort he hasn’t been able to find anywhere but in your arms that wrapped around his flaws and never let go.

“Barely any parties overseas, always studying,” she points out and you’re shocked at the new revelation you’d just made, “but he’s started smoking, maybe now that you’re back by his side you can fix that up.”

Sunghoon groans, “whatever.” His fingers run through his hair as you finally cave in, taking a glance at him. His sculpted features that followed you to your dreams, the rustic looking leather jacket that hugged his figure perfectly and just everything; from the way he breathes to the way he speaks. He’s everything.

Time ticks away as you find it harder and harder not to hold Sunghoon’s hand like you used to, holding yourself back from purposefully hitting his leg with yours under the table cloth just for the fun of it. And it wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying yourself — it was just how minutes felt like days being so close yet not being able to touch him.

The cold breeze of the night bites your cheeks, turning them a frosty red. You shiver as you blow hot breaths on the palms of your hand, rubbing them to keep warm only to find the weight of a jacket draped over your shoulder.

“I don’t need it,” you say to Sunghoon, without having any intention to give his jacket back, “I’m not that cold.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from a mile away, princess,” he says, lips twitching.

“Sure,” you comment, “and when you’re cold later on don’t ask for the jacket back.”

Sunghoon lets out a laugh, it’s animated and excited as his head rolls back and his mouth widens. “Don’t worry about me, love, I’ve got it covered.”

Reaching into his pocket, Sunghoon pulls out a box of cigarettes, smoothly lighting one up before he breathes out a cloud of grey smoke. And you can’t help but look.

You hold your breath at the sight — his dark eyes alight under the moonlight and his jaw tilted a few angles up, hair messy from the night’s breeze, and finger clad rings that hold such death.

It makes you scared: scared of the love you have for him. Because it has ruined you once and it will ruin you again, you’d let it ruin you again.

“You shouldn’t smoke, you know,” you start, “it’s bad for your health.”

“You’re bad for my health, sweetheart,” he answers, “yet you seem to be everywhere I am.”

The silence of night engulfs the both of you, and the chatter from the restaurant tunes out as you meet his gaze.

It’s insane, you’re going insane. “You know you can’t just do that,” you say, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Can’t just do what, love?” He hums, smoke wafting around him. And it really should have disgusted you, the way he chose to blacken his own lungs yet it didn’t. It could never.

“That,” you point out, tearing your gaze away from him. “You can’t just return out of nowhere and pretend like everything is fine. Calling me pet names, making me meet your mother because you failed to tell her about our breakup. You can’t just rope me back in after I’ve spent all my time and energy grappling out of the hold you have over me.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you desperately try to blink them away. Your vulnerability on full display for Sunghoon to read — not that he ever needed you to tell him, he could read you like an open book.

“Stop playing with me Sunghoon. I’m not just a toy you can throw around and find when you’re bored.”

Only the soft cackle at the end of Sunghoon’s cigar can be heard as he stills. And he wants to tell you that he loves you, he wants to scream it to the world. You were never a toy to him and he has always been fully devoted to you, like a religion of his.

Sunghoon doesn’t know how to say it, he can’t really put it into words: the feeling he has when he’s around you. He’s addicted to it — the feeling of being alive, like he’s known you for lifetimes after lifetimes, like he’s free.

His proclamation gets stuck in his throat as he fumbles on a thorough response. It’s always been hard for him to show his true feelings, much more to actually say it out loud.

He’s never really been an emotional person, much less a confrontational one. It was why he liked playing around; baseless actions without reason, there wasn’t any need to show his true feelings or even feel much to begin with. He never had to explain himself, not once.

And at times like this when Sunghoon’s utterly scared, he can’t do anything but accept; that maybe you and him were just meant to be a precious memory.

Maybe it was time to let you move on.

Friends with deep history. That’s what Karina decides to title your relationship with Sunghoon. And you’d never thought it’d hurt this much, given you and Sunghoon were never once considered friends.

It’s a whole different type of pain and worry that gnaws at your heart — like an emerald monster of envy as you watch him interact with other girls in ways he once did with you, to hear him call others by pet names like he used to call you.

Sunghoon lets the word ‘babe’ roll off his tongue without a second thought, it’s the only pet name he could ever bear saying without much thought of you.

‘Babe’ was conventional, normal. It was everything you were not.

And he wonders if you realise it, if you pay attention to his every word like he does to yours, if you’d really moved on and accepted the fact that the two of you were friends.

It’s weird, Park Sunghoon has never hated any word more. The sour aftertaste it left on his tongue and the tension surrounding it. Fuck friends, he thinks, it’s only been a week of such an arrangement and he can’t take it any longer.

There’s only been two types of days throughout the week — ones where you’re beside him and he can smell the familiar scent of vanilla and honey and others, where seconds felt like months and minutes felt like years.

This isn’t what he came back for. He didn’t come back just to torture himself with close proximity, he came back to touch you, kiss you, to feel your breath on his lips, to feel your heart beat against his.

It’s been a week since Sunghoon swore to himself that he’d let you move on, give you space, and finally let you go from his grasp. Yet whenever he spots you with another boy that wasn’t him, his being burns.

His heart scalds as if it’s drowning in fiery hot lava. And Sunghoon doesn’t sob or wail, his grief horribly discreet, persistent, and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound. It feels unspeakably lonely, draining and his mind’s a blank state. A sickening wet feeling.

How the memories haunt him everywhere he finds himself to be; your favourite cafe, a poster of the movie you’d made him watch multiple times he could recite half the movie script, the bitter coffee he forces down his throat just to torture himself.

“Because it’s kinda cool,” he remembers telling you, “stuff like coffee runs, or caffeine adrenaline that runs through my veins after the bitter taste coats my tongue.”

The heavenly laugh that you let out, the one that makes him want to keep on loving you. “Caffeine adrenaline, really Hoon?” You said with a grin on your face, “I don’t think there’s such a thing.”

“Yeah there is,” he insists, mirroring the goofy grin plastered on your lips, “and it makes me want to kiss you.”

Now all time does is pass and he finds himself in front of your favourite cafe, wondering if you still order your favourite chocolate pastry and get it all over your lips; if there’s someone else who kisses the stains of chocolate away like he did once.

And he shouldn’t have been surprised to see you there, in your glory, a plate of your favourite chocolate pastry in front of you half eaten.

At least some things don’t change.

He watches you intently, as you take another bite of the chocolaty goodness, nodding inattentively at the words spouted from your company’s mouth.

Sunghoon thinks the boy in front of you is doing it all wrong. If he was in front of you now he would’ve teased you for being a messy eater, bent over the table just to kiss the chocolate away from your lips as you tell him to stop while laughing.

You find your attention dwindling from the boy in front of you. He was good looking, for sure, defined features and a nice smile. But Sunghoon’s more handsome, Sunghoon looks good with and without glasses but the boy in front of you would never be able to pull glasses off.

If Sunghoon was here, he’d have already made me laugh at least thrice, he’d have planted a kiss on my lips, calling me a messy eater, he’d have already changed the topic to keep to your interests.

You look away from the boy, scanning the interior of the familiar cafe, one that was supposed to be your favourite yet you’ve never really thought much about the interior or their food. Everything’s dull and you figure that maybe it’s the company you’re around that matters instead.

The cafe wasn’t your favourite, Sunghoon was. With his witty comebacks and chivalrous smirk, the tall figure and eyes you could stare at for days.

And then you see him, and he’s just there. You don’t know what to think anymore. Just that you’re here and he’s here. That you’re supposed to hate him for leaving yet you can’t find a tinge of hate in your heart. That moving on was clearly for the better but everything’s mundane without him.

Sunghoon’s already looking at you, and when you meet his gaze he lets out a string of curses under his breath. This wasn’t a good idea. You and him in a place scattered everywhere in your memories, just a few steps away yet miles apart at the same time.

He can’t take it any longer. So Sunghoon leaves, fingers clenching the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

You frown at the sight of his back, turning as he left the cafe without a second thought. A sense of déjà vu encompasses you. Is this how it’s always going to be — turning away from each other without a smile, seeing him everywhere yet not being able to talk to him, holding the label of friends but never having a proper conversation?

“Hey, you okay love?” You grimace at the name he calls you, looking back at the boy who did nothing but blabber away all this while.

“Uhm, I think I have to go,” you say, chair pushed back hurriedly as you make your way out without a second thought. Head turning to find a boy in a denim jacket, the boy that held your heart in his hands.

“Sunghoon,” you call once you spot him, puffs of smoke wafting over and around him as he leans gorgeously against a wall. “Is this really how it’s going to be?”

Sunghoon lifts the cigarette between his fingers, cold eyes that once held no emotion seemingly brightening at the sight of you. “What are you doing here princess?” He asks, small puffs of smoke exiting his mouth as he talks, “boy not to your liking? He seemed bland.”

“Why are you doing this Sunghoon,” you say exasperatedly, “why are you everywhere that I am, why do you follow me in everything that I do.”

“Am I distracting you from your dates, love?” Sunghoon laughs, and you’re annoyed at how he dodges your questions perfectly, how he manages to twist everything yet hit the nail on the head.

“You promised me that you’d let me move on,” you pause, catching your breath, “you owe me that. You owe me space.”

“You think it’s that easy to give you up?” Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow as the cigarette in his finger dims and drops to the ground, “I wasn’t lying when I said that you’re all around me. I can’t even-”

“Then why,” you cut him off, vision already blurry, “why did you leave without a word, why did you leave just when I was ready to talk, why didn’t you answer the thousand messages I left you, why did I have to find out you were gone from someone that wasn’t you. Why?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Sunghoon says shakily.

“You didn’t have a choice?” You scoffed, “I cry myself to sleep wondering who you were talking to instead of me, wondering why you did me so wrong and everything that was wrong with me. I checked my phone, Sunghoon, every fucking ten minutes hoping to see your name on the screen and if it wasn’t I would cry again and again. You always come and go as you please, whatever is convenient for you. I bet you’ve never once thought of my feelings, yet all I could think about was if you were coping well on the other side of the world.”

Sunghoon stands and he marvels, your words striking him like a final knockout blow. And its realisation all over again that he loved you, he loves you, and you still loved him.

He’s always thought you’d hate him for what he’s done, the suffering he’s brought into your life. Being serious never yielded him much results so he kept pretending, passing it over.

“And you think I didn’t,” he wails, and it’s the first time you’ve seen perfection with flaws, “you think I didn’t look at your texts and cry? You think I’ve never had any sleepless nights thinking if texting you back would be the right choice? I thought it would’ve been the best for you, I wouldn’t have been able to treat you the way you would’ve wanted to be treated and I didn’t know how long my father would’ve made me stay there if I didn’t beg to come back.”

“But now that you’re here in front of me, I’ve realised how stupid I must have been to make such a decision. I missed you and I still miss you even when you’re here — and it occurs to me that I’ll probably never move on from you because you’re the first person I’ve ever truly loved unconditionally, the only one that’s ever mattered.”

A strangled sob of tears leaves your throat as you bury your face in his chest, trembling wildly as tears travel down your cheeks. “I hate you,” you croak out, fists clenched, “I hate that I miss you.”

“I missed you everywhere.” He says, fingers running through your hair to your back. And for the first time, Sunghoon lets the pain and ache bleed into his voice.

“Here,” he says and his lips brush against the place your heart beats, “and I’ve missed you here.”

Once Sunghoon kisses you, your heart slows and everything seems so dreamy. How much you needed him terrified you, and you couldn’t imagine that this was what love was like for everyone. Maybe it was just you, just you and Sunghoon. Maybe together you were just a volatile entity that would either implode or melt together, thrilling and exotic, sweet and heavenly.

It’s silent for a minute and you miss his voice again.

After a period of sadness, happiness doesn’t just jump in your life. It grows slowly into the cracks and fissures of you, like small plants that sprout in cracked concrete.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” Sunghoon mutters into your mouth as his arms wrap around your waist. Your arms around his neck as he hoists you up in the waters of his swimming pool.

It’s weird, how it feels like he’s never left. And ever since you’d cried your hearts out in each other's arms, you’ve both been making an effort to communicate with each other.

“You just kissed me, Hoon,” you laugh, water droplets harmonising with the sound of your laughter. And Sunghoon just stares like he did last night and the night before. He isn’t obsessed, yet when your fingers run through his hair he can’t help but think he is.

“I know, but I want to,” he grins, “I want to kiss you again.”

“You don’t have to ask,” you say in slow tenderness. His star mapped skin, cacophony of laughter, and his smile that makes you feel a little less alone — it makes you feel like the sun’s out in the middle of the midnight sky.

“Consent is what hot guys do,” he smirks, and you almost fall back in laughter.

“Really?” You reply, “I don’t see any hot guys around here?”

Sunghoon groans, “I’m right here? You’re saying that as if you don’t want a piece of me.”

You don’t think twice before leaning into Sunghoon, thoughtlessly holding him as you fall in love all over again with all your heart.

“You know who I want a piece of,” you sigh, head buried in the crook of his neck. “This new hot guy in school, everyone’s been raving about him for the past month. Bet he kisses well.”

“Oh,” Sunghoon gasps, “what is his name?�� You roll your eyes at his facade of obliviousness.

“I think it’s Park Sunghoon,” your lips raise as you turn to look at him.

“That’s me baby,” he chuckles, “too bad I already have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you frown.

“Yeah, too bad I’m all hers,” he mirrors your frown, “now can my girlfriend allow me to kiss her?”

You giggle, nodding your head before Sunghoon presses his lips on yours. And it’s everything and nothing at once — heartbeats merging as one, heaven’s on your lips and Sunghoon feels the need to repeatedly repent his sins. He wants to touch you until his palms burn.

And unlike the rollercoaster of emotions his heart once felt, it feels calm, it feels as though he’s finally returned home.

© SJYUNS

[notjustjavierpena]

Eat

A/N: Pussy? Eaten. Stomach? Butterflies. Hotel? Trivago.  Think this takes place short after Gush.

Summary: You tell Joel that you cannot come from getting eaten out, but he isn’t convinced. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, soft soft soft and patient joel, nipple play, pussy eating, dirty talk, intense orgasm, pet names , bit of praise kink and body worship

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49669783

Eat

Joel has you completely naked and pinned to his bed. It’s a Saturday afternoon, sun is pining in through the curtains and heating up the room that’s already warm from your bodies being entwined. You have yet to get out of bed despite needing a shower, perhaps some food for your growling stomach, and maybe a glass of ice water from how sweaty your body is when you are in the older man’s proximity. He makes your heart pound.

He hovers over you whilst on his knees between your legs, hands on your wrists and gaze hungry as he contemplates what he wants to do with you. Your stomach drops as he asks, “Will you lemme have it? Lemme eat your pussy, princess?”

It’s not that you don’t think this is sexy. It is just that. Though, despite how many times Joel has made you come during the summer, he actually hasn’t gone down on you yet. 

He has tried a million times though, but you have always playfully pushed his head away every time he has tried to descend on your body, distracted him with a blowjob, or made him finger your cunt instead. At this point, you still haven’t told him that the reason is that you simply don’t like it. 

“Joel,” you avoid his gaze, turn your head away, “I—“

Joel hasn’t heard hesitation from you before, only the jokes that he hasn’t taken to heart. He lets go of one of your wrists, takes hold of your chin, and guides your head back so you face him again. He furrows his brow at the uncertainty in your eyes that meet his, “What’s a’ matter?”

“Nothing,” you play dumb, avoiding his curious look once more but he snaps his fingers in front of you to regain your attention. You groan at how well it works, “Why would anything be wrong? It’s just… I don’t really like it. I can’t come from it.”

Joel narrows his eyes slightly, not convinced, “Why’d you think you can’t come from it?”

“This guy I was with,” you begin and it’s Joel’s turn to look uncertain. You want to roll your eyes; doesn’t he know that he has ruined everyone else for you by now? 

“Years ago,” you add, “He told me I took too long, so maybe I just, you know, couldn’t. I didn’t want to try again.” 

Joel doesn’t get pissed at the guy or start a rant like you expect him to do (something about that boy taking this sort of experience from you and turning it into something negative). Instead, he starts laughing to the point where he needs to rest his forehead against your shoulder to calm himself because the pout you give him just makes him laugh harder. 

“What?” You push at his head in annoyance. He cannot even hold onto your other wrist anymore. 

“Took too long. Jesus,” his laughter is interrupted by a cough. You can feel his chest vibrating against your own, “He was bullshittin’ you, baby girl. What a lazy piece of shit, and what range of stupid lil’ fuckers you’ve allowed to have what’s mine.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I hate it,” you squirm underneath him at his choice of words, reaching for his hair with your hands to pull at it gently, “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“It is kinda funny,” he looks up at you through his lashes. There’s something sweet to his voice whilst his eyes darken, “Hey now. It’s just… ya said ya didn’t squirt either, and then fuckin’ wet the bed.”

You go beet red, “Joel. God.”

“I’m merely a man just tryna prove a point,” he jokes, earning a glare. Something shifts a little in the air and then he isn’t playing anymore, “Will ya lemme try? Just f’me? We can stop anytime you want.”

“I don’t know,” you sound unsure. 

“We’ll go reeeal slow,” he pushes.

“O-okay,” you say. What’s the harm in letting him try? It’s not like it is uncomfortable for you, but rather just slightly boring and awkward. 

“Okay’s not a yes, princess,” Joel crawls up to try to kiss your uncertainty away. He pecks your lips over and over again, switching not long after to pepper your face with more gentle kisses instead. They’re scattered across your cheeks, lips, nose, above your eyebrows, soft eyelids, and chin. He doesn’t let up until you giggle sweetly. 

“Yes!” You squeak and mess up his hair, “Eat some damn pussy, if it means that much to you.”

“Try to relax for me,” he instructs and pushes himself to sit up again. His eyes have darkened further, “How do you want ya legs?”

You bend your legs, planting your feet firmly on the bed and spreading yourself open enough for Joel’s broad shoulders to fit between your thighs. He doesn’t go down yet though, keeping his promise of taking things slow in case you want to stop before it gets too intense. 

His lips connect to where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing his nose firmly into you to inhale your scent. It must be nothing but sleep and sweat by now. He opens his mouth against your skin, sucks across your collarbone until he reaches your jugular notch. He dips his tongue into the dent, and licks off the sweat before murmuring, “I can feel you not relaxin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a pounding heart and you mean it, curl your toes, but he shushes you immediately. 

“No, no. This ain’t on you, baby. Tell me what I can do to make ya relax,” he pulls back to look at your face. He looks so gorgeous with the sun hitting his body like this. 

“Talk to me,” you whisper without knowing why. 

“My baby wants to hear how gorgeous she is?” He asks as he goes back to putting his mouth on your throat. You tip your head back, and he hums against you, “How perfect ‘n beautiful ‘n sexy? Perhaps a little spoiled too?”

“Mhm, yes,” you rest your hand on the back of his neck when he starts to descend. His lips trail down between your breasts, and his huge palm covers one of them whilst he sucks on the other. He is eager, cheeky enough to tug your nipple into his mouth with his teeth. You moan softly.

“Fuckin’ love your tits, Jesus, look at you,” he mumbles absentmindedly to himself before going back in. He dares to suck a light purple mark onto your skin just close enough to your nipple so that you can cover it up and keep it a secret between the two of you even if going to the lake with friends and wearing your skimpy bikini.

You groan and arch your back when he switches to the other one of your tits, cupping it still whilst lapping at your nipple. He flicks his tongue across it just when you think he might pull away, causing you to let out a long drawn-out whine. 

“You fuckin’ love that, don’t ya?” He kisses the swell of your breast, tugs a little with his hand. You close your eyes, bolts of arousal shooting up your spine again when he suckles once more. 

Slowly, you find that much of the nervousness is seeping out of your body with every kiss, lick and suck of your salty skin. It may be the time to admit that Joel knows just which buttons to push to turn you into putty. It may also be the time to admit that you are starting to get excited about what is going to happen. Nervous but excited.

“You’re so soft… like damn silk,” he admires whilst he goes lower. His nose brushes along the length of your stomach, tickling a little to the point where you shiver and let out a soft sigh. He relishes in it, “Damn, baby. Listen to that sound.”

You rake your nails across his scalp when he nips at your skin. Heat is pooling in your belly and you can feel slick drip onto the sheets, running down the cleft of your ass, “Touch my pussy, Daddy.”

Joel tenses visibly at the nickname. He grips your hip, and somehow becomes a little rougher in everything he does, “Gotta wait. Maybe your disaster college boyfriend didn’t get ya worked up enough. I definitely ain’t gonna make that mistake.”

He crawls further down, kisses open-mouthed and hot right below your belly button several times. Even places the flat of his tongue against the skin there to lick long languid stripes, “Won’t start until you beg me to kiss your little twitchin’ clit.”

“But I’m so wet,” you pout, flexing the muscles in your stomach. When you try lifting your hips to find some kind of friction, he pushes you right back down into the mattress. 

“Stop,” he warns sternly. The hand on your hip runs across your belly, teases over your mound and ghosts over your clit until you cry feebly for him, “Do you want me to just touch ya between your pretty legs?” 

“I told you I don’t like the other thing,” you reply to spite him and egg him on. He smacks one of your thighs, wiggling the flesh after. 

“Liar,” he breaks eye contact to look right down at your cunt. You are sure that he can see how you clench around nothing, clit so hard that it is exposed from underneath the hood. You are so ready for him to follow through, no matter the nervousness in your body, “The anticipation wouldn’t have you this excited if yadidn’t care. You’ll fuckin’ let Daddy live between your thighs after he’s done eating.” 

“Fine,” you huff, spreading your legs further to punctuate your sentence, “Put your mouth on my pussy. Prove it.”

Joel groans at the sight of you giving in to him. He gets comfortable on the bed, legs hanging out over the edge. One arm scoops underneath you to curl around your right thigh and the other rests on top of your left. He splays his hand across your sternum, and almost automatically, you reach for it and tug at two of his fingers as if needing something to hold onto for dear life. 

“Now we talkin’,” he smirks. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt, heart almost beating out of your chest with how horny you feel. That, and the fact that what Joel is about to do to you seems to be the most intimate thing you can think of. It feels dangerous, exciting, and scary.

You put another pillow behind your back and head, so you can watch him over the top of your tits and his hand. He grumbles but waits. 

“Go,” you say with an apologetic smile, “Just wanted to see you.”

“Ain’t you adorable?” Joel gazes up at you to follow through on your wish, “Ready?”

“Just wanna come now,” you promise, “‘m just nervous. Makes me fidget.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, breath ghosting over your pussy as he lowers himself down slowly, “Makes ya toes curl too.” 

You cannot quite believe that you have Joel Miller’s face between your legs right now, and even less so believe the hungriest smile in history that he is sporting. It is enough to make you blush, letting go of Joel’s hand and reaching up to cup your face when the anticipation becomes overwhelming. You rest your pinkies in front of your mouth, palms burning from being clasped around your cheeks but it feels like you might lose it if you let go.

The simple brush of his tongue that he chooses as a starting point has you squirming on the bed. His tongue is warm and flat against you, licking how he had done it against the sensitive skin of your stomach. 

Your stomach muscles twitch. It feels… good. Better than the first time you did it. 

“Okay?” He asks in a hum, looking up at you through his lashes with genuine eyes. You nod slowly, and he lowers again to press a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. 

And then another.

And another. 

You make a noise best described as a soft sigh. 

Then he goes lower, the kisses becoming more sloppy and wet. He stops when he reaches your quivering cunt, lets out his tongue to scoop up some of the slick that has gathered and is spilling down between your cheeks. He then licks a long stripe all the way up to your clit, and laps at it like he is eating a damn ice cream cone. 

“Mhmm, tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, like heaven,” he continues with his small licks, the hand on your chest finding your left nipple. Tugs like he knows you like. 

You moan for the first time, not sure if you have repressed the urge to do so. He takes it as a sign to keep going, stiffening his tongue to run it between your folds repeatedly and eventually settling on your clit again. He flicks the tensed-up muscle against the nub, setting up a pace that suddenly causes you to whine.

“Ohh,” you swallow thickly, part your lips and breathe heavily. A muscle in the thigh that Joel is holding flexes involuntarily, and you can feel him smirk against you when he moves back to open-mouthed kisses. 

“No, go back,” you demand, “Please.”

“Yeah?” Joel pulls back instead to tease you. He removes his hand from your thigh to suck his thumb into his mouth. He makes you tremble at the sight, but even more when he circles your clit with the pad of the finger after, “You like Daddy’s tongue on your pussy, baby?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“Say it,” he still draws lazy circles.

“Feels so good,” you admit finally with a groan, “You’re always right.”

“Know I am,” he kisses your inner thigh. The hand on your breast moves to rub soothingly up and down your belly, “‘bout time you realized.”

“I want you to keep going,” you say with a shy smile, blinking down at him, “Please, Daddy?”

His hands still on you, but then he reaches to place both hands on your inner thighs to spread you out a little further. You fall back into the pillow, and he sinks into you again, “Whatever baby wants, baby gets.”

You have never actually thought about how big his mouth is before. In fact, it is huge in comparison to everything about you. He is able to stretch his lips over every inch of your cunt, and he gladly does.

Your breath hitches before you let out a drawn-out moan. Joel eats you out enthusiastically; he licks, sucks, and even dips his tongue inside of you for a moment too. You can feel the world closing in on you, shrinking to nothing but the pressure that builds. 

“It’s—“ you want to say something that makes sense, because whatever you had done in the dim light of your college dormitory a few years prior was definitely not this, but there are no words that describe how overwhelming his slick tongue is, “It’s— oh God.”

You squeal pathetically as your cunt teeters on the edge of an orgasm. You try to press your thighs inwards to make the intensity go away, but Joel is so much stronger than you.

It hits you then. Fuck, it’s going to happen; you’re going to come with his mouth between your legs, and he is never going to let you live this down. This is not what you had planned. There is a little part of you that knows you would have relished in being right for once, but there’s a much bigger part that thanks the Gods that you aren’t going to live forever without coming like this. 

You close your eyes as you groan, but it makes Joel slow down, “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart, look at me.”

He sucks again, and your hands fly to his hair, but it only goes on for a second, “Ya doing so well. Does it feel good, princess?”

“You’re being mean,” you whimper, tugging at the strands of hair that you have between your fingers, “Make me come.”

Joel follows through then. He buries his nose in your mound and sucks your clit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks with how much effort he puts into it. When you start thrashing on the bed, he wraps his arms around your legs and holds you tightly in place until you fall apart right below his mouth. 

You shriek as your cunt spasms. If not for Joel’s strength, you are sure that you would have accidentally kneed him in the face, because your legs lose control of themselves as if the orgasm has severed any connection to them. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” you break the swearing rule as your orgasm peaks, pushing and pulling his head away because you don’t have a clue whether you want more or less. Your back arches as Joel keeps licking through your drenched folds, you think you might have started to cry too. 

Shaking breaths echo through Joel’s bedroom as you come down. Joel has removed your hands from his head, and you have slumped into the mattress with a whimper. Nothing has ever felt more dirty. 

“Are you okay?” He asks after crawling up the bed to lay beside you. He rubs your stomach with his broad hand, and even that makes you let out a feeble sigh. 

You laugh with exhaustion, but don’t reply. 

“I do good?” He asks with a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his hand over his soaked mouth and chin. 

You turn your head to look at him but then start giggling, pointing to your own nose, “You got a little… you know.”

He doesn’t get it when he wipes his hand over his nose the first time. You laugh harder due to the dopamine flowing through your system, and he grumbles, “Well help me then, kiddo.” 

When you beckon him closer, he moves without hesitation, and as you run your index finger down his nose to catch your own shiny arousal, you try to push down the feeling of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

It’s a feeling that needs to go away. You can’t possibly love Joel Miller and survive.

.

.

.

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[teyamsatan]

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ: ɪ'ʟʟ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

pairing: dilf!Jake Sully x (f)human/avatar!reader

synopsis: It took a lot of time and advancements, but, with the humans' return to Pandora 8 years ago, and thanks to the constant raids of the Omaticaya, the scientists managed to make you and Spider an Avatar. Unlike him, though, you know nothing about and want nothing to do with it, and when your struggle to adapt becomes too overbearing, Jake decided to take matters into his own hands.

this story will contain an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship, and dark themes (smut, mental health, death, violence, infidelity), so pls read at your own discretion.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, age-gap (23 vs 43), pet names.

wc: 4.5k words

a/n: hi besties, and welcome to my first jake series! i have had this series in my mind for so so long, and it feels good to bring it to life finally. i am excited to get back into writing - i needed a little time to recharge after monster in me, and take a break and actually sleep and live my life hahahaha. anyway, i hope you enjoy this story, i'm so excited to write it and see where it takes me! xx

ps: this story will move perspectives and timelines a lott, so i hope it's not too confusing but pls do let me know if it is and i'll figure something out xx

replies and reblogs are massively appreciated, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: tanhi - bioluminescent freckles, tsamsiyu - warrior, tawtute - human

series masterlist (x)

I want you to know, I’m a mirrorball I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight

It was excruciating, the pain. It was never-ending, never relenting, it was enough to warrant the current position you found yourself in, curled up on your bed, knees brought close to your chest, hands grasping at your worn-down pyjamas, that much like everything else in this room, smelled like him, felt like him, was imbued with his presence and the memories he’s left that you’d never be able to forgive or forsake. Glossed-over eyes moved slowly through your room, at all the little trinkets you now had that you didn’t just a few months, all of them sharp and painful as they felt like they were digging painfully in you, leaving cuts and bruises in your already broken heart. Eventually, your gaze settled on a feather you were given the first day in your Avatar body, and it was an appropriate place to stop, as this was when it all began - this whole mess, that you were still debating whether it was worth it, worth all this, but which, at the time, was a pure and innocent new start, in a new body, in a new life.

I'll get you out on the floor Shimmering beautiful And when I break it's in a million pieces

“Come on, honey, it’s late already. You know life in the village starts early.”

The dragging of your feet did very little to make you appear more enthusiastic than you were feeling currently, and Norm sighed as he took it your deflated predisposition. It should be a happy time. You knew that. How many people can say that got a new chance, at a new life, on this planet that felt weirdly in between a home and a prison? A new chance to belong - the first one, actually. A chance to thrive and to experience this world the way it was meant to be experienced, the way that the natives experienced it. And yet, a few weeks in, you still felt like a complete stranger in a body you couldn’t recognise, in a culture that has never been your own, in a village that has never accepted you, that never ceased to look at you and see through you, right to the flimsy core of insecurities and self-doubts that plagued you constantly, that followed you everywhere you went, like a shadow in a dimly-lit room.

You looked across the room where the other neuro-link pod was being prepped, and next to it stood the only other young, human, adult on Pandora - your brother for all intents and purposes, the boy who you loved always, but hated in the moment, as you watched his lively and animated body language, practically beaming with anticipation. Spider, unlike you, settled in his new taller, bluer, shinier body almost immediately - a born acrobat, a made warrior, even before the Avatars were complete. He had no such compulsions, no shame or guilt, no embarrassment or anxiety, no feelings of inadequacy or imposter syndrome, just a pure, unadulterated joie de vivre and unquenchable fear of missing out. He got everything he’s ever wanted with that Avatar, and unlike you, he didn’t seem willing to squander the opportunity. You knew you should be more like him, and you were trying. The effort just wasn’t enough to overthrow the paralysing fear you felt every time you stepped foot in that village. You wondered if it ever will.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, doing your very best to ignore the racket coming from just a few pods over, you allowed Norm to close the lid on top of your caged body, doing your very best to clear your head of the screaming voice that got louder by the second, the harder you tried. You’ll never make it. You will never be one of the people.

Hush When no one is around, my dear You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

Life in the village did indeed start early, and while you walked away from Hell’s Gate and through the thick forest that surrounded you, you could already hear faint sounds coming from the general direction of the Omaticaya settlement, a dead giveaway people were preparing for what the day would inevitably bring, from training in the healing practices of the Tsa’hik or the warrior skills of the tsamsiyu, it was the relentless will to improve and contribute to the overall wellness of each other and their planet that fuelled Na’vi every day.

Soon enough, the carefully crafted tents came into view, each one unique to the owner, with pieces of bone or hides that gave it a personal, intimate appeal, and it was easy enough, once you knew the people, to be able to tell who each tent belonged to. You smiled as your eyes fixed on one tent in particular, small and understated, despite who it was inhabiting it - Neteyam, future Olo’eyktan, never found any use for unnecessary embellishments, be it on his person or any of his belongings, always preferring to keep the showing off to the actual battle or training, his impressive skill set and his ability to thrive in every challenge his brightest adornment. When he came out of it, like he could sense you were near, your smile widened taking him in, in all his tall, blue, muscular beauty. He was a handsome young man, the perfect mix between Neytiri and… him. He used to look more like his mother when he was younger, but now, all of 23 years old, he was more and more Jake with each passing day, and the thought both intrigued and scared you, almost in equal parts.

It intrigued you because, well… because there was something special about Jake, there always has been. Not just because he was the first and only human to do the consciousness transfer, to be accepted into the clan, to become one of the people, or that he was Toruk Makto, one of only 6 to have ever existed; not because he was Olo’eyktan, and a revered warrior and leader… but because he was him. He was kind and patient, he was sweet and caring, he was funny and fun… he was everything.

On the other hand, it was for the exact same reasons that Neteyam’s resemblance to his dad scared you. Because every time you looked at him, you saw Jake, and the feelings you harboured for him since you were old enough to pay attention, that dwindled in time, were mingled with the deep familial affection you felt for Neteyam, who has been your best friend since you were old enough to... well, have memories. You didn’t want your relationship with him to be marred by feelings you couldn’t, wouldn’t ever feel for him, you didn’t want your history erased by the possibility of more, not when it would be wrong - not when, at your core, you would just settle for him because you couldn’t get the person you really wanted.

“Oi! A little late for the mighty warrior to be coming out of his tent, isn’t it?”

Neteyam snickered as he noticed you and Spider approaching, and shook his hand in Spider’s direction.

“Why is she this mean only to me?”

Spider shrugged and patted Neteyam on the shoulder simpathetically.

“Girls, man… Am I right? Anyway, going to find Lo’ak and Kiri. See you guys on the training grounds.”

Hush I know they said the end is near But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

As Spider took his leave, almost skipping to the Tsa’hik’s tent, where he knew Kiri would be, you started walking quietly, anxiety rising in your chest with each step taken towards the grounds, where you’d once again, as you have for the past few weeks, prove to yourself and everyone around you that you weren’t made for this - the fighting, the battles, the wielding of death machines, be it a gun or a bow, none of it was yours to take, yours to concur. You were made for the labs, for the quiet, analytical lifestyle. You were made for wielding a guitar, and playing it until the strings broke, you were made for daydreams and illusions and fantasies you could only fathom yourself part of, for a happier, easier world that would allow you to be all of those things without incursions. Alas, the world was not what you envisioned for yourself when you were younger, and with this great opportunity, came sacrifices you hoped time would lessen and sweeten, and turn them into blessings in disguise.

“Are you ready for today?”

“Does that make a difference?”

Neteyam’s sigh was answer enough for you. He tried to help, he really did. He went above and beyond for you and you were grateful. He was a patient teacher and a great friend, and his determination, as always, came at a cost, the cost of another burden he had to carry, another person he had to parent and take care of, and while it was not lost on you, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

“You’re going to be okay. You just have to give yourself time to grow. You can’t compare yourself with Spider, who’s been in the village with us his whole life. It’s going to take you time and effort, but you can do this, Tawte. And I’ll be here, at every step, ready to catch you if you fall.”

You smiled a little, slightly distracted, as you always were, by his sweet nickname, and your thoughts flowed gently at the memories that stirred in you whenever he said it, at the way the first word he ever uttered as a babe was a slurred version of a word he heard all the time from his mother: tawtute... human. From her mouth, it was laced with poison and disdain, but not from Neteyam's, who loved you, ever since you were young, who accepted you for who you were. Tawte was a gentle reminder of how far you've come, and how the familial love between the two of you hasn't faltered through time, but only blossomed and deepened, much to your eternal gratitude.

And they called off the circus, burned the disco down When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me

Your eyes, hidden behind a sea of glossy tears settled on the next item, the broken tip of an arrow, that you kept since that day, when you somehow did so poorly in bow practice, you managed to break an incredibly sturdy arrow, much to Spider and Lo'ak's amusement, and much to your deep dismay. You thought how about your feelings of inadequacy were exacerbated by the Olo'eyktan's watchful eyes, who observed you intently the whole time, and how that inadvertently set everyone's gaze on you. So many eyes - watching, judging...fearful; so many words - whispered and snickered, and it hurt. It all hurt. But then... he changed everything, not just in that moment, so far removed from you now, but for the rest of your life, with just a few simple words.

“What?” the shock couldn't be shaken off your face, no matter how hard you tried. You knew you needed to get a grip of your emotions, but that was always easier said than done for a girl who was aptly described her whole life as "wearing her heart on her sleeve".

“Ouch, kid. You’re hurting my feelings. I would have liked to think anyone would be honoured to be personally trained by the Olo’eyktan, but I think I’ve been humbled.”

“No, Jake… of-of course I am, I just think… your efforts are better spent on someone else, someone… who’s worthy of it.”

It was minuscule, the change, but it was there - his eyes, his smile had an edge to them, that wasn't there before. He wasn't happy with your words, and yet, he remained calm and maintained the easy, outgoing, friendly nature of his tone.

“How about you let me decide what my efforts are better spent on, kid?”

That was enough to shut you up, but when he noticed the purple tinge in your cheeks, and the way your gaze dropped in shame, his expression softened. He brought a hand to your face, his thumb grazing your chin so that you'd look up at him, and you hoped the shudder that tried you went unnoticed to him, and to the rest of the clan.

“Here’s the deal. I think part of the reason you are having such a hard time is because you’re here, in this village you’ve never truly been a part of, with so many watchful eyes on you. You feel the pressure of performing well in front of the people, in front of my kids… in front of Spider. You shouldn’t have to do that. So, my solution is simple: you and I go for a few days’ hunt. I will teach you the basics, like I learnt when I first joined the Omaticaya. This way you get to relax a little, get to remove yourself from this place for a while and enjoy the beauty of Pandora, and who knows, kid? Maybe you'll find it's easier to be a part of us than you ever could have imagined. What do you say, mm?"

I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural All I do is try, try, try

How could you have said no to such an offer? Even now, with all this hindsight, standing on the edge of a cliff with so much room beneath you to fall, with one foot on the ledge and the other on a banana fruit peel, able to look at the situation from a vantage point you only got with all the months of history you've amassed, even now... you still would say yes. Because no matter the pain and the hurt that now seeped into you like rain through the cracks in the withered, dry ground, soaking into every facet of it... just like the rain, his presence and memory also gave you life, a purpose, a way to go on. And you wouldn't give that up, not while there was still breath in your lungs.

So you said yes. And you left, that same day, on the back on his beautiful ikran, for a long ride that would take you somewhere deep in lands you've never experienced before, away from whispers and prying eyes, away from the doubt and the fear. As you were flying far above the world you've known and loved your whole life, that scared you your whole life, you couldn't help but think of what Jake was doing, and feel grateful for it. You thought about how it only consolidated the way you've always viewed him, as a great warrior, a great father, a great mentor... a great man. You thought about your crush, and how it embarrassed you as a teenager, and how you couldn't look him in the eye whenever he came to the lab and asked you a question, how you couldn't be around him without thinking you're gonna catch fire. That was long ago.

It passed, you thought. The crush, slightly weird and completely unattainable, passed through time. Yet here you stood, bare back, yet another foreign feeling you were trying to get used to, flush against his muscular chest, his palm protectively wrapped around your abdomen, and somehow, you forgot to take in the beauty of this world you’ve never seen from such a high vantage point, forgot to enjoy the fact you were literally flying, the air flowing through your luscious, thick hair… you forgot to breathe.

“You okay there, kid? Tell me if this is overwhelming, we can take a break.”

“N-no. I’m alright…Thank you.”

“Good girl.”

I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything To keep you looking at me

Jake struggled to rationalise how things could have ever ended up this way. How did this happen? A few short months ago, it seemed, his life was... normal, or as normal as life could be in the middle of an ongoing territorial war with a species that was once his own, that he now disowned, that he now despised most days. Still. Normal. The same way it had been since he arrived on Pandora, since he mated with Neytiri, since he had one kid, and then another, and another...

He's known you since you were born. He took pity on you, much like he did Spider, for the cruelness of the Universe, for whatever it took for you to be born on this planet he loved, but knew was inhospitable to those who weren't made for it. Aliens. That was about the extent of your similarities to Spider, though. Unlike him, you were sweet, docile, quiet. You never came out to the village, and the few times you did, you just stood in a corner, on some tree stump, clinging to Neteyam like a little lost puppy.

How did it end up this way? It was wrong, it was all wrong. He knew it in his heart he had to stop, and he's been trying... so hard, it was all so hard. In these months, despite his mind telling him otherwise, urging him to consider all he stood to lose, he still ended up putting his life, everything he's built up on the line for you, doing things that frightened him, ashamed him, embarrassed him, but that he couldn't stop doing because it was you. And you were everything, and the way you made him feel was everything. And it all started that night.

The training was not necessarily any less painful than it had been, but he was right - it was easier. He was a good teacher, you told him. You say you understood now where Neteyam got it from, his penchant for imparting wisdom in a calm, collected and patient manner. He went through all the basics, and after a good few hours, he felt like you were almost... relaxed. By eclipse, you were hunched over food that he was preparing over fire, while practicing your Na'vi - the only thing you felt comfortable enough to call yourself good in, and for the first time since you got your Avatar, you looked... happy. You needed this and he knew it. You didn't even know it for yourself, but he knew. And thinking about it, and him, made you blurt out a secret you held in your soul for years and years, before your mind had enough time to talk you out of it.

“I used to have a crush on you, you know?” You chuckled a little, and Jake was fascinated by the sound, which sounded less like a laugh and more like bells chiming in the wind, and by the purple tinge of your cheeks as you confessed something that he couldn’t believe his ears, that were now pushed back flat in shock.

“You used to have a crush on me?”

His tone amused you even further, it seemed, because you brought a hand to your mouth to stifle the sound Jake felt a sudden desire to continue hearing for the rest of his life.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know, kid, just… never thought out of everyone in this village, and the labs, people your own age, including my kids and Spider, you’d ever have a crush on an old man like me.” He chuckles his own rugged, awkward laugh and looks over at you, the way he couldn’t stop himself doing, it seemed, to gauge for a reaction that he didn’t know whether he wanted to see.

“I think that was part of the charm, actually.” As you catch yourself talking, you stop and turn, the tinge in your cheeks no longer a tinge but a splash of violent colour as you pat yourself aggressively with both hands, to release some of the heat that pooled unwelcome in your face. “I… I really should not… say things.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused and intrigued at the new development. “So you like ‘em older, huh, kid? Always the shy and quiet ones, ain’t that so?”

You retreat further in yourself at the way he just called you out, unconsciously making yourself smaller by bringing your knees in and wrapping your arms around them, your face buried in between your legs in embarrassment and you let out a small groan. You couldn’t believe this was happening to you. First time in your life you were fully alone with this great man, this man that is a legend, that will have history books written about him even back on Earth, this man that knew so much and achieved enough to last lifetimes and instead of learning from him, instead of doing what you came here to do to begin with, here you are, running your mouth faster than your brain could catch up, making sure you would never be able to look him in the eyes ever again.

“Are you still playing that guitar of yours? You used to drive Neytiri crazy with that thing when you were young.”

“Yeah, I still play, just, I keep it to the rec centre mostly.”

“Why?”

“I just... don’t want to bother anyone.”

You sounded sad, too sad. He saw your eyes swimming with tears and he cringed at the way he was unable to make you feel fully comfortable around him. This shouldn't be this hard.

“Ah, kid… you can play in the village. The Omaticaya love music, they’re called the Flute Clan for cryin’ out loud. They just need time.”

“It’s been 23 years.”

Jake didn’t push anymore, not when you were right. It’s been a long enough time, but some things… some things don’t get better with time. Jake’s always hated that stupid old saying anyway.

“Y’know… I play a little guitar, too.” He scoffs a little as he thinks more about it. “Well, used to play. Probably not any good anymore, but at some point, I used to be.”

Your eyes shoot to him and the glimmer in them makes Jake’s mind come to a standstill - they were so beautiful. You were so beautiful.

“Really? That’s amazing!” And just like that, your previous outburst was swiftly forsaken and forgotten, the new piece of information far too exciting for you to dwell on anything else. “How come I’ve never heard you? You should play for us sometime.”

Jake smiled a sorrowful smile that stopped short of reaching his eyes. “Just… haven’t had the chance.”

There were a lot of reasons Jake hasn’t done so many of the things that used to bring him joy when he was human. But ya win some, ya lose some, that was always his philosophy for life anyway. He had so much to be grateful for in this life, so much more than he ever thought possible for a grunt like him. The Universe has been more than generous in compensating him for a lifetime of resentment and regrets, and so if he had to give certain things up, that he did so without thinking twice about it.

“So how did you learn?”

“My old man taught me, probably the only thing he ever taught me, unless you count how to run a backdoor draw while high off your ass.” Jake lets out a humourless laugh, enjoying the look of confusion plastered all over your face, and the way your tanhì seemed to shine brighter when you ruminated over something in your head. Your nose crinkles a little, as his words register fully in your ears and they twitch, and the humourless laugh quickly evolves in a warm, inward smile.

You were beautiful, he ends up acknowledging yet again, taking in all the mannerisms that somehow escaped him all these years.

“A what?”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“Did you not… get along with your dad?”

Jake finds himself, for the first time in years, too many years, thinking about his dad and his life as a young kid back on Earth, and all the shitty memories that came along with that thought, memories he’s tried to repress most of his life. He catches yet another sigh before it escapes him, a habit he’s seemed to have quickly picked up in your presence, as you asked questions most people never did, questions he didn’t want to answer, questions he wanted nothing more than to be asked.

“My dad was a mean ol’ dog, who liked women and booze more than he ever liked Tommy or me. I could never find it in me to care when he died.” That was morbid, he recognises, but it needed to be said. Something about you just makes him want to just… confess things he shouldn’t be feeling, and shouldn’t be saying out loud, and yet here he was, heart thumping and palms sweating almost nervously, and the word vomit didn’t seem like it was anywhere close to over.

“He made mean sloppy joes, though. And he played the guitar like he was born with a six-string in his hands.” There were some good memories. The memory of his dad teaching young squirt Jake Future Days, his old, cigarette-imbued hoarse voice singing the lyrics that still had the power to bring tears to his eyes… that was one of the good ones.

You smiled as he spoke, a warm, inviting smile, that made the breath catch in his lungs and begged him to spill all the secrets that he tried so hard to bury deep inside, and he feels his stomach drop when he realises the feelings you invoked in him, for the first time in his life, were no longer ones he could justify or explain, but ones that demanded to be felt.

The silence was heavy and awkward after that, or so he thought, and he watched you as you ruminated over his words, as you nibbled at the fish he managed to catch while teaching you the basics of fishing. He shouldn't have said it, any of it. What the hell does he think he's doing, going around confessing the depths of his somewhat bitter soul to a kid who knew nothing about life, and who shouldn't have to carry his burdens to begin with. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Maybe being alone with you... was a mistake.

"You should go to sleep, kid. There's a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and the sooner we're done, the sooner your life can go back to normal."

You nodded gently and obliged.

“I think you’re lying.” You say, as you turn your back to him, closing your eyes and preparing yourself to return to your human body, as soon as sleep would find you. “I think you cared. I think you still care. And it’s ok to care. Sometimes… people are horrible and they suck… and we love them anyway. And I think that’s what makes humans special… and good.”

Jake was too stunned to be able to say anything else, as he stared mouth-agape at your back.

“Sleep well, Jake.”

Maybe he did lie. Maybe life will never go back to normal again and the thought... the thought terrified him.

Because I'm a mirrorball I'm a mirrorball I'll show you every version of yourself Tonight

taglist: @yagirlheree @mashiromochi @deepdarktower @tojisleftarm @childofgod-05 @youngpersonaathletebear @cinetrix @hinataashoyos @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @misscaller06 @v1l-ismissing @legendarynoodlebowl @analuw @imjustcal @the-fractured-eye @pandoraontop @sweetirilly @kouyoumarryme @blxkstar @ok-boke @myheartfollower

[softtdaisy]

🌲 a walk in the past l Charles Leclerc

summary. this Christmas market has been your favorite for years. today, it's just a reminder of what you lost. of who you lost.

words count. 1,895

a/n. this is the story that inspired the whole angsty Christmas series. it's massively inspired by Cindy Lou who (please listen to Sabrina's ep). it's sad. it's Charles. I hope you will love it 🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

Ever since you were a child, you used to go to the Christmas market every year. It wasn’t even to buy a present. Just the pleasure of walking around this stall, hearing Christmas songs and seeing the pleasure on everyone’s face when they won a game, sharing a sweet and seasonal meal or just this magic thing that seems to make all the people here happy. It was one of your favorite moments of the year and you couldn’t miss it. 

Even if this year, you were close to skip it.

“If you think I would have let you alone in your apartment instead of enjoying your favorite time of the year, you were barking up the wrong tree.” your best friend replied, putting her arm around your shoulder to bring you closer.

You laughed at her gesture and appreciated this feeling of being loved. And not alone.

Something you sadly lacked these past months.

The reason you almost didn’t come this year was simple. It was Charles.

When you started dating three years ago, the Formula One season was coming to an end. You had met through mutual friends in Monaco and he always managed to see you when he came back home, sometimes even skipping time with his family for you -something you were arguing with him for.

Once he was finally free, this Christmas market was one of your first official dates as a couple. You were living a literal teenage dream, walking hand in hand with him, showing him all the places you had memories with -meaning almost everything. You let him buy your favorite sweet and a scarf that you never left after that.

And you did that every year. It was always the first date you had after the season ended. The first time you could act like a normal couple again. And even if Charles met some fans there, very few thanks to the beanie and the scarf hiding him, it still felt intimate. 

One night, after you drank too much wine and were watching the fireworks, Charles told you that at least he knew where he could propose to you. 

It has become your place.

Until he left.

Now it was only yours, alone.

Everything reminded you of him now. The stall with all the puppies where you were talking about adopting one and even thought about the name. The big pine tree where you added your own decoration together, like the tradition says. The photomaton where he kissed you and the picture that was still somewhere in your apartment because you couldn’t get rid of it. Or just every couple, being happy like you used to. You hated feeling jealous about these poor people who didn’t ask for anything but to spend a moment together.

It was hard to walk on the path of your biggest heartbreak.

“How about a hot chocolate?” Your friend asked you. Well pulled you because she didn’t really wait for your answer before walking to the stall. You didn’t mind. It wasn’t like you felt like making any decision anyway. You apologized to the little girl that collided with your legs and followed your best friend until you had to wait because there were too many people.

You looked around and noticed the stall with handmade Christmas decorations. You always bought something there, like your own tradition. “Do you mind if I go there while you wait?” your best friend agreed and you walked there with stars in your eyes.

Not thinking for a single second that going there would wreck your heart into millions pieces.

“Oh, miss little red beanie.” The seller laughed when he saw you, remembering the little girl you were before with your favorite red beanie, until you grew and it became too small for you. You started to look around the decorations, already noticing some new ones that you loved.

Until you heard a laugh. A very distinct laugh that you could have recognized everywhere. You still turned around to make sure you didn’t dream.

Oh how you wished you did.

Because there he was. Still looking as beautiful as before. With his outgrown brown hair hiding in his black beanie, a scarf you used to steal when you couldn’t find yours, eyes so shiny because of the cold and a red nose that you loved to tease him about. No doubt. Charles was there.

And he wasn’t alone.

You weren’t sure you wanted to look at her. To see who she was. How she could be better than you. Why did he choose her over you? Knowing would be hard. Ignoring it wouldn’t be that much better.

But before you could ever decide what you wanted, Charles turned his head. He felt a look on him.

No he had the same feeling he used to have when you were together. There was something different with you. Something magnetic that would always let him know that you were there, looking at him, even if he couldn’t see you. And it was back.

Your eyes met. And suddenly, your heart was breaking again. 

You couldn’t handle the idea of being around him with his new girl. So you did the first thing that came to your mind: running away. 

The perks of knowing this market by heart, you knew exactly where you had to go to avoid people and be at peace.

The con was that Charles knew it too.

“Please wait!” you heard him in your back. What a wonderful idea to have an athlete as an ex, especially one you’re trying to run away from. 

You ended up stopping, not able to go anywhere else without turning around and meeting Charles. With nothing else to lose, you accepted your fate. The terrible fate that you feared these past weeks. 

You really wondered if you would see Charles now that the season was over and he was around. Were there any chances that you would run into each other in such a big city? You thought you wouldn’t. You really thought you would be lucky enough to avoid this confrontation. 

Apparently the universe wasn’t a fan of this narrative.

“I had no idea you would be here, I wouldn’t come otherwise.” 

You laughed. How dare he? You had no idea what you hated the most. The fact he really thought you wouldn’t be there this year because of him. Or that he used this sweet and comprehensive tone like he was really sorry for you. If he was, then he wouldn’t have broken your heart out of a stupid boredom.

“Oh I’m sorry Charles” you said, turning around to finally face him “Do I bother you by being here, at my favorite place, the one I come to every year, the one I showed you because I wanted to live that moment?” 

“That’s not what I meant.” he sighed, putting a hand on his neck and biting his lips. 

You used to love this tic. There were always some moments in your relationship when you had a hard time distinguishing Charles the driver from Charles your boyfriend. Sure, it was the same person in the end. But the media and his PR team were creating a whole entire character around him, one that wasn’t entirely faithful to the real Charles you knew. 

And then there were moments like this where he wasn’t that overly confident driver that couldn't do no wrong. He was the man that you love, scared of saying the wrong thing, conscious that everything could come to an end one day. 

“So what?” you added, taking a step closer to him. It was a dangerous limit, because at any moment, the feeling of being that close would make all your feelings come back. From hate to love there was indeed one step, one you better not take if you didn’t want to come home with a heart even more broken. “If you knew I was there you wouldn’t have brought your new doll?”

You saw the change in his eyes when you said that. And oh how you hated seeing this look on his face. Because you knew it too, there was not one thing you didn’t know about him. And this one hurted, again. It was the exact same look Charles used to give when someone talked badly about you.

Suddenly, you weren’t the one being protected. You were the one he had to protect his new girl from.

“You’re being mean.” he added, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“I am mean?” your voice broke at that last word. “You fucking brought her here Charles! It was our place! It is my safe place and now you ruined it! Again!” this time you couldn’t resist and hit his chest with your fist. “Why do you have to ruin everything in my life?”

It wasn’t a real question. Or at least, you didn’t expect any real answer. What could he say? Because he wanted to? Because if you can’t be happy together, you shouldn’t try to be now that you are no longer a thing? Or maybe the worst one: he just didn’t think this through. It would mean you were never important enough for him to think about the consequences.

There was no world in which Charles truly thought about you when he broke up with you at the beginning of the year. When you thought everything was alright, when you were looking for an apartment together, when you had that stupid conversation about having a family one day. He dropped it. The “I’m not sure I can’t do this anymore.” Just like that.

Did he really think about you when he couldn’t give a simple explanation as to why he couldn’t do you anymore? 

A single tear fell from your eye and Charles watched it run slowly on your cheek. “I just wanted to apologize.” he whispered, taking your hand between his. But you immediately dropped it.

“That would have been a first.” 

You both stayed silent for a few seconds before you started to walk back to the market. This time, Charles didn’t try to stop you. It was worthless and he knew that. You wouldn’t stop. You had enough. And even he knew that it would be unkind to try again.

You whipped the tear right before you met your best friend, standing in the middle of the road looking for you. You grabbed a chocolate cup and kissed her cheek to thank her. “Where were you?” she asked, more concerned that you thought she would be. How long did you disappear for her to have the time to buy these drinks?

You turned around and saw Charles coming back too. You watched as he grabbed her hand and gave it a kiss with a big smile. Yes. Something he used to do with you too. “Such a gentleman” you used to say when he did that. But now you weren’t the one getting your hand kissed.

“No way…” you heard your best friend say when she saw them. “This can’t be true right?” she asked you. And you wished you could reassure her.

But the truth was there. Charles broke your heart at the beginning of the year.

And he broke what was left at the end of it.

[lizhrs]

Could you do a high school bullies version with Levi, Eren, or Jean pls?

a/n: I was going to make high school bully levi but the thought of captain levi being an immature tyrant towards poor cadet y/n was too good to ignore so my bad

warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, physical abuse

EREN + JEAN

They rule the school halls. Everyone sees them as the perfect duo. Guys try desperately to be them, girls want to be under them and even teachers will do anything to appease them.

It's nauseating, the contrast of how everyone views them versus how you see them. The way you know they are. They're not godly saints, or this generation's future with their good looks and charms. No they're something that follows you constantly, haunts you and pushes you to limits you didn't even know existed.

They're tyrants.

Always pushing and pulling and dragging you every which way like a rag doll. Knocking you into the walls, stealing your lunch money and homework like a bunch of children. Standing over you every chance they get, like they're entitled to every aspect of your life.

Take now for example, Eren is leaning against your shoulder, hands clenching the back of your chair as he stares at your phone.

You're usually more aware of your surroundings, unfortunately due to the many years of hell he and lackey have put you through but you were too engrossed in your texting to hear his booming footsteps making their way towards you. "Who are you texting?" He asks causally, hot air hitting your shoulder.

Your fingers clench around your small device, remembering the last time he saw something on your phone he didn't like, how he smashed the small object into a million pieces. It took you nearly a year to save up money for a new one. "No one."

He's taking it out of your hand before you can stop it, not that you had the guts to anyway. "You're going to a party tonight?" He hums, shamelessly reading your messages. "That's very new of you." He smirks.

"Give it back." You mutter, hating how weak you sound.

"How can you do my homework if you're gonna spend the night partying like a loose slut?"

Your cringe at the words. "I have the entire weekend to do it..."

He stares into you, those strikingly icy eyes that have been the cause of too many nightmares to count digging into your soul. "I should go with you, just to keep you on your feet."

"W-what? No!"

It's your friend's party. He graduated a few months ago and invited you to a college kegger and usually you would've said no but after the horrible week you've been through, getting drunk was a great way to start your weekend. It's out of town so you would've been away from Eren for a few hours which is all you can ask for.

"I don't remember asking." He's typing. Probably texting himself the address on your phone like the prick he is.

You grab the device before you can think, snatching it away. "You're not going, don't you harass me enough?" You grab your bag, quickly walking away from the table before he can make you regret your actions but of course you don't make it very far.

You slam into a chest and the way hair instantly rises on your skin tells you immediately who it is. Your hands dig into the strap of your backpack as you slowly look up, Jean's taunting eyes stare back at you. "Are you already running away from us babe?" He coos. "The day has just ended."

Of course, you should've known. They spent the entire school day ignoring you, a usual sign they're going to make up for it once that final bell rings. You should've just ran home instead of cooping up in this library.

"J-just let me—" Fingers are grabbing your hair from behind, yanking and pushing you into the wall. You wince as your shoulder hits it, hoping the librarian will come back from her break soon...not that she would do anything to help.

"You don't tell us what to do y/n. You should know this by now." Eren smiles as Jean slings an arm around his shoulder, both laughing as if this situation is hysterical.

"I-I'll do your homework Eren, just let me—"

He rolls his eyes. In front of you in a flash as he pushes his knee between your thighs. Your eyes widen at his brazen actions, instantly squirming to get out of his grip. He's been brass before, touching and teasing you as he pleases but you never get used to it. You doubt it's something anyone can really get used to. His palm rests on the space next to your head, breath fanning over your lips due to how close he is.

"You talk way too much." His finger slowly trails down your cheek before softly gripping your chin. You crane your neck to the side, cringing at his callous fingers touching you, digging into your uniform.

Jean's closer too, hands in his pocket as he watches the scene in front of him, always having that mischievous grin on his face whenever Eren plays with their favorite toy.

It's sickening.

"You can do that later pretty, right now we need your full attention." Jean whispers in your ear. "Can you do that for us?"

They follow you home.

Both walk behind you like a pair of pesky mutts, laughing and talking to each other as they watch you grip your books to your chest, trying not to have a full blown panic attack as you get closer to where you live.

You reach the trailer in the next thirty seconds, swallowing a lump in your throat as you look back at them. "G-goodbye."

Jean laughs, throwing his head back. "You think we came all the way here just to leave?"

Your teeth dig into your cheek, tearing it a little bit. The pain is nothing compared to the knots twisting in your stomach right now. "W-what, you can't come in." You whisper, knowing it's futile.

No one would help even if you screamed bloody murder. Your trailer is inconveniently parked in a neighborhood that could care less about others, too busy trying to pay bills and not starve. And they know that. They know your mother won't be home until midnight due to picking up double shifts at the diner and even then, she could spend the night at her boyfriends. They know everything about you and it's frustrating.

"You can't come in." You say again, seeing the looks on their faces. You turn around, running towards the trailer and opening the door.

Eren is behind you just as you're about to slam it shut, palm slamming against the door as he pushes it open. "You are so dramatic." He rolls his eyes, stepping in.

He grimaces at the dirt on his palm."Jesus, y/n would it kill you to clean every once in a while?" He wipes the grim on your uniform, hands shamelessly touching your breasts.

You gasp, taking a step back. Jean walks in, closing the door behind him. He snorts as he looks around. "The inside is just as shitty as the outside."

They've walked you home numerous times, taunting and harassing you every second of the walk. But they've never gone inside of your house...the fact you're alone with these psychos is settling in, tears gathering in your eyes. "What do you guys want?"

"Can't we just hang out? We have been friends for years after all."

Friends.

The turmoil in your head and bruises littering your skin beg to differ.

"You have any food?" Jean is opening your fridge before you can say anything. Thankfully, it's empty. It would be worse if the asshole ate the scarce food your mother leaves every blue moon.

"How can you live like this y/n?" Eren asks, tsking at the stray gallon of milk in the fridge. "You should be happy you have us."

"Happy?" You scoff.

"Here we are, walking you home to this pigsty of a neighborhood so you don't get hurt and all you can do is stare at us like that." He feigns hurt, hand over his chest. "It really stings."

"You're delusional." You want to walk to your room, take a nap and forget about this horrible day but to turn your back on them for even a second is a disaster waiting to happen.

"When's the party starting?" Jean asks, sitting on a stool.

Of course he told him.

"I'm not going anymore. So you guys can leave now."

"Of course we're going. Our first party together." Eren plops down on the couch. "Come watch a movie with us, pet."

You roll your eyes but grudgingly walk over, fearing for what will happen if you refuse. You sit as far away from him as possible, nails digging into your thighs as he turns on the television.

Jean unexpectedly sits next to you, startling you as your shoulders touch. You quickly scoot away which just puts you closer to Eren. You're trapped.

"Didn't know you liked me so much?" Eren chuckles, swinging an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer.

"Don't touch me!" You scream, voice shocking you more than them. Your palms are bleeding now, small cuts now visible. Your eyes widen, frantically shaking your head as you try and force out an apology.

But it's too late.

The patience he's uncharacteristically had for you all day has finally vanished as he grabs your chin, harshly forcing you to look into those dark eyes. His flip in personality is eerie, one minute a playful bully and the next resembling a full-blown sociopath.

"Why are you being so mean y/n?" He sighs, nails digging into your chin. You cry out, tears falling onto your thighs.

"I'm s-sorry." You hiccuped, shaking at the change in the atmosphere. Things always got worse when he was angry, even Jean couldn't control the brunette when he was in one of his fits and you couldn't handle that tonight.

"It's okay." He smiles, after a few seconds of silence. You blink through the tears, confusion evident in your eyes but his lips are on yours before you can question anything.

You gasp at the action, his hand softly resting against your throat as he pushes you back against the couch, lips devouring yours. What?

He's never...ever kissed you before. You can handle the insults and the hits and the unwanted touches but this is a whole new territory. You shake your head, attempting to get away but Jean holds your wrist down like the loyal pet he is. "Calm down, we're not going to hurt you." He says like that is any comfort with the way Eren's lips are trailing down your neck.

"Jean...please." You plead, trembling. You don't know why you did, maybe because a part of you knows he's not as brazen as Eren, as deranged. But he would still do anything the other asked of him.

"Fuck, you're so hot when you beg." Eren pulls away, sharp canines grinning at the sight of you.

He's called you many things but that has certainly never been one of them.

His fingers slowly go under your skirt, eliciting another scream from you. “Stop Eren! You’re fucking crazy!”

He kneels down. “After everything you’ve done to me, this is the least you can offer me y/n.”

“Done to you? I haven’t done anything to you!”

“Of course you have.” His hand grips your thigh. “From fucking day one when I saw you on that playground with that pathetic tattered dress. You were so dirty, like a fucking dog and somehow.” He laughs mirthlessly. “Thought you were better than me.”

You sob as his fingers latch around the ribbon on your underwear, pulling and tearing the cheap fabric in half. “I never—never did that.” You cry, trying to kick him away.

“Of course you did.” He counters. “Smiling at everyone but me, being friendly with nearly every loser in our class but me. Acting as if I was some monster.”

“You are.” You grit through your teeth, glaring at him. “You’ve always been the pathetic one here Eren. You think you’re so much better than everyone when in reality you’re the worst of them all.” You sniff.

He hums, spreading your thighs apart and pulling you closer. “I am better than everyone, love.” Is all he says before a hot, eager tongue drags along your slit.

The severity of this situation dawns on you as more sobs leave your lips. You’re stuck in here with them with no one to care about your weak protests and screams. These bastards can do anything to you and no one cares.

“I hate you!” You kick and writhe and struggle but both of their strong hands hold you down.

This only seems to spur him on as he sucks at your sensitive clit, lapping up the mess he’s making of you. The shame is almost too much to handle as you drip onto the cushions, nails digging into the sofa as you try and hold in the noises that are begging to be let out.

He’s merciless. The pleasure is aggressive as he drinks you down like a mad man, stretching you open with his tongue as his finger thumbs at your clit. You couldn’t help as your hips followed the movement of his tongue, lifting up and down the couch as you tried to contain the shameful pleasure brimming inside of you. He was finding new places to abuse, places you’ve never even thought of touching and it was driving you insane.

“Eren…” You moan, instantly biting down on your tongue.

He laughs, pulling away only to replace his tongue with two fingers. “Ah!” You arch your head into the sofa as he curls them, coating them in slick. He scissors them inside of you all while his thumb is rubbing harshly against your clit. It’s too much, your body reacting to his ministrations no matter how much you don’t want it to. The aching fire in your core grows and grows until you’re heaving, tears streaming down your cheeks and it’s not long until you’re releasing all over his fingers and onto the cushions.

He pulls away, standing up as he looks down at his fingers, a malicious grin on his face. “You’re so fucking cute.” He whispers, staring at you with a look you’ve never seen in those eyes before. Like you’re a priceless treasure, like you’re his. He looks completely infatuated, obsessed.

You cringe as he brings the fingers closer to your face. “Lick it off.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Fuck you.” The tears are still falling and you wonder how long until you pass out from the amount of crying you’ve been doing all day.

He rolls his eyes, forcing his fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself. You cringe, instantly pulling away. “Get off!”

He stares at you like this is a simple tantrum and you need to be disciplined, like he didn’t just assault you. He’s about to say something but the ringing of his phone thankfully saves him. He sighs, staring at the device before groaning and walking away. “I’ll be back.” He disappears down the hallway.

Further inside your house.

You sniff, wiping the tears away and closing your legs. You can barely breathe. Jean finally speaks up, voice sounding like nails on a board. “It was probably important. To have him run off like that.” He says casually.

You don’t say anything. Eyes staring at nothing as you try and process what just happened…what will probably happen next. “Why are you doing this to me…” You whisper.

Jean is silent for a minute before sighing. “Because Eren always gets what he wants. And he’s wanted you for a long time.” He doesn’t sound all too happy about those supposed facts.

You clench your jaw. You’re expected to believe all these years of bullying was due to you never returning Eren’s feelings? Feelings he never made clear in the first place. You were terrified of him when you saw the other for the first time. He was brash and rude and loud, everything you hated and even then you tried to be friendly with him, no matter how insincere you were. Why is he acting like you kicked sand in his lunch box?

“I hate you both.” You grit through teeth. You ponder if you can run out the door fast enough but even then…they would find you the next day and the punishment would probably be worse.

“You seemed to be enjoying that.”

“Fuck off.”

Jean gets closer, tilting his head to get a better view of you. “You say you hate him but it didn’t seem like that. It never seemed like that.”

“W-what?”

“You were always attracted to him, weren’t you? Just too afraid to ever do something about it…you’ve never looked at me the way you look at him.” He mutters, like you’ve done him some great injustice. “Not even once.”

“Don’t worry, I hate you both equally.” You finally muster the words up. Especially after tonight.

Jean huffs as he grabs your wrist to which you immediately pull away as if he burned you and the action is enough to have clenching his jaw, eyes darkening. “I’ve been so patient.” He murmurs, the words almost sounding like a plea.

“So patient with you and him but he…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “He wasn’t supposed to do that. At least not yet.”

You back away, trying to stand on your shaking legs but he grabs you. “It was supposed to be me. It’s supposed to be only me who gets to make you feel that way y/n.” He stands up, hands clenched into fists.

“You were supposed to be mine only.”

The words only make you nauseous. You were wrong, they’re both equally insane, equally deranged. You need to get out of here, need to go to the police and have them both locked up for their sick perversions.

Footsteps have you both tensing up, slowly looking towards the hallway to see Eren coming back. He laughs, shoulders shaking as he walks over. He doesn’t look angry but then again, he can switch his emotions in a second.

Jean looks almost scared, not bothering to say anything even as Eren mockingly pinches his cheek. “Jean, don’t be so selfish.” He puts an arm around his shoulder, leering at you. Both looking like sick predators.

“We can always share her.”

LEVI

Life in the Survey Corps is disastrous enough without constant berating and belittling from someone who's supposed to be encouraging you.

And if not encouragement, then at least not outright bullying from the Captain.

You don't know what it is but from day one, he's held a strong sense of...well you don't want to say hatred but as the weeks go by of your training, it seems like he would rather have you six feet under than learning from him.

From the moment he saw your expensive clothing and fancy shoes, he had decided then and there you were a no good rich girl who only wanted to join because of some half assed rebellion you were having. And that pissed you off. You didn't join because you wanted to rebel against your parents nor because of guilt of having more luxurious amenities than your fellow cadets. You wanted to fight for your home and people.

But he had made up his mind about you and well fine, you could live with him not respecting you but to go out of his way every time his demeaning eyes landed on you was proving to be too much.

Take now for example.

Back in your prestigious academy, you were top of your class, being graced with renowned resources that your fellow Outer Wall cadets have never even heard of but here it seems you were a fish out of water. Especially with him staring at you like you were nothing but dirt under his shoes.

To be skilled at 3DMG you needed flexibility, a sense of determination. Boldness you simply don't have when Levi is standing a few feet away from you, already having made up his mind that you suck at this before you even get into the gear.

But it seems he was right as you struggle to remember the demonstrations shown to you just a few minutes ago. You kick and lash and thrash around but your limbs never find the hold they're looking for. It's fucking embarrassing, made even worse as yells from the crowd now formed around you increase. "Center your core!" Krista yells, trying to help but only making the humiliation worse.

You're upside down now, panting as you try to catch your breath. It's pointless. You groan, what is he even doing here? Since when does he train the students in 3DMG? You bite your tongue at the fact the reason he suddenly decided he wasn't above this is because he knew it would be your first day on this field and he couldn't pass up an opportunity to see you fail.

How did she even get into this Rank?

She's bringing us down.

Her daddy probably paid someone off.

You can hear all different kinds of demeaning whispers from the crowd, from people who are supposed to be your comrades. Levi finally speaks, taking a break from staring at you with that blank expression that you just know is hiding a look of disgust. "Everyone back inside." He demands, arms crossed over his chest.

"But we're not done yet!" Ymir scoffs, glaring at you.

"We are if I say we are." He tsks. "Annoying brat." He mutters under his breath before walking over to you.

It's hard to get away when you're stuck upside down but that doesn't stop the hairs from rising on your skin, anxiety threatening to eat away at you as he walks closer and your comrades walk away. Leaving you fully in his mercy.

Just fucking great.

He's dropping you from the gear in a flash and you ungracefully land on your hands and knees, winching at the hard contact you make with the grass underneath you. You quickly stand up, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but you can already see the corner of his lip twitching.

"You are truly a disgrace, y/n." He mutters.

You say nothing, knowing it will only make matters worse as he stares at you. You ignore the dread in your stomach as he stalks around you, "How can you expect to go out into the real world when you're this pathetic?"

You clench your jaw. "Others did worse than me!" You burst out before you can stop yourself, hands clenching tightly.

He walks back in front of you, raising an eyebrow at your childish outburst as if bullying a cadet isn't the mere definition of immature.

"Why do you only ever have an issue with me? It's annoying." You should've stopped from the second you exploded at him but like always, he just infuriates you too much. "You knew I wouldn't be ready after twisting my ankle the other day but you still made me do this, I know you enjoy torturing me but—" A shriek escapes your lips as his fingers suddenly grip your hair, tightening around the strands as he pulls.

"You think too highly of yourself. I am not bullying you, you insolent little brat. I am making sure you don't get my cadets killed because you were too weak to fight because of what, a twisted ankle? His laugh sends a shiver down your spine. "Soldiers have lost limbs and you're complaining about your stupid fucking ankle?" He throws you on the ground and before you can collect yourself, his foot is hovering over your ankle.

Your eyes widen but before you can even let a word out, he's stepping on it. You quickly bite your lip, holding the scream that's threatening to leave your mouth and embarrass you even further. Fuck, it hurts.

He twists his foot, applying more unbearable pressure to your injured ankle. "Does it hurt?" He sneers. "You know what hurts more? Being torn apart by drooling freaks."

Your nails dig into the dirt, lip tearing from you refusing to cry out. But he presses and twists his foot, until you’re shaking, until a small cry escapes your lips. Until he wins.

"Stop!" You scream after your defeat, struggling to get away from his hold.

He scoffs, finally relenting. "Go muck out the stables."

Despite the burning hatred deep in your guts and the aching pain in your ankle, you're fine. You don't considering mucking out the stables a punishment despite that being his intention.

You love seeing the horses, it's the only silver lining in this dark path you've chosen for yourself. You smile as large, dark eyes blink at you once you get closer to the stables, taking in the sheer beauty. Back home, riding horses would always be your favorite hobby.

It was the one time a day you felt happy, free from all the stress and responsibilities your parents put on you.

You run your hands along his blonde hair, taking in how elegant and striking he looks. For a second, you ponder taking a saddle and riding him. It would be just like old times and heavens knows you need it. Before you can entertain the thought even more, you hear footsteps behind you.

You tense, fearing it's Levi but you let out a sigh of relief as Armin walks up. He's holding an apple and for a second you think it's for the horse but he hands it to you. You blink down at the fruit. "Thanks?" You mumble as you take it.

"We both know he won't be letting you eat tonight."

Your eyes widen, already knowing who the he is. "How'd you know?"

He chuckles, awkwardly scratching his neck. "I'm an observant guy and well Captain Levi doesn't really seem to like you. Well he never likes the new recruits but he seems to really...have an issue with you." His cheeks are blushing furiously with every word that comes out of his mouth.

"And I've noticed sometimes he takes your meals away when you mess up during training which is..."

"A lot?" You scoff, rolling your eyes.

He quickly shakes his head. "No, I wasn't going to say that!"

"It's okay." You sigh. "I know I suck but I'm improving! But he acts like I'm the worst freaking cadet and it's so freaking annoying." You groan, hand clenching around the apple. "I mean, would it kill him to say great job once in a while or at least not look at me like I'm worse than the damn Titans?!"

Armin seems to be pitying you as he pats your back, a comfort he seems to immediately regret as he yanks his hand away like he's just been burned. "S-sorry!" He gasps, taking a step back.

You laugh, "I'm not contaminated, Armin."

"I know....obviously you're not! It's just...well..."

You raise an eyebrow, realization slowly dawning on you. Back in Mitras, you were quite popular—a stark contrast to your life here. And with popularity comes the pack of lovesick boys who just have to profess their crush for you. And every single one of them had the same look that's currently resided on Armin's face right now.

"Armin." You start, doing nothing to stop the shameless smile now forming on your face. "Do you have a crush on me?"

It seems that was the absolute worst question to ask. His breath hitches, frantically shaking his head. "What?" He wheezes. "Where did you get that idea from? I don't—I—"

You stifle a laugh, walking closer to him. "It's okay." You try to reassure him. "You're cute." It's a shameless and pathetic attempt at flirting but it's not like you have many romantic options here. Half the boys in your class are useless and the other male population you're even allowed to interact with are off fighting Titans. And it's not like you can bat your eyelashes at your superiors.

"I am?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah." You smile, walking over to where the saddles are, knowing it's a bad idea but still placing it on the horse. You're going to get punished tomorrow anyways for whatever Levi deems is unfit so might as well actually have some fun before the asshole comes. "Do you want to join me for a ride?"

"Uhm...yes?" He chokes, watching as you lead the horse further out of the stables.

You straddle him, looking down at the blonde. Armin looks like he's about to pass out, cheeks a dangerous shade of red as he tries to muster up some words. He's seconds away from taking your hand and getting on the horse but the sound of footsteps have you both freezing in your place.

All the color drains from your face as you look up to see Levi standing there, “Stealing Survey Corps property is a crime.”

You get down from the horse, throat dry. “I wasn’t stealing.” Is all you can say. Armin is right besides you, about to come to your honor but the Captain waves his hand. “Leave Arlert.” He says, sounding almost bored but you can see the fury in his face. No matter how hard he tries to hide it.

Armin looks over at you, obviously not wanting to leave you in the mercy of the man everyone in this damn city fears but it’s pointless. When Levi gives an order, you obey.

He slowly retreats, head cast down as he starts walking away. “Don’t be too hard on her.” Is all he squeaks before leaving.

His eyes burn into your skin and you conveniently ignore his gaze, keeping your head down. You hope this tantrum will be a fast one, you don’t have it in you to deal with another discipline so fast. You weren’t going to steal a fucking horse if that much wasn’t obvious enough but he could care less about sensible facts whenever it comes to you.

“Instead of taking responsibility for your thievery, you make excuses.” He walks closer, arms clasped behind his back. “You can’t fight, can’t use the gear correctly, and now a liar and a thief. Not to mention acting like a whore around your comrades.”

You ears perk up at that last comment. “Excuse me?” You glare into his eyes.

“Was that how it worked for you back then? You would bat those eyelashes and everything would fall into your lap?” He sneers.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re a brat. A spoiled one at that.”

“And what about you?” You ask, not caring at how rude you sound. “You’re always spewing insults at me when you’re the worst of them all. Harassing a innocent cadet who’s just trying—”

“You’re barely a cadet.” He snorts.

“And you’re nothing but a bully!”

His infamous agility is used before your own eyes as his fingers wrap around your throat, pushing you against the wall. “Clean the fucking stables, that’s all you had to do. But instead you decide to disobey me and run off with fucking Arlert and now you’re insulting me? Do you want to get kicked out, huh brat?”

Scrambling to get away from his punishing grip on your throat, your nails dig into his hands. It’s quick, how easy it is to be on the brink of passing out. He knows exactly what correct pressure point to press as he squeezes. You gasp out, practically clawing at his knuckles now. “L-luh-let go!” You manage to get out.

Black dots form in your vision and despite all the struggling, it’s useless to win against this brute. “Levi!” You cry out and it seems the gears in his head finally start working again as he lets go.

He steps back, letting out an annoyed sigh as he stretches his fingers. You fall onto your knees, heaving onto the ground.

“You’re infuriating.” He says more to himself. “Why can’t you ever listen? From day one I told you that you didn’t belong here.”

“But instead you pay no attention to my words. Instead you stay and drive me fucking insane. Instead you flirt with everyone who has a pair of balls in this fucking place.”

You stand up, palm on the wall for support as you rub your aching throat. For a minute you’re too scared to talk, for how he’ll react and for the sound that will come out of your mouth but then you remember that frankly you don’t give a shit. “I wasn’t flirting, you asshole! I was having a simple conversation with a friend, something I know you aren’t familiar with but doesn’t mean you have to take your anger out on me.”

He just stands there, jaw clenched as you’re forced to stare into depths of blue-gray. They’re chilling, the way he looks at you. It’s always enough to have you second guess your actions, have goosebumps forming and your legs shaking.

He’s moving closer, terrifyingly so and there’s no way to run. You’re stuck between him and the wall, your body hitting it with a loud thud. Your nails scrape against the wall. “Why do you even care who I talk to? I’m trying to get better. I’m training day and night and a little nudge in the right direction wouldn’t hurt every once in a while but all you ever do is belittle me. It’s so—”

“So what?”

“Mean.”

His eyebrows furrow, eyes looking sharp enough to murder someone as he responds. “I’m not mean.” He replies, as if that’s the worst thing you could’ve possibly said to him.

As if he hasn’t been the one tormenting you since the day you met. “You’re just spoiled.” He says like it’s the simple truth. “Never went a day without someone caring for you, doing everything for you. No one has probably even raised their voice at you.”

You bite your lip, hating the way those are true. Why should you be ashamed of that? You were cared for as a child, it’s not something that should be used against you but the way Levi talks, it makes you feel like you’re nothing but a spoiled baby.

“I’m not mean. You’re just weak.”

You refuse to let the tears form, instead letting out a shaky sigh. “At least I’m trying to get better. To fight for my people. At least I’m not an old man attacking—”

“No, you’re just a shameless whore.”

Your mouth gapes open, landing a singular punch on his chest without thinking twice. You should regret it…you think you already do the second your fist makes contact with him. You’re already ready to bolt out of there but he’s grabbing you by the wrist. Stopping you in your tracks.

It’s not as harsh as it could’ve been. His fingers just stay there, wrapped around you.

“Why do you care who I interact with?” You ponder aloud, snatching your hand away from his hold. Is he really not going to retaliate for that punch?

“I don’t want you distracting my cadets.” He answers, eerily calm. It’s a bullshit excuse and you can see right through it.

“By being friendly?” You scoff, ready to accuse him of being an idiot but you stop in your tracks. “Would you rather it was you I batted my eyelashes at Captain?” You don’t know where the bravery came from. You’ve said countless questionable things to the Captain but never something as…suggestive as that.

Why else would he care so much? The bullying part yeah whatever he thinks you’re useless and spineless but why the hell should he care if you’re flirting with someone? Unless the old man has some weird crush on you.

It’s a ludicrous thought.

But you know it’ll piss him off. And that’s enough to act on it.

He grabs your chin in a flash and you’re already preparing yourself for the hit that’s going to come but nothing happens. Instead he just stands there, softly holding you as he tilts his head. Were you actually right??

His lips hover over your jaw and cheeks, never touching but you can feel his breath on your skin. Your pulse is pounding, heart hammering to the point you can’t hear anything. What is he playing at? You gulp, shivering a bit as his lips ghost over your ear. You wait anxiously for his next words, not liking the way you’re not entirely disgusted by his touch.

“One week of stable duty for your attempt at burglary, brat. Another for hitting a superior.”

He pulls away but only slightly, he stares like he’s eager to see the reaction you’re going to give. You’re in utter disbelief at the audacity of this bastard but to give him a visible reaction after he’s been torturing you all day is not on your to do list. “You keep abusing your power and I’ll have no choice but to go to the Commander.” You try to sound hardened but he’s left you a breathless mess.

He backs away, smiling at you. “One more week for backtalk.”

“That wasn’t backtalk!”

“Another week for more backtalk.”

You scream, hands clenched into fists as you try to not say a word.

He’ll always find a way to get the reaction he wants out of you, like it is some depraved need. “Screw you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Get back to work. And no more flirting with the comrades.” He walks away.

You stare daggers at his retreating form, wanting nothing more than to chuck the horse shit at him.

But despite the rage that’s seconds away from exploding inside of you, the thought of his fingers wrapped around your chin come back to haunt you, how his lips were inches away from making contact with you. How you weren’t pushing him away, disgusted with his actions. You don’t understand why you were so paralyzed.

It angers you more than anything the Captain has ever done.

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 5

I’m so terribly sorry that this so late. I wasn’t entirely sure how I wanted to end this, and I almost added another chapter, but here it is!! Thanks for your patience and for 1k 🩵🩵 (ps you should listen to nothing to be scared of by Kacey Musgraves)

table of contents our town

You’re staring at him again. Jamie hates it, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to gaze into your beautiful eyes once more.

“Hm,” you say, because you can’t come up with something better. Instead, you let him be uncomfortable. You spent a long time making space for him, so in this, he can wait.

“I should have left you,” you say eventually.

“I know,” Jamie replies ruefully. “Remember you fuckin’ told me?”

You nod. “I do. And then I told you that I never leave. I always stay till the last second, and it’s the worst thing about me. And you said-” You pause. There’s no point in bringing up the past.

“I said some stupid shit about my mum,” Jamie fills in.

You nod. “Yeah, it was stupid. I know you said it just to get me to stay.”

“Didn’t,” Jamie interjects. You give him a look. “Alright, shit, maybe I did. But I wanted you to stay. I loved you, I was just too fucking scared to say it.”

“I gave you SO many opportunities to tell me,” you reply. “And you didn’t take any of them, you just left me behind. I knew you were going to so it’s fine, but you can’t just come back into my life and fuck things up again. I’m really not in the mood for it.”

You’re lying straight to his face, and you wonder if he knows. You hope he doesn’t. All you need is to wait just long enough for Jude to come back and then Jamie can go away and you don’t have to let him back in. Not that you have to. But you want to.

You understand that the moment he lets you have an inch, you’ll take a mile. You’ll write your whole future together based on a passing comment or an arm around your waist.

But Jamie knows you’re lying. You see it flicker in his eyes for half a second too long, and you know you’re screwed.

You take a step back. Jude isn’t coming back.

“I’m going,” you say. “I’m going, so don’t follow me. I can’t take you back. We won’t work.”

And Jamie- Jamie sees it.

You were always the visionary, weren’t you? The one who designed the future as though it were as easy as scribbling on a piece of paper. The one who saw the worst but believed in the best, and Jamie never quite believed you the one time you told him it could work forever, if he wanted.

He believes it now, though.

It’s too late as you slip past him and back inside, presumably to find Julia and keep her from committing murder; or maybe you’ll let her have free reign and Jamie is a dead man in about fifteen minutes.

It drives him mad, the future, and he wonders how it didn’t drive you mad as well.

—

France, Spain, Italy. They blend together in a haze of sunshine and lemon, as you, Nicola, and Julia travel the summer away. 

You refuse to think of Jamie, wherever he may be, but as July becomes August, you wonder what his mum is doing.

You’re on a first class flight back to London scrolling through Instagram, and you find yourself looking at her account. 

It’s private, but she followed you first a million years ago and you realize neither of you ever unfollowed the other. 

So you’re able to see how she’s filling her days.

She doesn’t always post Jamie’s face, but you see a familiar sleeve, or a Jamie-shaped shadow. You scroll back far enough to find a post from his twenty-seventh birthday which is a mistake because it’s a photo of Jamie blowing out candles with your arms wrapped around him.

You remember that moment, you were laughing and singing with his family while lying to yourself about how serious everything was.

But there’s no time to go down THAT rabbit trail so you close your phone and try to sleep through the rest of the flight.

—

Jamie is in hell. Training started a week ago, and it’s a shit show. It doesn’t help that he was never like this when you were with him. The first match of the season is coming up and he needs to get it the fuck together. There’s no way he’s getting in the starting lineup like this, not with the way he keeps glancing to the stands like you’ll be there.

He can’t help but think of you all the time, wherever you may be, and he tricks himself into seeing your face in every crowd.

He debates calling you (he never could delete your number), but he’s pretty sure he’s blocked so he doesn’t.

—

Jamie’s right, he doesn’t get started, but he has a good run in the second half. City win, obviously, but instead of going out with the lads Jamie gives them the slip and heads home.

Except he doesn’t exactly head straight home, he just sort of wanders around Manchester until he ends up in his favorite chicken shop.

He has exactly one day off of training so he figures one cheat meal won’t fuck him up more than he already is. It’s late, and he shouldn’t be eating at this hour, but he cannot give less of a fuck. He orders and goes to sit in the corner booth, only to find it occupied.

He thinks it’s you, for a moment, but you’re not in Manchester. He doesn’t know where you are, but that he knows for certain.

He’s wrong.

You’re looking up at him with a half-eaten plate of chips in front of you, and Jamie remembers every time you’ve looked at him like that.

“You have puppy eyes,” he said.

You scrunched your nose. “I know they’re puffy,” you said. “I was just crying in the car.”

“No, puppy eyes. I’d never say your eyes were fucking puffy, unless you were like, fucking dying or something.”

You had blushed and looked away, and Jamie knew he shouldn’t have said it. Knew he was getting in over his head.

Those eyes look more tired than he’s ever seen them, but you say, “Need a seat?” as you gesture to the place across from you.

Jamie slides in before he can think better of it. “Bit crowded in here,” he says, and you glance around to the empty tables.

“Wouldn’t have offered to share if it weren’t so hard to find a table,” you say.

He smiles, and you want to make him smile like that all the time.

“Watched the match,” you tell him. “You were great.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “I were shit, and you know it. Don’t know what the fuck was happening.”

“You weren’t shit. You always say that, and you’re never right.”

You’re not sure exactly what’s coming over you right now. You’re detached from your body, watching this scene unfold from above.

Jamie shakes his head. “Why do you always say shit like that? Why the fuck did you stay for so long? You knew-” He’s unable to finish, captivated by the pools of tears collecting in your eyes. He knows you’d rather die than let them fall, and he wishes he weren’t the cause.

“You still have the most beautiful eyes in the whole fuckin’ world,” he says softly.

You glare at him. “Fuck you for that,” you say. “And I stayed because I wanted to. And because I thought you’d change. You changed everything else for me, and then didn’t ask me to come with you. You just assumed that I wouldn’t want every part of you, remember? You didn’t listen when I told you how much I’d give up for you. And sure, it’s not very feminist of me, but I- I loved you. I’d do anything for the people I love. But you never fucking asked.”

You sigh. This conversation is a lot angrier than you wanted. You’re not angry. At least, not with Jamie. With yourself, sure. You take a bite of a chip to stave off the tears.

Jamie’s still processing. “You would’ve stayed longer?” he asks slowly.

You almost choke. “Yes, you absolute fucking idiot! I told you that! Your mum fucking told you, for Christ’s sake! Everyone fucking knew how much I loved you, and I knew you didn’t feel the same which is why I didn’t fight you when you left! I figured it was time for me to move on as well, so I did my absolute fucking best. But yeah, Jamie, I love you. Every part, too. Not just the things you think make you lovable.” You stand up. “I’m leaving. Goodbye, Jamie.”

As you brush past him, he catches your wrist. You look down at him with as much disdain as you can muster (it’s not a lot).

“Stay,” he whispers.

And you’re at a crossroads.

—

Three years later…

“Can’t believe we’re going back,” you groan as you tape a box.

“Coach asked,” Jamie calls from another room. “And you better not be lifting anything.”

“I’m not,” you shoot back as he enters the room. “That’s what you’re for. And anyway, the movers will be here in half an hour, so there won’t be much for me to do anyway.”

Jamie wraps his arms around your waist so he can pull you close and study your eyes. “You sure you’re alright going back to Richmond?”

You shrug as best you can. “I’m living the dream, babe. Not worried about it.”

And Jamie believes you.

He can’t believe much else, that’s for sure, not that you took him back. 

“One last chance, Jamie Tartt,” you had warned. “Fuck it up and I’m gone before you can blink.”

So he didn’t. Sure, no one’s perfect, but he’s trying. You both are. You’ve made it this far. Who’s to say it’ll crash and burn? 

Besides, he’s got a rock burning a hole in his pocket that says otherwise.

table of contents

[riitah]

[chocolate kisses] - gojo satoru x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: gojo satoru is your best friend, and always will be. nothing more, nothing less. despite you having rejected him years ago, there was no awkward tension between the two of you. in fact, to everyone else, it seemed as if you two were already a thing well before gojo had said anything. holding hands, sharing sweets, falling asleep on each other’s shoulders – these were things couples did, no?

yeah, but everything was strictly platonic. from your viewpoint, anyway.

but lately, you’ve been getting this strange sensation near your chest whenever the two of you decided to do something that required physical contact. and these beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you didn’t think much of before now put you in a trance whenever he takes off his blindfold.

how could you confess your feelings when you were the one who refused his?

WORD COUNT: 1.5k  

HONORABLE MENTIONS: special thank-you to my beta readers “henry rumpelstiltskin III of the nuclear sock kingdom” and forel :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I’ve recently started getting into Jujutsu Kaisen and, though I don’t exactly have a strong romantic attraction to him, Gojo’s been on my mind a lot. After reading several pieces of fanfiction about him, I decided that I wanted to write my own (honestly his personality’s probably gonna be so influenced by them 😭). So enjoy a small oneshot featuring this man, the first work on my blog that isn’t Genshin related.

Also, we’re gonna pretend that the Jujutsu world pumps out daily newspaper articles that only sorcerers can access 😁👍

Gojo Satoru. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer. You would’ve liked to add “self-proclaimed” in front of it, but there was no denying how powerful your best friend was. Especially after you personally fought him one-on-one.

You scowled and turned off your phone, freeing yourself from having to continue reading the article titled, “Gojo Satoru, the World’s Strongest Jujutsu’s Sorcerer, has Defeated Yet Another High Grade Curse and Saved Millions of Lives!” with his – as much as you hated to admit it – gorgeous face plastered smack in the middle of the screen every few paragraphs. Were all of the exclusive Jujutsu World newsletters and their long-ass titles about him now?

“(Y/N)!” someone shouted from outside the door. Moments later, a certain white-haired individual popped his head into the room, a gleeful smile on his face. “You’re still here! What’re you doing?”

Speak of the devil.

You sighed in response, massaging your right temple as you mentally prepared for another lunch break spent with this man. “Toru, don’t you have anything else to do other than coming here to bother me?”

With an exaggerated gesture, he clamped one of his hands over his chest and tilted his head to one side. “I’m hurt! Don’t you enjoy my company?”

“The day I got assigned to the seat next to you back when we were students at Jujutsu High was one of the worst days of my life.”

“Aw, c’mon, we both know that I made your high school years the most enjoyable!”

He strode into the room – quite indifferently, a sharp contrast to his previous overdramaticized display of sadness – and with him, his intimidating aura. Despite his laidback attitude, he did carry a pinch of…

You squinted at him as he set down a paper bag on the coffee table and plopped down next to you with his legs spread wide as if he was trying to get into your personal space without actually doing so, quietly searching for a word that fit.

“What’s up?” He noticed your gaze and turned to look at you, a smirk resting on his lips. Despite his eyes being covered by the blindfold that he constantly paired with almost all of his outfits (which is…just one), you could tell that there was a teasing glimmer in them right now. “Finally regretting rejecting me? Hm?”

You snorted at the joke that he’s made one too many times, and when he leaned in you lightly pushed against his chest. “You wish. And stop occupying 75% of a couch that’s meant to fit at least three people.”

To this, he closed his legs and scooted closer to you instead. The wood creaked under his weight as he gently pressed against your side.

Your arms resting against each other.

Your breathing syncing.

His head moving to rest on top of yours.

You playfully rolled your eyes and indulged in his intimate behavior like you always did. Only this time – along with the various other times the last few weeks – every touch felt electrifying and sent shivers down your spine.

You pushed these weird sensations aside, entwining his fingers in yours, something you’ve done well over a million times. His hand felt rough, calloused – all from training, you knew. A direct piece of evidence that proved just how much work he put into becoming the best of the best. A direct piece of evidence that proved why he held the title of the strongest jujutsu sorcerer and not you.

Biting down a surge of jealousy, you closed your eyes and gently laid your head on his shoulder. Noticing how his posture felt somewhat stiff, you started rubbing invisible circles into the back of his hand – just the way he liked it when he felt stressed.

You heard him exhale, a quiet sound that exited his body with poise and ease. You weren’t sure how anyone could breathe so elegantly, but here he was. And, just as you expected, his body sank lower into the cushioned seats as the tension left it, pulling you backwards.

For several moments, everything felt tranquil. Then, he just had to ruin it with a, “(Y/N), your heartbeat’s accelerating,” the smugness in his tone evident.

You harshly elbowed him and pinched his cheek, pulling on it hard.

“Ow!”

You half expected him to turn on his Infinity, but your fingers remained in contact with his face with no signs of slipping.

“Okay, okay, it didn’t – now will you please let go?”

You released him from your grasp and he rubbed at the spot, which was now red. “You know, if you wanted to touch my face so bad, you could’ve just asked.”

“Are you asking for a slap this time, Gojo Satoru?”

“Will that make you stay with me until the end of your break?”

“No, that’ll cost you another five slaps.”

“So mean! My presence should be more than enough to cover for it.”

“Not everyone’s obsessed with you,” you huffed indignantly before readjusting yourself into a more comfortable position. “Get that inflated ego of yours checked out.”

He merely chuckled and pulled you closer to him, moving his thumb to the area where your pulse resided. “But are you sure you’re not in love with me? (Y/N)?”

His voice dropped an octave when he drawled out your name. And your chest tightened in a way you couldn’t explain. Without even realizing it, you dug your fingernails into his skin, your breathing shallow.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you managed to say with a shake of your head.

“Keep pressing your sharp fingernails into my hand and I’ll start bleeding.” He laughed, and then, before you could apologize, added, “And I mean, why else would you be reading an article about me?”

“You – you saw that?” you whispered, horrified. Just how long had he been watching you before he made his presence known?

“So you are head over heels for me?”

He was half teasing, and half serious. You didn’t know how you should respond and looked down at your lap.

Seconds lapsed by in silence, but they felt like an eternity. Without alerting you to what he was doing, Gojo slid his blindfold off and shook his head a little.

Then he parted his lips, his voice more sincere than you’ve ever heard it.

“(Y/N), will you look at me?”

And you reluctantly obliged, heart nearly stopping when you met his pretty blue eyes.

His messy hair, now no longer supported by the black piece of fabric, swept over his forehead like a blanket of snow. And his eyes, half lidded as he stared down at you expectantly, sparkled like rare jewels in the dim light.

They were beautiful. He was beautiful.

You wondered if he was just doing this to guide you towards the more favorable answer to his second to last question.

“Please tell me the truth, (Y/N).”

You swallowed thickly, unable to look away. Mesmerized.

Entranced.

The way he said it made you want to give in with a simple “yes.”

“I–you–? I mean–”

When you finally spoke, words tumbled out of your mouth out of order, reducing whatever meaning you meant to put behind them to nothing but a mess of letters.

“I…I think so? I don’t know–”

And Gojo stared at your reddening face all the while, his serious façade breaking as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in amusement.

“Let me ask you this, then.”

He brought his face closer to yours, the distance between the two of you almost enough for the tips of your noses to touch.

“What do you feel when I do this?”

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his finger slightly brushing against your cheekbone.

“Or when I touch you like this?

One warm hand caressed your cheek, a faint scent of chocolate wafting to your nose.

“…giddy,” you mumbled, the proximity and skin contact making you a little dizzy. “And nervous, I suppose.”

His eyes flickered from your (E/C) ones to your lips.

“And what if I told you I wanted to kiss you right now?”

The same hand trailed down your jaw until it reached your chin, where it stopped, awaiting your answer.

You didn’t know what sudden wave of confidence washed over you, but the next words that left your mouth weren’t products of a stumbling, stuttering mess.

“I’d let you.”

Without wasting any more time, he closed the remaining distance by bringing his lips to yours.

They were soft – just like you had imagined them to be, if not better – and tasted like chocolate. As he pressed himself against you, you ran your hand through his hair, enjoying every declaration of love he mumbled against your lips.

“You made me wait years for this, you know. Really uncool.”

You giggled when he leaned down to steal another kiss, arms still wrapped around his neck. “I know. Consider it punishment for constantly teasing me for more than an entire decade.”

Your competitive streak didn’t die down, no. But for now, maybe you could see him as something more than just a best friend and rival.

You smiled as you watched him grab the bag he placed on the table earlier and dig into it to hand you your favorite box of chocolates.

Gojo Satoru. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer, and the only one who has your heart.

[joylovesfluff]

Trouble

Dabi x reader. Angst.

A/n: ngl i didn't have an actual plot for this when i started writing it, but fuck im inlove now with dabi and him just being a little obsessed with you.

NOT PROOF READ !!

Lovesick! Part 2 (in progress)

Troublemaker touya! Who would throw rocks on your window (taylor swift style) just to suprise you on your birthday even if it ended 2 hours ago.

Troublemaker touya! Who would give the world to you just to make you happy, but for now he had to settle for flowers he just picked fresh from his neighbour's backyard, he gives them to you with a small smile hoping that they'll be good enough for your special day, and he prays to whatever god is up there that you aren't allergic to any kind of flowers cause this sure as hell wont be the last time he'll get scolded for plucking out flowers at 3 am.

Troublemaker touya! Who goes to you before finally disappearing for years, he tells you all about his plan in a form of a joke, he'd definitely be like "and yknow what? Maybe one day id finally kill him, that would be a nice birthday present right?" and you'll cluelessly reply something along the lines of "one life sized endeavour packed in a coffin bow coming right up!" You laugh at the silly imagination you made, not even thinking of the odds of it happening.

Troublemaker touya! Who lowkey stalks you all the time to see how youve been doing in life, he wont admit it but he would do anything to make you happy even if it includes killing all your academic rivals for you, as long as he can see you with your awards and certificates on your social media with the caption 'i made it!' as your graduation post.

Troublemaker touya! Who wouldve loved to graduate with you and to finally confess his feelings for you so you both can live in a beautiful apartment like you have always dreamt of, but now all of it is impossible now that he has his eyes set on his new career.

But as he was watching you walk home in the dark alley ways, definitely not stalking you. He caught onto a sight that shattered his heart and soul into millions on pieces.

"oh hi i thought you weren't ganna come haha"

"ofcouce i would, who in their right mind would let their girlfriend walk home in the night?"

Girlfriend? When? How? He was sure that you weren't seeing anybody, but now you have a boyfriend? How could this happen???

He stopped on his tracks, and started panicking but why would he? Its not like youre his girlfriend or anything, he didn't even got to tell you how he feels which felt much worse than the sight he's seeing.

As he continues to look at your back wishing that this would just be one horrible dream. You and the guy your boyfriend stop walking, dabi panics again worried that you might see him but as he was about to hide at a near by alleyway he looks at you as you bend down to pick something up from the ground.

"What happened?" He asks as he hold your hands so gently like you would break any second.

"oh its nothing i just dropped my phone" you replied after you picked up your phone from the ground.

"you good to go?" He frantically ask looking around the dark streets as he hold onto your hands tighter, 'hes a fucking pussy' dabi thought.

"Yeah, i just thought i saw something" you say as you look behind his shoulder to the dark alley way that looms the corner.

He whisperes something to you as you both start to walk, if dabi remembers correctly your apartment would be somewhere near here, he remembers as the time where he was the one to walk you home after long class hours especially that time where the school was preparing for the sports event.

Lovesick dabi! Who would get excited at the thought of meeting you again, showing his new self, his true self to you. But then he'll remember that maybe you'll hate him for what he has done, for leaving you, for hurting other people. So maybe one day you'll meet him again, maybe one day you'll be able to understand and you both would be able to exchange stories of what youve been through without each other.

He just hopes that youd be able to wait for that day, to wait for him

Lovesick dabi! (Coming soon)..

[yeondollie]

ᴍʏ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴜʀʏ ᴘᴛ. 𝟸 ᯓ★ ୨ৎ

'and i'll listen to the memories as they cry, cry, cry.' ᥫ᭡

. . warnings ; ANGST .ᐟ, heartbreak, continuation of part one, usage of nicknames (my love, baby, pretty girl), pleading, breakup, beomgyu cheated (he would never hehe !!), not a happy ending, mentions of sunghoon from enhypen and chaewon from le sserafim (love them both sm sm), fem reader, reader struggles with depression, i think thats it :> !!

. . words ; 0.9k ⋆.˚

a/n ; first of all, thank you so much for all the love on the part 1 ?!! :,) i love you guys so much and i made some mutuals so thank you again and again . i hope you enjoy part two as much as i do ! i was listening to mitski, more specifically puberty 2 and bury me at makeout creek, while making this and woo it made me so sad :< . please enjoy none the less hehe .. ♡

"i still love you, please dont do this."

all the memories of him suddenly came rushing back to your mind and you could feel your body crumble under you. it was like when you were waving him goodbye to paris a year ago, the pain was unmatched. you didn't even know how to respond. there was no way he truly meant what he said. i mean he cheated, didn't he? "you cheated on me. did you not?"

at this point hes let go of the girl on his shoulder which you later found to be chaewon, a pretty girl he met on his school campus. he dragged you to a secluded corner and looked into your glassy eyes. "i know i messed up.. fuck.. i know okay? but i.." he ran his hands through his hair, clearly stressed. "but what? you promised me, right?" you ask gently.

"you're right, i did and i broke it." he finally admits, feeling all the guilt rush to his stomach. tears fell from your eyes and your hands started shaking. you could just remember how miserable you were when there was no contact between the two of you. you couldn't even get out of bed on some days, it was that horrible. "but _____," he finally broke the silence. "please come back to me."

"i-i miss you more than anything." he was almost on his knees, begging you to come back to him. you were surprised, taken aback even. you knew it was stupid to even think of going back to beomgyu but.. he just had this way with you. "beom.." you whisper.

"please my love. i'll do anything.. fuck.. who are you here with? i'll do anything please. c-come back to me i know i messed up but please. be mine again pretty girl, please."

sunghoon. you were here with sunghoon and you couldn't do this to him, he ought to be worried about you by now. "i-i have to go.." your eyes were watering, attempting to walk away so he doesn't see. he immediatley pulls you into a hug, not allowing you to leave. you hesitate to hug him back. why was he doing all this? just to have you wrapped around his finger again?

"beomgyu i really h-" you were cut off again. "you can't! i.. please? i promise, see i pinky promise?" he forces your pinky to intertwine with his own, forcing a pinky promise. he smiled, trying to get a reaction out of you but nothing. it wasn't working on you.

it was just the fact he left your mind running for a year. 'did something happen? is he safe? does he hate me? is something wrong? i wonder if hes doing okay..' was all that filled your mind for the year he was gone and for him to pull a full 180 was insane to you. "let me go beomgyu, p-please."

he could feel his heart break into a million pieces. he knew what he had done was messed up but let you go? forever? he finally had you in his arms again and you wanted to let him go? "no.. no please baby dont do this. y-you cant do this right? i love you! i love you so m-much please." you weren't fooled by his words.

his world of leading you on was crumbling and as much as you wanted to love him back, he just wasn't the beomgyu you remembered. he wasn't the loving boy you once knew. to you, he was practically nothing. you couldn't see him the same now, it hurt.

"i dont love you anymore." he suddenly grasps your hand, squeezing it tightly. "you do.. please. please dont say that. yes you do, you love me and i love you." he's in complete denial. he cant accept that you've moved on, found another man to hold you in his arms. he was crumbling one by one, you had never saw him like this before.

"beomgyu i cant.. i cant love you anymore. you cheated on me for fucks sake." you're clearly stressed tears flowing down your cheeks. he takes he hand to wipe some of your tears while caressing your cheeks. "i-i please.. i dont want to loose you." he whispers in your ear.

you pull his hands off of you and to wipe your own tears. "did that promise mean nothing to you?" finally your voice began to raise, now just feeling angry. "you know i meant every word i said to you baby." he said this in such a gentle tone, you could almost believe it.

"you don't know how hard it was to sit at him rotting in my bed, wondering if something had happened to you. if you were okay, if you were safe but no. you were cheating on me? you're fucking dead to me." your words stung him like a bee, dead to you?

"you don't mean t-that.. you really d-" he was cut off by your stern voice reaching him once more. "i mean.. every word."

he was falling apart, was this how you had felt when he left? "please my love.. im not dead to you. please say you dont mean that." he pleads, tears dwelling in his eyes. he was truly hurting but this is what he did you to, he hurt you just like this. you weakly pull his grip off of you and start to walk away. "you need to let me go."

"i'll keep saying it, for the next century. i still love you, so much my love." were the last words he ever muttered to you.

[dostoyevsky-official]

gorbachev’s funeral was a solemn affair kept purposefully small by an outsized police presence, ordered there by a regime that wants to distance itself as much as possible from his legacy but which cannot forsake something as momentous as the last general secretary of the ussr. at the same time, those in power hate the people who embrace gorbachev and what he stood for. therefore you have “elements of a state funeral,” a ridiculous amount of police, riot police, plainclothes police, military police, elaborate ways of making sure as few people show up as possible (gorbachev was supposed to lie in state until 2pm, but this was suddenly moved to noon; the burial was closed to the public, but it was actually open). one person was arrested for holding up an anti-war sign. surprisingly, many complained about putin snubbing the funeral due to “scheduling conflicts.” good riddance! who among those present really wanted to see him?

it was something of a quiet protest action against him and the war, even without posters. a pensioner at novodevichy cemetery told me as much: “this is the only way i can protest against what’s going on without getting arrested, and they know it. i couldn’t not take the opportunity.” but what is a protest if it’s sanctioned, quiet, and cordoned off?

at 9:30 am, crowds began to gather at the house of the unions in the city center, where all former soviet leaders were displayed in state. it was both larger than i’d expected and much smaller than i’d hoped for from moscow. from a city of 12 million, there were perhaps a few thousand people all together, many with red carnations. there were several gate systems to the memorial manned by cops who had orders not to let in more than 50 people at a time (i overheard one say so on his walkie-talkie). as with the the funeral procession later on, there was a good showing by the post-soviet generation and those who would’ve been too young to remember much of anything from the gorbachev years; there was also a fair amount of pensioners. the crowd moved fast—the cops didn’t want to let anyone linger for too long in any place—and after three security checkpoints and five gates, i was in the luxurious hall of pillars, though made austere for gorbachev. after seconds of looking at a man who embodied the twentieth century like few others, i was urged to move on as fast as possible. on the way out, a couple behind me, a man and a woman in their 50s, started crying. they were not the only ones.

across the street, a large “we will fulfill our mission” poster, written with the propaganda Zs and Vs, hangs on the scaffolding of the new bolshoi theatre, as if to put a period on what had already ended months, if not years ago. the crowds only became bigger when i left at half past ten. on my way to novodevichy cemetery, i ran into gennady zyuganov, head of russia’s communist party, and asked for a photo—why not. a smaller crowd of CPRF, left front, and other “left” parties gathered for some event near red square. later, i learned that he gave a speech celebrating the end of wwii with the victory over japan. zyuganov said that we must continue the fight and cleanse the earth of nazis, as russia is doing now. this, too, is part of gorby’s legacy, the shattered pieces of a massive, unfinished political project.

a few hours passed before gorbachev’s procession arrived to novodevichy, where the crowd was a bit thinner. i stood next to a young law student in his junior year who skipped his first day of classes to pay respects, chatting with him to pass the time. “how excellent that so many young people showed up,” he said. maybe a third of those gathered was under 30. “if we are here together, it means russia still has a future.” the police moved us around from time to time to “make space.” after finding my way to him again, i noticed he had two carnations instead of four: he gave two to a journalism student and exchanged numbers. a pensioner: “is she your sister? no? watch over her, keep each other safe.”

the procession was headed by a downcast dmitry muratov, a massive portrait of gorbachev in his hands: one nobel peace laureate parting with the other. among those present for the funeral service were ambassadors, including john sullivan from the US, the south korean, french, and german ambassadors, and suzanne massie, a historian who served as advisor to reagan and allegedly introduced him to the russian idiom “trust, but verify,” with pavel palazhchenko, gorbachev’s long-time translator. 

after the service, a 21-gun salute, the crowds thronging to the burial by raisa gorbachev’s grave. alexei venediktov (editor-in-chief of the now-dissolved echo of moscow, another glasnost creation) recently talked about how he went to novodevichy with gorbachev around 2010. gorbachev started crying, telling him that all he wanted now was to be buried with raisa. the love he had for her was immense. out of all the biographies and gorbachev/perestroika studies i’ve read, it’s only taubman’s that covers how profoundly he loved her with the space that such a deep, lasting relationship merited.

during the burial: “who do you think is next,” from one pensioner to another, two strangers. “well... you know.” “yes, let’s hope it happens soon.” 

a last opportunity to pay respects at a grave heaped, heaped, heaped on with roses and carnations, and then the throngs dissolved. it was the best of who and what you could see in moscow, or, russia’s conscience—what’s left of it—on public display. i have no doubt everyone at the memorial and the cemetery was anti-war. the palpable depression of this crowd was alleviated only by the reinforcing mutual presence of everyone there, a silent solidarity drawn from an organization that hasn’t been seen on the streets since march. you understand what people feel from what’s not said—the looks—the tears—the efforts of men and women in their 80s and 90s to stand for hours, so long as they could say farewell. 

the possibility of such organization, reluctantly allowed for the funeral and which was widely admissible in years passed, was the legacy with which we parted today. the defining feature of gorbachev’s rule was openness, glasnost, a gust of fresh air blowing through a hot, humid room, more than economic ideas that were a halfway house for the conditions the soviet state found itself in, and which he didn’t fully understand. yet he opened windows and doors. he returned memory to the people, he allowed memorial to form, he brought sakharov from exile, and yes, he then turned off his microphone during the congress of people’s deputies. gorbachev was a complicated, flawed individual who rose through the ranks of a bloody, ruthless bureaucracy to lead an imperial superpower whose continued survival was his overarching political imperative. he couldn’t have been gandhi. at one point, he nearly killed yeltsin with nothing more than a prolonged party criticism session; he was, directly or indirectly, responsible for the deaths of those on the imperial periphery. 

but what could have been instead? nothing is precisely inevitable. had andropov been healthier, the soviet union could’ve been held together to this day by sheer force, or perhaps by prolonged conflict in azerbaijan, or mass-scale repression in the baltics. set in this context, gorbachev leashed the security institutions of the ussr, but didn’t properly dispose of them. thirty years later, his failure is zyuganov’s gleeful speech on denazification, the descent into a fascist society waging genocidal war. his success was thirty years of lost opportunity.

where do we go from here? the feeling of helplessness predominates, resonating through the said and unsaid perception of what could have been and what we have had. the crowd goes home, the opposition stays in jail, the war continues. 

[sugarushwriting]

Untouchable / Bang Chan

Untouchable

“untouchable like a distant diamond sky,” “I’m caught up in you,” “when you’re close, I feel like coming undone

Prologue.

I’ve known him since I was 7 and he was 9. I’ve been best friend’s with his younger sister for 13 years, and my crush never faltered. Although we have our 2 year age difference, he only and always saw me as his little sister’s best friend, eventually calling me his own little sister. He would never look at me more than a younger sibling. Even when I turned 15, and started to grow in places, he never once glanced my way in an adoring look. Not like he did with other girls and his girlfriends at the time. I even once wore the skimpiest bikini I could find at 16 and he flat out walked past me without a second thought. Lily, my best friend and his sister, couldn’t believe I was brave enough to show that much skin to anyone. 

From those 13 years, Lily never officially suspected I had a crush on her brother. She once told me, “it’s okay if you have a crush on him, every girl does!” I gagged and brushed her off with a blush. “Never in a million years,” I replied, knowing deep down, my heart ached for him to look at me anyway other than a younger sister. It was hard every day to ignore my silly little feelings for him. Christopher, or Chan as we called him at times, never saw my feelings for him. Never saw me bat my eyelashes at him, the cheesy pickup lines I told as ‘jokes,’ or the times I would dress up in hopes to receive any type of compliment. He would reply with “why do you have so much makeup on?” or “your skirt is too short, kid.” I always went home crying into my pillow.

Chan had his first ‘real’ girlfriend at 14, I was 12. I cried so hard, my mom thought I had spilled a drink in my favorite book. They broke up just months later, and I saw the light of day again. However, when he was 17, he went off to college and got a girlfriend. I had thought they wouldn’t last due to college life. My heart shattered into a million pieces when that didn’t happen. Chan hardly came home during college, only on major holidays. He was aiming to be a music producer, so his schedule was always packed. Whenever he did come visit, he always brought his girlfriend, Sharon. I tried to hate her, but I couldn’t. She was sweet, smart, and talented as she was in choir. That’s how they met--their shared musical talents. 

When it was my and Lily’s turn to go off to college, I made a pact to myself - to get over Christopher Bahng. It was hard at first as not only did I go to school with Lily, and shared a dorm with her, Chan came to help her move in. Of course, he would sometimes visit, but never actually come up to the dorm. A few times she offered for me to hang out with them, but I always made up an excuse. Soon, Lily stopped talking to me about his life updates all together, only for a few here and there updates. My heart didn’t flutter like it used to. The feelings weren’t strong, but they were still somewhat there. During college, I found myself lost in my education and even some guys, but the guys never stuck. Mainly because I couldn’t get off by them, and sometimes I even imagined it was Chan’s face. They never quite pipped my interest.

Now, at 20, I haven’t seen or talked directly to Chan since Lily and I moved into college, 2 years ago. I don’t know what he looks like now as I blocked him on every social media account I had. He was now 22, and I wonder how much he grew in 2 years. I guess I would soon find out since Lily and I were spending the summer at her parent’s vacation rental in Australia for 3 months, and Chan would be there as well. 

[sataniquepanique]

New York, I Love You.

Summary: Eddie plans a trip to NYC for your anniversary, but becomes distant once you land in the city that never sleeps. You know he's hiding something, but you're not sure what.

Genre: fluff, angst, older!Eddie

Warnings: mention of depression/intrusive thoughts

A/N: I'm getting married in 2 weeks (fucking yikes), so I wrote something based on my fiancé's actual proposal to take my mind off of planning shit for two fucking seconds.

“Have you heard about the theory that Van Gogh didn’t actually kill himself?” You chime, looking over the museum map, eagerly tracing an invisible tour path through the winding galleries.

“You’ve only told me about it a million times over the past seven years,” Eddie chuckles as he stares down the entranceway of the Museum of Modern Art. The two of you look incredibly out of place; stark white walls, juxtaposed with tattoos and leather. The soft squeak of your Docs reverberate through the winding hallway, adding to the anxiety that’s been building since stepping foot in New York City two days ago. Something was off with Eddie, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. It started at the airport, he had stopped talking after getting to the gate; chalking it up to nerves about flying, you ignored it. The first day in the city was the same, barely any conversation unless you initiated it, and even less physical affection on his part. Maybe he was still tired from the trip, or maybe he just hated the city? A third reason rears its ugly head and starts to burrow deep inside your conscious; maybe he was getting tired of you. After seven years of being together, of cohabitating in a small apartment outside of Hawkins, of two cats and a dog later, maybe the love of your life was pushing away. 

A hand on the small of your back snaps your attention back to the map. The 1880-1940’s collection is on the 5th floor, allowing you to traverse through the rest of the museum before seeing the one piece this entire trip was centered around.

———

New York City was actually Eddie’s idea, though it doesn’t seem so from his current disconnected behavior. A few months prior he had bounded into the living room, smiling like he had just won the lottery.

“Baby,” he sang in his best, most innocent voice, “how would you feel about going to New York City in July?” 

Your head slowly rose from the book you were buried in. His particular tone was usually only reserved for when he was already in trouble, or plotting something mischievous. 

“What’s your angle, Munson?” Shifting forward on the couch, your eyes narrow in suspicion.

Hand over heart, he looks at you with faux offense, “How dare you think so little of me. I just think we should do something cool for our anniversary this year.”

All your wariness fades to glowing endearment.

“Oh Eds, that’d be amazing! Of course I’d love to go to New York!” 

His face relaxes as he huffs out a relieved breath, “Oh thank god, ‘cause I already bought plane tickets—“

You smile at him, impressed that he had actually planned something ahead of time instead of waiting until the last minute like usual. You’ve been together almost 7 years, and as time went on celebrating your anniversary became less and less theatrical, now consisting of take-out from your favorite Chinese place and a movie of unanimous choosing. Low-key, comfortable, but still full of love, just like you and Eddie.

“—and I also reserved two tickets for the Museum of Modern Art.”

Your eyes almost pop out of your head, “That’s where—“

“—Starry Night is. I know, that’s why I’m taking you there.” He flops down onto the couch, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders as you melt into him.

For your entire life, or at least as long as you can remember, Van Gogh has been your favorite artist. Doing master-copies of his paintings in high school, trying to hard to get his technique just right, obsessing over his use of color to convey emotion. In college you majored in Art History, specializing in Post-Impressionism, spending long nights pouring over books about Vincent’s life and background. As much as you love his work, his story made him that much more intriguing. How a man struggled with such a tragic life and still managed to see the beauty in the world was nothing less than astounding. 

You’ve seen a few of Van Gogh’s pieces in person at museums in the tri-state area, but you haven’t traveled much further. Money’s been tight ever since you and Eddie moved in together a few years ago, but you’ve always had the bug, itching to go far away and see the world with all it has to offer. Eddie shares the same desire, always talking about dream trips and planning fake vacations, waiting for the day you can make them a reality. 

“Eddie, where did you get the money for this?” The thought of possibly spending rent money on plane tickets makes you panic, but he’s is quick to shrug it away.

“I picked up some extra shifts at the shop, we’re fine don’t worry.”

———

Eddie is usually very physically affectionate, constantly having a hold somewhere on your body; but through 4 floors of galleries he hasn’t so much as touched your hand. The lack of contact is all you can think about, barely able to take in any of the artwork you’ve traveled all this way to see. As you make your way to the 5th floor, Eddie trudges behind silently. The awkward tension is killing you, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

Turning into the 1880s gallery, a small crowd of people gather around the far corner. A glimpse of familiar cerulean and marigold swirls, the same brushstrokes you’ve studied for years, peaks over the top of their heads. You swiftly push to the front, and all of the air is crushed from your lungs. 

It’s other-worldly. 

Every photo you’ve ever seen of The Starry Night doesn’t do it justice, not even remotely. The peaks of paint that dot the surface of the canvas, the brightness of each color, none of it can be properly depicted on the pages of a textbook. After so many years of studying this painting, seeing it in the flesh is almost like seeing an old friend. There’s a calmness in it, admiration mixed with giddiness.

You’re close to tears as you feel Eddie’s presence beside you.

“It’s amazing…” his voice is low, partly because of the subdued setting, but also in awe.

All you can muster is a nod as your eyes drag over every inch of the painting, committing it to memory. 

You have to practically rip yourself away, buzzing from the entire experience. 

Eddie waits by the entranceway with his hands in his front pockets, “Do you wanna go get dinner? I’m starving.”

“Sure,” still unnerved by his demeanor, your tone is stoic and emotionless, “Where do you wanna go?”

He scratches the back of his neck, something only done when he’s uncomfortable, “Uh, there’s this pub across 52nd if that’s cool?”

An audible stomach growl answers for you.

Eddie keeps a few feet of distance between your bodies, weaving through groups of people on the crowded sidewalk. You’ve never seen this many people in your life, even at college in Indianapolis. Growing up in Indiana, your hometown was so small that everyone knew each other, same with Eddie’s upbringing in Hawkins. City life always intrigued you, and up until this moment you had thought of Indianapolis as a “big city”; but it was nothing compared to New York. After high school you moved away to college to study art, choosing Indiana University for its busier atmosphere. 

A month after graduating with your BFA, you met Eddie by accident. Moving back home to live with your parents was the last thing you wanted, but finding a good paying job was proving to be more difficult than anticipated. 

Depression started to sink it’s disgusting claws into your psyche; you felt like a failure. 

One night, in a valiant attempt to bring some joy back into your life, your best friend dragged you to a bar in the next town over; the promise of live music and alcohol extremely enticing. Hawkins wasn’t known for much, except for the weird rumors about mysterious disappearances over the years, so you weren’t expecting much from this hole-in-the-wall bar. The Hideout was kind of gross, but in an almost endearing way. The floors were sticky and the air almost unbreathable, but the staff was kind, despite their rough appearances. The bartender chatted the two of you up for while, making jokes and letting you sample whatever beer you wanted to try, all while some metal band played on the rickety stage in the back. 

A little before midnight, the band had packed up and the crowd inside thinned out to just regulars and a few drunk stragglers. As you sat at the bar and waited for your friend to get back from the bathroom, a stranger sat next to you and ordered a beer, greeting the bartender like an old friend. After exchanging a few light-hearted jabs, the stranger smiled and looked over at you. 

“Cheers—“ he holds out the neck of the bottle towards you.

Taken aback by his boldness, you return a small grin, “Cheers to what?” 

He shrugs, sucking his teeth in thought for a second, “To metal? To surviving another gig? I dunno.”

The guitar pick around his neck catches your eye, “Was that your band playing earlier?”

He gives a shy nod, smile stretching wider and accentuating a dimple on his left cheek.

“You guys sounded really good,” You hold out your own bottle towards him.

“I’ll cheers to that,” he taps against yours, a small clink echoing in the almost empty bar. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.” Normally, you would rather die than talk to a random person at a bar, but there was something about this boy that drew you in. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was how ethereal he looked under the neon bar signs, either way you were captivated.

You stayed at the Hideout longer than intended, long after your friend had decided to go home. Eddie made you laugh with stupid jokes and weird stories, sharing your mutual love of horror movies and fantasy books. You were so enthralled that you hadn’t even noticed it was closing time. Apologizing to the bartender, you asked to use their phone to call a cab. Eddie immediately offered to drive you home, promising he wasn’t a serial killer when you profusely questioned him. 

The drive was filled with loud music and scream-singing on both of your parts, Eddie drumming on the steering wheel to the beat as you headbanged beside him. When he pulled up at your parents house, you quickly pulled a pen out of your bag, scribbling your phone number onto his forearm. He winked before driving away, having stayed a few extra minutes to make sure you got inside safely. Every thought for the rest of the night was consumed by Eddie; something was tying you to him, and you wanted to follow that invisible tether all the way to the end.

———

The 52nd Street pub was empty, something that was shocking upon entry, but you were nonetheless a little grateful for it. The quiet was a welcome change from the overwhelming sounds of New York, a small corner of solitude in the center of the city that never sleeps. Welcome almost as much, are the beers that you and Eddie down immediately. 

Though he normally cannot stop talking, Eddie is being uncharacteristically mute. You have to practically drag out any bit of conversation, forcing small talk until the food arrives and you can focus on that instead. 

After a silent meal, the portly older waiter drops off your check and strikes up a conversation with Eddie about your trip and why you were visiting. Eddie put on his polite voice, smiling and laughing along with man’s questions. This stranger was receiving more from him than you had in days. 

The nagging voice in your head struck up again: he’s tired of you.

You stopped paying attention to Eddie’s side-conversation as annoyance consumed you. There was an emerging throb in your head, the physical pain matching the emotional hurt of Eddie’s complete disdain towards you. At this point, all you wanted was to go home.

The sun was setting as you walk out onto the corner of 52nd, and you squint down the street searching for a cab. 

“Hey—“ Eddie smiled at you for what seems like the first time all day, “—wanna go to Central Park?” He points down the street, and you can make out the tops of the trees seven blocks away. 

You shake your head, “I’m really tired, and my head is killing me. I’d rather just go back to the hotel honestly.” 

Eddie’s face falls a little, and you feel slightly guilty, but then remember how uninterested he was all day. 

Again, he glances towards the park, “Are you sure? It’s just a few blocks away—“

“No, Eddie. I just want to go back to the room.” Your voice was stern, annoyed that he only now wanted to spend time with you. A yellow cab crested over the next block, and you raise a hand to get the drivers attention.

“I would rather share one lifetime with you—“ Eddie mumbles behind you. Only half listening, you swear he’s grumbling about not being able to go to the park, and it sets off a rage flare.

“—What?” You snap your head around to face him, eyes narrow and angry, bracing yourself for an argument.

He’s standing a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding up a diamond ring. Your lungs constrict, an audible gasp escaping as you stare at him wide-eyed. He grins sheepishly as you freeze in place.

“Eddie…what?” 

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone,” He repeats, returning your stare with his soft brown eyes. 

“…are you seriously quoting Lord of the Rings to me right now?” You laugh, all tension leaving your body. 

“Did you expect anything less from me?” His deep eyes search yours, silencing the menacing voice in your head, “Marry me, Y/n. I love you more than anything—“

“—more than Gollum loves his precious?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and snorts, “Obviously, you fucking nerd.” 

Scoffing dramatically, you smile and take the ring from his outstretched hand, sliding it onto your finger. 

“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie Munson. I thought you’d never ask.” 

Finally, after days of anxiety and frustration, he kisses you, smiling the entire time. You can almost physically feel the stress leave his body as you hold onto him.

Pulling back you grab his hand, interlocking your fingers, “Is this why you’ve been acting weird?”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I was super nervous. I honestly planned on doing it in front of The Starry Night, but I freaked out when I saw how many people were around.”

Your heart soars at the sentiment, and you look down at your hand in his, the little diamond sparkling in the fading sunlight. 

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Last Christmas (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Last Christmas (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k+ (get yer cocoa, everyone!)

Warnings: Brief moderate language, Steve Harrington being an idiot (as usual, but we love him anyway), friends-to-lovers (if that's a warning)

Summary: Co-written with @mischief_and_mercy on AO3 for Day 8 of Stevemas. Takes place at the end of Stranger Things 2 and inspired by the infamous titular song. You and Steve have been friends for years. You've seen him change and go from relationship to relationship, wishing that one day he might feel the same as you do. When Steve tries to hatch a plan with you to get Nancy back, tensions run high. Will your friendship be over?

It was no secret Steve Harrington struggled with luck. It was even clearer that he had lost his heart to a very prominent figure who also went to Hawkins High: Nancy Wheeler. Despite being friend-zoned too many times to count, you still harbored feelings for the hazel-eyed King Steve. You knew it was stupid—you should know better than to fall for someone who already gave his heart to someone else. 

Everyone saw the way Steve looked at Nancy. Even now, as you both sat in his bedroom, you knew his only thought was of walking into the Snow Ball to see her. He wanted to try to speak with her, to reconcile the broken relationship between the two of them. 

“What would I even-” the boy started as he paced around his room. “I mean, what could I even say to her? She’s…different now, ya know?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod in agreement, “but so are you.”

Steve groaned, hands reaching up to cover and slide down his face. “Why does this have to be so damn complicated?”

“To quote the great Phil Collins-”

“NO!” He was quick to cut you off. “Don’t you start.”

In all the years he’s known you, Steve should have realized this was a losing battle. “You can’t hurry love,” you crooned in a terribly offkey melody. “No, you just have to wait. Love doesn’t come easy, it’s a game of give and take.”

“You’re such a nerd,” he groaned, head falling backwards in frustration. “Besides, wasn’t that song done by the Supremes like a million years ago?”

“And you have the audacity to call me a nerd.”

Steve scrunched his nose, causing a series of wrinkles to appear across his face. “Blame it on my dad,” he argued. “Used to blast that shit everywhere we went. We’re getting off topic here, though. How can I uncomplicate this?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Steve to be happy. In fact, it was quite the opposite; there was nothing you wanted more for him. The two of you had known each other for years and you knew the struggles he had going on at home. More than anything, Steve deserved to find someone who would love him unconditionally.

But…that person wasn’t Nancy. As much as they tried, you can’t force two puzzle pieces together that don’t fit. It only damages the structure of one or both puzzle pieces. And in this situation, the broken puzzle piece was Steve. Nancy had remained intact, perfectly fine to be without Steve. Steve, on the other hand, could barely function without her. As much as you hated it, he had convinced himself that Nancy was the one for him, and as his best friend, you had to do what you could to support him.

“What if you gave her a gift?” you suggested. “Something…nice, that’ll help her remember you. Maybe like a locket?”

Steve paused mid step and tilted his head side to side, as though he was pondering your suggestion. 

Last Christmas I gave you my heart

But the very next day you gave it away

“Maybe I should ditch,” he remarked, mostly to himself. “Maybe I’ll just leave Dustin, run back into the car, and come back here.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Steven Joseph Harrington, I swear to God if you have stressed me out for nothing, I am going to suffocate you with your own damn pillow.”

“Stressed you out?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, it stressed me out! You are absolutely incapable of making a decision and not completely wimping out on that same decision! Grow some balls!”

The dark-haired boy before you wrinkled his nose. “You know,” he started, “we would be having a completely different conversation right now if this was your problem. If you wanted to get back with Frankie Wallace– God knows why you’d want to– you’d be stressing over every detail.” 

“Well, good thing for you I don’t want to go out with Frankie Wallace,” you said evenly as you rested your head on your hand. The unspoken words remained resting on your tongue, heavy and dark. I want to go out with you.

“Yeah, see, that’s your problem. You need to get back out there again,” Steve encouraged, entirely oblivious to your distant longing stares. “Show the little shitbag what he’s missing.”

“That’s gross, Steve. Last time you encouraged me to do that, he stuck his tongue down my throat and I had to sucker punch him in his. Would you like to try that again? Wanna relive another trip to the principal?” 

You watched as your best friend’s jaw clenched and un-clenched in a silent rhythm. He flexed his fingers into a fist. “He did that to you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Why would that matter to him? Was he jealous? As wrong as it was, you almost wished he had some feeling comparable to yours when he looked at Nancy. But you knew it would never happen. Try as hard as you might, you would never truly be Steve’s…person. He would never look at you the way he saw Nancy. To Steve, you would always be his little friend with a face full of freckles and braces, the one who was more interested in homework than the important social gatherings of the school year. 

After the Snow Ball came and went, with Steve’s plan hopefully going off without a hitch, life would go back to normal. You’d pass each other by in the halls, smile on occasion when he’d visit your locker. 

“Yeah, Steve. That’s what happens when you pick the wrong guy.” 

Once bitten and twice shy

I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye

Tell me baby, do you recognize me?

Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me

You knew that Steve remembered what it was like to attract the wrong girl. But… he didn’t know what it was like to look at your best friend, every day, knowing that there would be no one else that could measure up to who you wanted. Despite the absentee parents, Steve had always known how to treat his partners. He would tell you about his dates, how he’d always try to pull out all the stops. You knew his moves, his quirks…those sly tactics he thought were smooth that you had convinced him were borderline sketchy, even if he didn’t mean it to be. If anything, being alone most of his life made him gentle and caring. 

Steve told you about his dream once, when he and Nancy first started dating. He wanted this great big Hawkins family that would have all the love he never received growing up. It shattered your heart into a thousand pieces to hear, but it also made you all the more protective of him. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t the future Nancy would want. She was a girl with big ambitions, who wanted to do more than stay in a town as small as Hawkins. You knew that Steve would support her either way, even if it meant sacrificing what he wanted most, but it didn’t seem fair. Your best friend didn’t deserve to have his heart broken; not by Nancy Wheeler or anyone else. 

“You never…” Steve cleared his throat. “You never told me that.”

“That’s because you were a little…” Too preoccupied with sucking your girlfriend’s face off. “...busy.”

“You can still tell me things!” he exclaimed. The guilt swirled in his eyes, immediately hitting you right in the chest with your own pang of guilt. You probably should have told him when it happened. It would have saved you long nights of avoiding him to cry in your bedroom listening to Bowie and hating how stupid you were. Maybe it would have helped your pride to have him knock some sense into the creep. Although, you knew he would just be picking another fight he was destined to lose.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” I didn’t want to make you feel bad for me while you were happy with your own girlfriend.

Steve whispered your name quietly as he sat on the bed next to you. “No matter how busy I am with a girlfriend, with my friends, there will always be time for you.” He reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “You’re my best friend. It’s part of my responsibilities to protect you from douchebags like Wallace. Not to mention I’d be lost without you.”

You shifted uncomfortably on the comforter, fingers smoothing the material as you refused to meet your best friend’s gaze. How could he say that to you? Your heart thudded against your chest like a rubber ball against a brick exterior. 

“Then why won’t you notice me?” you blurted out, your face burning as your mind registered what had just slipped out of your mouth. “Why do you always go to Nancy when clearly, the both of you can’t work out?!”

Steve recoiled from his position, his expression mimicking that of someone who had been slapped. Burning rage filled your heart, but not at him—never by him. It was at yourself, for ruining the relationship and the gentle peace the both of you had together. Your feelings had always toed the line between friendship and something more with Steve, but you never truly dared to make the leap and cross it. Teasing remarks, gentle touches that lingered just a little too long…yet you didn’t want to take the ultimate risk of revealing your feelings and losing Steve in the process. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you gathered your belongings as quickly as possible with tears building up against your lash line. “I shouldn’t have said that, it was wrong of me and not my place at all.”

A hand encircled your wrist, one that most definitely was not your own. Your gaze flicked from the ground to Steve’s chest, unable to look him in the eyes directly. How could you? You had basically ruined your friendship in one fell swoop. Now you know what a fool you’ve been.

You cleared your throat, still staring at the floor. To hell with it all. You’ve said this much already, what more could happen from you pouring out your heart?

“I’ve liked you for a while, Steve.” you stated quietly, still staring at your sock-covered toes. “I… I think I realized last Christmas. But… When I asked if we were going to spend Christmas together like usual, you preferred to spend it with Nancy. I… I lost my heart that day, Steve. I lost it to you.”

“I-” Steve started as his hand tightened around your wrist. “I didn’t know-”

“How could you, Steve?” you asked bitterly. Considering the rhetorical question, you continued on your outpouring of feelings. “You were too invested with Nancy to see what it was doing to me. You only have eyes for one girl at a time. So when Nancy entered the picture… I was lost from you, Steve.” Your voice broke on your last sentence, “I was lost from you, Steve, and I still am.”

“But you’re right here,” he argued. “I’m right here. Everything’s okay now. I mean, yeah, Hawkins went to shit again, but we’re still alive. We’re still-”

“Just because I am physically here, Steve, doesn’t mean that I don’t feel lost from you! When’s the last time you’ve asked about my day, or about one of my tests, or offered to help me study for one of those tests, or, hell, did you even bother to call me back when I broke up with Frankie?”

“I guess, I guess I, uh,” Steve ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. You could tell he was struggling to search through his memory, holding onto a glimmer of hope he could find a reason. But the truth was, he couldn’t and he never would.

“Forgot,” you huffed in frustration. “You forgot. Again. Because Nancy is the only thing that occupies your brain anymore.”

“That’s not true!!”

“Then what the hell is the truth, then, Steve?! Tell me the damn truth!”

A blank look overtook your best friend’s face as you grew silent after your outburst. You hadn’t meant to lash out at him like you did. It was a therapeutic feeling, though. After watching from the sidelines for so long, having that chance to really tell Steve how you really felt was…freeing. After a moment, you gave up on waiting for an answer. It didn’t really matter what he had to say. You said your piece and now you needed to move on before it was far too late, not only for your friendship – but for yourself. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, you bit your lower lip and grabbed your backpack back up from off the floor. Steve barely registered your movements, only coming back to the real world just before you started down the stairs. You heard his voice call out your name as you walked out the front door, but you had to ignore it. This Christmas, you needed to move on. You needed to let go of Steve Harrington, even if it hurt like hell.  

= = = = = = = = = = =

You hadn’t spoken to Steve for the rest of that day. When he called later that evening, you let it go to voicemail. At school, you ignored him outside of classes, being quick to spot some random “friend” of yours that you hardly knew. You spent most of the day after helping your younger sister get ready for the snow ball, no matter how much she argued that having her older sibling help was practically a dramatic attempt for social suicide.

Well, at least she wasn’t going to the Snow Ball in what she thought was the epitome of fashion (which it was most definitely not). Resisting the urge to ruffle her hair, you all but shoved her out the door to the car. Why put all of your hard work to waste and let her be late for the event?

The last thing on your mind was if you would cross paths with Steve in the parking lot. Given everything that had gone on since your last conversation, it wasn’t as if he was at the forefront of your thoughts. At this point, your main focus was on making sure your little sister had the best Snow Ball ever, even if it meant you needed to sit and monitor a punch bowl for three hours.

After placing the keys in the ignition, you drove to the biggest event your middle school sister could ever dream to have. As you entered the parking lot of Hawkins Middle School, you could already tell that no expense had been spared with the event planning committee’s strenuous budget. Balloons and streamers littered the walls in a variety of pale winter colors. You were almost glad that you had opted to dress you and your sister in darker tones, as it would help you stand out against the backdrops.

Once parked, your sister couldn’t wait to get out of the car. She made a beeline for the sign-in sheet and was quick to start catching up with her new friend, Max. After you signed yourself in, you couldn’t help but look around for Dustin. You had half expected him to be here by now, but there was no sign of the curly haired genius child.  

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes

I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice

Despite your vehement wishes for Steve not to show up, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when you didn’t see him walk through the doors. You wanted him not to show up, it’s what you had hoped for all along… Right? But the heavy feeling in your chest and the spiraling thoughts inside of your head said otherwise. You tried to distract yourself with ever-so-important punch monitor duties, dragging the ladle through the liquid to create ripples within the bowl. 

About an hour into your self-made prison, you heard the sound of a throat clearing in front of you. Oh. Oh no. As you glanced up, you locked eyes with the boy you had spent the last few days trying to avoid. Steve wasn’t dressed up, not really. He had on his favorite red sweater and a pair of Levi’s. Even with the curious look of concern etched into his features, he still looked incredibly Steve-like. 

My God, I thought you were someone to rely on

Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on

Now that feeling in your chest blossomed into something incredibly unwanted that would make you forgive Steve in the span of a fraction of a second. This time, it was familiar. It was the same feeling that made you hold onto the thought of him finally dating you for oh so long.

“Hey,” he stuttered. “Can I, uh, have some punch, please?”

“Pretty sure it’s just for the kids,” you couldn’t help the sharpness to your tone.

“I could make sure it’s not spiked?” he offered weakly. The puppy eyes he gave you were enough to make you want to put your hands over your face, if not just to resist the temptation of forgiving him oh-so-quickly. You knew it would hurt even more if you let him back into your heart. So why were you longing to pour some punch in a glass in a peace-making gesture?

Deep down, you knew why. 

It was because it was Steve, the boy you had known since the two of you could crawl (albeit not very well on his part). This was the guy who spent every minute of summer break in your backyard, talking for hours about the things he wanted to do when he could finally get away from his home – to finally be free. This was Steve, your best friend, who knew your favorite ice cream flavor and your favorite movies. It wouldn’t matter how many times he broke your heart, because he would always be there, in the back of your mind and your most important memories.

“That’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, “that’s why people like me are on the payroll, I’m afraid. This punch has already passed inspection. Although, I’m sure Nance might need some help at table seven.”

“I don’t want to help Nancy,” Steve explained as a bite of frustration crept into his tone. “I want to focus on you.”

Your words rang back to you in what you had spit at him during your fight. Nancy is the only thing that occupies your brain anymore. You hated that he still held onto that. Despite the truth to those words you had said, regret slithered around your heart and crushed it in a vice-like grip. Was there truly any more hope towards a relationship between you and Steve?

“Then why do I find that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’ve messed up,” Steve said honestly. “I’ve messed up, but I really, really want to be able to make it up to you. Please, let me make this up to you.” 

A sigh escaped your lips and your gaze traveled back down to the punch bowl before you. It would be an internal battle, this decision. But really, what else did you have to lose? He had already shattered your heart before. What’s one more time? “And how do you expect to do that, Harrington?”

His hand dipped into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, which was horribly wrapped. The edges of your lips twitched in an attempt to silence your laughter at how poor his wrapping job truly was.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“A present… for you. I just… I thought you should have it, y’know, in case you won’t let me do anything for Christmas. As awful as it sounds, I figured you’d actually take the present in public rather than in private… I know you hate me. I’ve been an awful friend.”

Hate. For some reason, that word just bothered you. Did you really hate Steve? After everything the two of you had been through as kids, would this really be the end of your friendship? 

Swallowing hard, you reached your hand out wordlessly for the gift. “For the record,” you mused as you picked at the paper, “I don’t hate you. I’m just…I guess I don’t know how to feel. I said some things and you…well, you didn’t. I don’t know where that leaves us now.” 

“I… I don’t really know where that leaves us either,” Steve said quietly. “But what I do know is I don’t want to lose you.”

Without another word, you started to rip at the wrapping paper. After removing its disguise, you discovered it was a small silver box. You frowned up at Steve in confusion as you lifted the lid off of the top. What you saw surprised you even more. Placed on a bed of crushed purple velvet sat a silver letter “S”.

“You decided to get me something with your initial?” you asked, unamused.

“It’s not- It’s not to mark you as mine or stupid shit like that!” Steve spit out. “I uh… I just uh…” He somehow managed to pull himself together enough to say, “I want to be yours. I want to gift you flowers and make you breakfast and point at random stars in the night sky and act like I know the story behind constellations I still can’t see. And most of all… I want to remind you that you are always going to take priority. I don’t want anyone else.”

“But- but what about Nancy?” you asked, wide eyes locked onto his own soft gaze.

“It’s not about Nancy anymore,” he replied. “To be honest with you, I don’t think it ever really was. See, when Nance…when she left me, I think I just– well, I think I felt pretty stupid. Like maybe, maybe there was something wrong with me. I was a jerk these last few years. No, no, I was more than a jerk. I was a real dick. And I guess…” He hesitated before he continued. “I guess I was afraid if I even tried to find someone else, I’d just screw it up like I normally do.”

You frowned. “You don’t screw things up, Steve.”

“No, I did,” he argued. “I really, really did.”

“You didn’t-” you started again.

“If I didn’t screw things up, then why didn’t I have the guts to tell you I loved you six years ago?”

“Because I didn’t have the guts to tell you that I loved you either.”

The two of you stood in silence for several minutes, eyes flickering around the room to find something– anything– to talk about and break the spell. Something had changed between the two of you now and there was definitely no going back. While part of you wanted to scream of happiness from Steve’s confession, another part of you was scared. What if you tried and it messed everything up even more? What if you lost Steve entirely?

As if he sensed your unease, Steve took a few steps around the side of the table. His hand found your own as he laced his fingers with yours. The other hand went to your cheek, cradling your face gently. His eyes searched yours as he leaned closer, his cologne sweeping through your senses and preventing smells other than him from making their way to you. Lips grazed yours as both your eyes shuttered closed, bodies leaning into one another. 

Finally, finally you were kissing Steve Harrington…and he was kissing you back.

Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.

------------ Authors' Note:

frostandflames- Well that's a wrap on day 8 of my Stevemas event. I just want to say thank you to mischief_and_mercy for helping me out and being willing to collaborate with me on today’s fic. This story was actually their idea, so make sure to give them some support and check out their stuff over on AO3! They write for a variety of characters, including the gang from Stranger Things and MCU.

If you liked this story and want to see more collabs like this on either of our profiles, make sure to comment, tag your friends, and reblog. Likes are appreciated, but it's the other types on interactions that help spread the word about our work and motivate our brain cells to keep working together.

AND if you want updates on the rest of Stevemas, maybe consider giving my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I won't spam your dash outside of sharing the works of other amazing writers and creators on this hellsite.

Until next time, my little sparks! <3

mischief_and_mercy: Hey guys! I hope y'all enjoy the fic! Give all the love to El for coming up with the idea and helping us along (no matter what she says about me…). She's put so much hard work into this, so give her all the love you can spare <3 please leave a comment or a reblog (or both ;D)! Happy Holidays lovelies!

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

[chaos-and-ink]

!!!

Since you like drawing anatomy is there a part you like drawing most or least?

How did you get a hang of drawing certain things like hands, feet, faces etc?

What phase of the art process in your favorite? (Sketching, lining, rendering etc)

How many layers do you usually have on a piece?

Do you find people, objects or animals easy or harder than one another? (Rephrased, which is easier, which is harder?)

Do you often add backgrounds to pieces if so how simple or how complex to they normally get?

Do you prefer simplistic drawings or do you like adding details/making detailed pieces?

How'd you find your style?

-sparrow

Since you like drawing anatomy is there a part you like drawing most or least?

I love drawing hands. It's such a weird thing to like but they're just so posable and they really hold a lot of information. It's also just so satisfying to add each finger lmfaooo. One thing I don't like drawing is the torso. Like oh my goddddd, I get way too confused trying to figure out how to move it around. ALSO FACES. I hate faces with a burning passion.

How did you get a hang of drawing certain things like hands, feet, faces etc?

I used to absolutely hate drawing hands. I'd hide them every and any way I could lmao. But I started using LineOfAction and did the hands practice photos and eventually started to get the hang of it. The more I drew them and stopped hiding, the better I got. It also helps to really break the hands down so you're thinking smaller instead of bigger. Each section of the palm is a shape vs the entire hand as one shape. It makes it easier to tackle.

As for feet, I never understood it until I watched this one video by DrizzleDrawing. It basically breaks the foot down into three shapes. The heel. arch. and toes. You can layer/foreshorten these shapes and it makes the foot look a lot more dimensional and accurate. I don't really know how to explain this in writing haha.

And for faces... I have no mastered faces at all. I'm still hiding from them. But if I've learned anything from my past experinces, I need to just face my fears (pun intended) and start drawing them more instead of hiding.

What phase of the art process in your favorite? (Sketching, lining, rendering etc)

SKETCHING!! I love sketching so much oh my goddddd. I have millions of sketches. I swear they always look so much better than my finished pieces. As soon as I do lineart or add colours my art just goes downhill lmfao.

How many layers do you usually have on a piece?

I like to combine layers as I move along. Normally I'll have my sketch layer. A line art layer. A layer for each base colour. Then a clipping mask layer on each of those base colour layers for shading. After that I kinda just add layers whenever I need them and start merging them when I can.

Do you find people, objects or animals easy or harder than one another? (Rephrased, which is easier, which is harder?)

Objects are the hardest because I'm horrible at understanding dimension and perspective. I've never been formally taught the theories of it so I just make shit up and hope it looks okay. Animals are some of my favourite things to draw though I don't do it often. I love cats in particular. They're probably the easiest for me to draw.

In fact, I used to only draw animals and never draw humans. I just started branching into humans a few years ago so I'm still getting the hang of it. I'd say they're relatively easy to draw until I get to the face. Then I'm screwed haha.

Do you often add backgrounds to pieces if so how simple or how complex to they normally get?

Because I don't really get perspective much, I try to avoid complex backgrounds. However, if I'm up for a challenge, I love making detailed pieces with backgrounds or settings. It's super fun to decorate and create a space. I need to work on my perspective and object drawing so I can do better at it.

Do you prefer simplistic drawings or do you like adding details/making detailed pieces?

I like a good mix of both honestly. I think too much detail can clutter and too simplistic can be 'boring'. So when I make a piece that's simple with just flat colours, I try to compensate by adding lots and lots of content and flow for the viewers eyes to move around. But if I make a really complex rendered piece I try to simplify the subject so there's not too much going on. If I have a very very simple subject, like painting a single flower, I try to compensate by adding something unique or creative. Like a slash of black paint and a value change or something like that. I think it's really just a balancing act and I like to stay towards the middle.

How'd you find your style?

Honestly still don't feel like I have a style. It changes so much. But the more I drew the more it developed.

I think the other biggest thing was taking in as much information as I could. I would watch my brother draw ever since I was a little kid. I observed the techniques he used and I took what I liked and kept it, and I modify what I didn't like, and discarded what I hated. I watch a lot of artists on YouTube too just to see how they do different things and pick up random miscellaneous tips that all combined to develop my style. I think it's also really important to immerse yourself in art. I follow literally like 400 artists on Instagram and I'm constantly being bombarded with the curated art I love and it helps inspire me. Just examining and appreciating the art allows me to find things I like and try to replicate it.

Finding your art style is just as much finding what you like as it is finding what you don't like. You gotta observe first. Then develop by drawing.

Thanks so much for the questions!!! 💜 I hope all of this made sense lmfao if you have any more questions or what help I'd be super happy to help. :)))

[burgundybmw]

You Belong With Me

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Nancy Wheeler x Fem!Henderson!Reader , Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers (Temporarily)

Word Count: 7,334

Warnings: Love Triangle, Jonathan slander (I love him as Will's brother, but hate him as Nancy's boyfriend), and I think that's it?

Summary: Barbara Holland, Nancy Wheeler, and Y/N Henderson were the closest of friends growing up. They had sleepovers, braided each others hair, and spent hours talking and giggling on the phone. Y/N loved Barbara, and so did Nancy, but the two girls always had a rather intense friendship beyond the trio. That all changed when Barbara died, and it only got worse when Nancy started dating Jonathan. You see, Y/N Henderson was in love with Nancy Wheeler, and seeing her with Jonathan Byers ate her up inside. Their friendship was doomed from the moment she saw how she looked at him.

Over a year passes and Y/N makes new friends, tries to forget about the girl she spent years dreaming about. She gets a job at the ice cream shop in the mall alongside her new best friend Robin, a girl who understands what's she's going through, and Steve, the ex-boyfriend of the love of her life. Y/N wishes that was the strangest thing that happened to her that summer, but Hawkins always has a bad habit of bringing back stranger things.

Author's Note: I saw a trend on TikTok where you use a bunch of filters and write a fic based on what you get. Here were my results: Sibling- Dustin Henderson/ Love Interest- Nancy Wheeler / Best Friend- Robin Buckley / Rival- Upside Down Monsters / Trope- Love Triangle / Other Person In Love Triangle- Jonathan Byers / Random AO3 Tag- Hurt/Comfort / Random Quote- “he always had been, and always will be, somewhat of a menace to society” / Taylor Swift Song Inspo- You Belong With Me /

This is the fic that resulted in those filters, hope you guys enjoy! Also I'm an idiot and accidentally deleted the original post, whoops! Thankfully I saved it on Word!

Scoops Ahoy wasn't a terrible summer job. There were some good benefits, like free ice cream, and getting paid to hang out with her best friend. There were some not so good benefits, like dealing with rude customers, and wearing that stupid sailor hat. However, the one thing that Y/N Henderson thought about the most was seeing Nancy Wheeler with her boyfriend Jonathan Byers, pointedly avoiding looking into the mall's frozen confectionery joint. Whether that was a benefit or not was still up for debate.

The thing was, Y/N hadn't spoken to Nancy in eight months. If you were to ask her two years ago, she'd tell you that you were crazy. Y/N and Nancy were best friends, closer than blood, but that wasn't the case anymore. They stopped being that close after Barb died, and they stopped speaking all together when Nancy told her she was dating Jonathan. Y/N could remember the fight like it was yesterday, the day her heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.

"What the hell are you talking about?! I thought you were dating Steve! When did this happen?!" Y/N was so confused, Nancy had been giving her radio silence since Halloween. They had gotten into a brief argument when Y/N said she wanted to go to Trina's Halloween party. Nancy had thrown a fit, told her not to go. She didn't understand why she was so upset. It was just a lame high school party. Nancy said the last time she went to a party with a friend Barb died, and that shut her up real quick. Both girls held onto the guilt of their friend's death. Nancy for hooking up with Steve and asking Barb to leave, and Y/N for refusing to go in the first place. This fight wasn't like the last one, this felt more personal to Y/N.

"I don't see why you're so mad. Why do you even care that I'm dating Jonathan now?" Nancy replied, rolling her big doe eyes at her. They were in Nancy's room, she asked Y/N to come over that morning to talk. She didn't know what she was walking into when she crossed the threshold of the Wheeler house, but this certainly wasn't it.

"Um, maybe because he took creepy pictures of you half naked?! I mean holy shit Nancy, that's so wrong!" Steve might have been a tool, but he wasn't a creepy stalker. Y/N remembers watching Steve break Jonathan's camera after he found out about the pictures. Nancy got so mad at him for it, and for the life of her Y/N didn't stand why. If Nancy was her girlfriend she would have punched Jonathan square in the face for invading her privacy like that, but Nancy wasn't her girlfriend, and never would be.

"He apologized for that..." Nancy started before Y/N interrupted her.

"Ugh, barely! And you forgave him way too quickly for it. That was such gross boy behavior I can't even begin to tell you. Also, pretty sure it's very fucking illegal." Y/N really should have known better. Nancy had been giving hints about Jonathan for the past year, telling her he wasn't so bad. It didn't matter, she would never forgive him for what he did. The only reason she forgave Steve was because he didn't actually spray paint that garbage on the theater, and cleaned it up himself after dropping Tommy H and Carol as friends. The fact that he let her punch him in the face too helped.

"He wasn't trying to take naked pictures of me, he was trying to find his brother." She was still trying to defend it, like that was a totally reasonable thing to do.

"He still did it though! And he developed the photos anyway! How can you not only justify that, but defend it! Besides, when did you even break up with Steve, I thought you guys were fine?" Y/N didn't want Nancy with either of them, but if she had to pick at least Steve was somewhat decent. Dustin idolized him, and Y/N couldn't hate someone her brother loved so much.

"Halloween... I think." Nancy murmured, she was fiddling with the end of her sweater, something she only did when she was nervous or lying. Y/N knew all of her tells, she knew Nancy like the back of her hand. She smelled shit, and Nancy was full of it.

"You think. How do you not know when you broke up with the boyfriend that you've been dating for a year?!" This wasn't like Nancy. The Nancy she knew was confident, so sure of herself and everything she did. This Nancy was timid and shy. It bothered Y/N to the core.

"Well, we didn't really formally break up. It was more like we fought and just decided to not be together anymore. It was an unspoken thing." Unspoken. How the hell do you break up with someone unspokenly.

"Was that before or after you hooked up with Jonathan." Y/N couldn't control the venom in her voice. She knew it was wrong to throw that in her face, to imply what she did, but in the moment she didn't care. How the hell did Jonathan Byers earn Nancy's affections when he didn't even fucking know her, and she couldn't.

That was the root of the whole thing. Y/N could never be objective when it came to Nancy's relationships, not when she wanted to be with her instead. Y/N Henderson had been in love with her since they were kids. She fell in love with Nancy when she still wore her hair in pigtails, and hadn't stopped since then.

No one knew she was gay. She never told a soul. Not even Dustin, who she shared everything with. She used to feel bad about keeping the secret, until she noticed Dustin keeping secrets from her too. Ever since Will disappeared, and then come back 10 days later seemingly back from the dead, everyone Y/N cared about started keeping secrets from her. It was starting to get on her last nerve.

"Oh don't you judge me Y/N. You don't even know what it's like!" Nancy yelled, getting the same pissy attitude her brother had.

"I don't know what it's like? Really, Nancy? I know that I would never go out with a boy who did something like that!" Y/N was yelling at her. She hated yelling at Nancy, but she just wasn't listening to her.

"Oh it's so easy for you to say that Y/N! So easy for you to talk out of your ass about how boys are!" Nancy's voice was louder now, getting right in her face with it. She hated it, she hated Nancy looking at her like she was being ridiculous. Nancy was in the wrong, not her.

"How boys are?! Christ Nancy do you even hear yourself! How the hell wouldn't I know! That's all you've been talking about for the past two years!" She was so sick and tired of hearing about this stupid shit. Sick of arguing over it. It was all so stupid.

"Well it's not my fault you don't like boys!" Nancy screamed, and then it was silence. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. She hit the nail right on the head with that one. Threw the one thing in Y/N's face that she'd been terrified about herself for as long as she could remember. Y/N couldn't look at her, couldn't speak to her. She just walked right out of Nancy's door, slamming it shut behind her. They hadn't spoken since.

After that fight, Y/N started walking home in the rain. She was too afraid to call her mom to her pick her up, she didn't want to explain to her what happened. She walked in the rain until she crashed into someone on a bike, they were whipping around a corner as she was crossing the street. It was Robin Buckley, a girl she was in band with. They didn't speak that often, but knew of each other's existence.

When she crashed into Y/N, she started rattling off apologies, telling her she was trying to pick up maple syrup for her french toast but got caught in the rain. Robin noticed that she was crying, and when she asked her what was wrong, Y/N let the floodgates loose. Right there in the middle of the street. Nobody around to hear her confession in the storm. Y/N told Robin everything, that she was gay, in love with her best friend, how said best friend just broke her heart, and even though she was heart broken, she knew that she would never stop loving Nancy Wheeler.

After she was done, the panic settled in. The weight of what she just said to a near stranger paralyzing her with fear. Until the unexpected happened, Robin laughed. Not a cruel laugh, or a making fun of her laugh. It sounded like relief. That's when Robin told her that she was gay too, that she didn't think she'd ever meet another gay person in all of Hawkins in a million years, and yet she literally crashed into one. Both girls laughed in the rain, before Robin asked if she wanted to come over her house for french toast. Y/N agreed, and they've been best friends ever since.

They spent the rest of the school year glued to the hip. Robin would wax poetic about Tammy Thompson and Vickie from band, and Y/N would vent about Nancy Wheeler. They'd stand next to each other on the bleachers with their ridiculous band uniforms on, whispering to each other between music numbers. She would watch Jonathan and Nancy take pictures of the cheerleading squad, and Y/N would dream about the day that Nancy realized that he wasn't good for her. That she would wake up from whatever fantasy she made up with him, and find that Y/N was the person she was really looking for. The one who had been there for her the entire time. Who knew her better than she knew herself. She knew it was just a fantasy, you can't make someone love you. Especially another girl.

When the school year ended, Robin and Y/N decided to look for summer jobs together. They both applied to the new ice cream shop in the mall, and on the first day they both realized that they weren't working alone. Steve Harrington also got a job at Scoops Ahoy, and when he saw her he was instantly relieved that he was working with a familiar face. Y/N was surprised he was so excited to see her, considering what she did a year prior. Steve had told her that he deserved it, and to let bygones be bygones. Robin wasn't too thrilled at first, but both girls couldn't help but enjoy working with Steve.

She got to know him better those first couple of weeks, and he kept begging her to tell him about what Dustin was up to at camp. It was sweet, how much he cared about her brother. That's what really sold Steve to her. She saw how much he changed over the past year. He was still a bit full of himself, but he wasn't the tool she made him out to be. The only fuck up he made was when he asked why she wasn't hanging out with Nancy anymore, but kept his mouth shut when she gave him the iciest glare she could muster, colder than the ice cream freezer they used daily.

Today, Y/N was up at the front counter reorganizing the to go cups, when she heard a ding from the bell behind her.

"Ahoy! My name is..." Y/N started before she realized who was standing there. Nancy Wheeler, alone, in all of her glory. Her heart was pounding in her chest, Nancy was the last person she expected to walk into Scoops Ahoy. The words were caught in her throat, as she stared helplessly at the girl in front of her.

"Hi Y/N..." Nancy sounded awkward, unsure of herself. A similar tone she had the last time they spoke all those months ago. Y/N didn't like it then, and she didn't like it now.

"Uh hi, um, what are you doing here?" Y/N asked, there were plenty of other ice cream shops in Hawkins. She knew that Nancy purposefully avoided this one, she saw her speed walk past the entrance every time she came to the mall.

"To get ice cream?" Nancy replied lamely, she was fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. Lie.

"We both know that's not the real reason..." She really wished Robin and Steve would come back from their breaks soon. She didn't want to be alone with Nancy.

"Look," Nancy sighed, "I just wanted to, um, talk to you? If that was okay?" Y/N couldn't wrap her head around why. It had been months of radio silence, walking around school like they were strangers, why now? Before she could respond, Robin walked into the front door of the ice cream shop, completely oblivious to the girl at the counter.

"Y/N you would not believe who I just saw fall flat on their face in the food court!" Robin began before realizing they weren't alone. She looked between Nancy and her, raising her eyebrow as a silent question: Are you okay?

"Hey Robin, would you mind running the counter for a bit? I'm gonna go on break now." She had already taken her break, but she hoped Robin would understand what she really meant to say.

"Are you sure you wanna go now? You usually take them later?" Robin was giving her an out, knowing all the complicated details of her relationship with Nancy, she was such a good friend to her.

"Yea I'm good thanks." Y/N replied as she took the sailor hat off of her head. Robin nodded and switched spots with her behind the counter. Y/N started walking towards the door, Nancy following closely behind. Once they made it out, Y/N lead Nancy to the employee's only hallway of the mall, she wanted privacy for the conversation they were about to have.

"Okay, so what did you want to talk about?" Y/N asked, trying to present herself as calm as a cucumber, but inside she was a nervous wreck.

"I wanted to apologize... What we fought about, God, it was so stupid. You were right, and I was being a shitty friend." Nancy's eyes were glassy as she spoke to her, the threat of unshed tears just over the horizon. Y/N couldn't stand it when Nancy cried, it always broke her heart a little bit each time.

"Yea, you were being a shitty friend," Y/N began, "but so was I. I shouldn't have thrown what happened with Jonathan in your face like that. It was wrong, and I'm sorry..." Instant relief flooded her veins. It was as if a massive weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She didn't want to be angry with Nancy anymore, not for something she couldn't change. It wasn't right.

"You weren't wrong though... What happened between Steve, Jonathan, and I was messy. I was just insecure about it and lashed out at you..." Nancy took a deep breath, willing the tears to stay back. "You're my best friend, and I pushed you away. I've been so lost since Barb died, and I didn't even consider your feelings too. I was so selfish. I saw you walk in the halls and ignored you because I was too afraid to talk to you. I thought I broke us..." Y/N didn't know when he brain made the decision to hug her, but her body moved to do it as soon as she heard the first sniffle. She hugged Nancy tight, the smell of her floral shampoo an old comfort she had nearly forgotten about.

"You didn't break us. You know I'll always be here for you Nancy. We had a bad fight, but it's going to be okay" Y/N ran her fingers through her friends hair, the soft curls wrapping themselves between each digit. She could feel Nancy sink into her, not an inch between them.

"I missed you so much Jellybean..." Y/N's heart soared at the old nickname. Nancy started calling her that in kindergarten after she got a jellybean stuck in her ear. She didn't remember how it got there in the first place, but the nickname stuck too.

"I missed you too Fancy Nancy..." She could feel her giggles against her chest, and as much as it ached, she knew everything was going to be okay. Whatever happened in the future, she knew that she wouldn't leave Nancy's side, never again.

Weeks went by as the girls picked up right where they left off. Like it was easy. Nancy would come by Scoops Ahoy on her days off and update her on what was going on in her life. What Mike and the kids were up too, how her relationship with Jonathan was going, and her new job at the Hawkins Post. Y/N hated that they weren't taking her seriously, and told her as such.

"Those stupid man-boys wouldn't know a good story if it flew right under their nose. You're way too good to be dealing with that shit, I'm sorry they suck" Nancy chuckled over her vanilla ice cream, always with rainbow sprinkles.

"Yea, but it's a good job to put on a resume. Thank you for saying that though, Jonathan just doesn't get it when I talk to him about it" Y/N had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She hated the dull look on her face when she would talk about how the men at the post treated her, or when Jonathan disappointed her.

"He's a guy. Of course he doesn't get it," Y/N began before she could tell her mouth to shut up before she reveals too much, "you know, you have a smile that could light up all of Hawkins, and I haven't seen it since you started working at the post with Jonathan."

"I'm fine Jellybean, promise" But she knew Nancy better than that. She wasn't fine, and Y/N didn't know what she was doing with men like that. Men who didn't listen to her, or understand where she was coming from. She didn't deserve it.

"Whatever you say Nancy..." And that was the end of it. Nancy changed the subject, and Y/N had to pretend that her heart wasn't pounding in her chest. When Nancy walked out the door, Y/N turned around to see Robin's concerned face. Steve wasn't back on break yet, he always took it when Nancy came to visit, so they were alone in the store. Not a nosy customer in sight.

"Are you okay?" Robin asked as she filled a small cup with S'mores Galore, her personal favorite.

"I will be. It's nothing new, I'd rather have her be in my life talking about her dumb boyfriend than out of it" She knew she was being a bit unfair towards Jonathan. He might not be her favorite person in the world, but she couldn't say he was all bad. Y/N knew what it was like to be an older sibling without a second parent in the house; it was hard and you had to grow up much faster than other kids. Jonathan was an excellent brother to Will, and a great son to Joyce. He just made shitty choices and decided to date the love of her life, so she allowed herself to hate him just a little bit.

"Yea I guess... but you know I'm always here to talk if you need to. It can't be easy hearing the person you love talk about loving someone else. I only had a crush on Tammy and it nearly destroyed me watching her look at Steve the way she did, I can't even imagine what it must be like for you. Sounds like pure torture." Y/N loved Robin's honesty, but sometimes her comments hit a little too close for comfort. It could be torture, but a torture she could endure.

"It is what it is. Who knows, maybe when I go to college I'll find a girl who actually likes other girls... I could finally move on from her..." Deep down she was afraid nobody would hold a candle to her best friend, that she would have to settle for second best. The thought kept her up at night.

"You and me both sister" Robin chuckled. A part of her wished she could have fallen in love with Robin instead, a girl who could actually love her in return. They tried kissing once many months ago, it was the first kiss either of them ever had. At first it was a peck, and then they tried making out a bit to see if anything would happen. Both girls decided that it just wasn't right for them, that they didn't feel any type of spark. They both decided to stay platonic best friends, with a capital P as Robin so lovingly referred to it. No awkwardness followed the kiss, something Y/N appreciated whole heartedly. She didn't know what she would've done if the kiss ruined their friendship. One friendship break up was enough for a life time.

"What are you girls talking about?" Steve asked as he walked into the front doors of Scoops Ahoy.

"Nothing you need to worry about, dingus" Steve rolled his eyes at the familiar nickname and got back to work. Completely oblivious to the conversation they had before. It was better that way, Y/N didn't know how he would react if he knew the truth. That not only was Y/N Henderson gay, she was in love with his ex girlfriend.

"Oh by the way Steve, Dustin comes home from camp tomorrow." A massive smile spread across his face as he bombarded her with questions about her brother. She neglected to tell him that he was coming by the shop the next day, Dustin had told her he wanted to surprise him. She didn't know how and when her brother and Steve got so close, but you would never hear any complaints from her.

Y/N was sitting on the couch in her sailor uniform when she heard a pounding at the door. She didn't have to be at Scoops Ahoy for another couple hours, and she had the house to herself. Dustin was at the mall with Steve, a place he spent most of his days recently, and her mom was out running errands. At first she thought it was her brother, probably freaking out because he lost his house keys again, but to her surprise it was Nancy at the door. Her eyes filled with tears and smudged mascara.

"Oh my god Nancy what happened?" Y/N didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around her friend. She hadn't seen her this upset in years, not since Barb died.

"I think I just broke up with Jonathan..." Nancy sobbed. She hated the brief flash of joy she felt when Nancy spoke, it wasn't fair to her. Y/N nodded and held her hand as they walked up to her bedroom. Once she sat Nancy down on her bed she ran downstairs to get her a glass of water and box of tissues. When she finally got upstairs she found Nancy looking at the picture of the two of them right before High School started on the nightstand. Barb had taken the picture, and it was one of her most prized possessions. Y/N ignored the flutter in her chest, Nancy looked at that photo with such fondness it nearly tore her apart.

"Tell me what happened..." Y/N said as she rubbed circles on her friend's back, doing as much as she could to comfort her.

"We got in a fight... I got us both fired from the Hawkins Post because of a lead I had. I know it's a good story Jellybean, but they just wouldn't listen. Jonathan was upset because he needed the job, and he basically called me spoiled for not understanding why he was upset. As if I'm stupid..." Y/N knew about the Byers financial situation, and it definitely wasn't easy, but she wasn't about to tell Nancy that.

"Like I get it, his family doesn't have a lot of money, but he could always get another job. I will stuck being belittled because I'm a woman for the rest of my life. He basically defended how they treated me because they got him a job! Like he didn't even care how I was feeling! And when I told him how humiliated I was, he just told me that the real worlds sucks! That I just had to deal with it!"

"Are you fucking serious?!" Y/N was fuming now. It was one thing to be ignorant of how Nancy was treated at her job, it was another thing to be complacent and tell her to lay down and take it.

"Yes! He sounded just like the assholes at work! And god, when I told him I shouldn't have even bothered venting to him in the first place, and should have gone to you instead, he nearly lost it!" Y/N's chest felt tight, frustration, aggravation, pride, and lovesickness swirled inside of her.

"What did he say?" She whispered, not trusting her mouth at the moment.

"That's the crazy part, he just told me I should just date you instead if you're the only thing I talk about! He kept saying that I was obsessed with you! That during our entire relationship all I cared about was Y/N Henderson! I mean, Jesus, he accused me of being secretly in love with you!" Nancy rambled, and Y/N swore her heart stopped. Hope bloomed inside of her, that maybe her feelings weren't unrequited after all. She was scared, terrified of letting herself feel that hope. It was a dangerous thing.

"Why, uh, why would he say that?" She swore her tongue tripled in size, it was nearly impossible to speak.

"Hell if I know! Of course I love you! You're my best friend! That's totally normal! I even told him that, I said it wasn't my fault that he didn't have a friendship like ours!" Nancy rambled, her mouth running a mile a minute, "Like of course I want to be with you all the time, especially after our fight! God Jellybean, you don't even know, all those months of silence nearly killed me. It felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I cried myself to sleep almost every night. I didn't cry that much after Steve and I broke up, or in the car on my way here. When I said it felt like I broke our friendship, it's because it broke me. That was more of a break up than any relationship I've ever had!"

Y/N didn't know what possessed her to do what she did. Every fiber of her being was lit up like an electrical storm. She didn't think, didn't hesitate for a second, before she pressed her lips against Nancy's. Y/N could taste the strawberry chapstick she always wore over her lipstick, could feel the soft curls of her hair as she gently held her face. This was the feeling she was looking for when she kissed Robin, the instant fireworks, the spark. It was everything she ever wanted it to be, until she realized Nancy wasn't kissing her back, and then reality sank in. She pulled back to see her best friend, the love of her life, look at her like she was a stranger. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and her mouth was wide open in shock.

"Oh my God... Holy shit Nancy, I'm so sorry. I, I, I don't know what came over me! I'm sorry, please don't hate me!" Y/N pleaded, but Nancy just continued to stare at her. The silence was deafening, and she couldn't take it. So Y/N did what felt best, and ran right out the door. She grabbed the keys to her car and drove right to Scoops Ahoy, nausea and fear nearly consuming her. She had kissed her best friend. Nancy knew she liked girls. It felt like the end of the world.

As it would turn out, her kiss with Nancy wasn't the worst thing to happen to Y/N Henderson that day. In fact, it wasn't even in the same ballpark. When she rushed into Scoops Ahoy, she found her brother, Steve, Robin, and Lucas' little sister Erica forming a plan to defeat Russian spies that broke into Starcourt Mall. Dustin yelled at his sister for getting involved, something he desperately wanted to avoid. Y/N yelled at him for keeping secrets, and Steve told them both to shut up while they were stuck in some secret elevator underneath the mall.

Hours passed like that, the five of them in the elevator. Y/N forced her brother to tell her everything, that she wouldn't allow anymore secrets between them, and he did. He told her about this girl named Eleven who had psychic powers and came from Hawkins Lab. He told her about the monsters that came out of this alternate dimension they called the Upside Down. He told her about how Will was trapped there for 10 days, and how they all got him back. He told her how this Eleven girl had closed the gate, and that apparently Russians were plotting something underneath Starcourt mall. Her brain was overloading with information, and it took her almost an hour to come to terms with it. Robin had made a joke and said she was just as clueless as she was, but she didn't feel like laughing. Once she figured it all out, she smacked her brother on the back of the head for lying to her, and hugged him so tight with the fear of potentially losing him.

Y/N Henderson had started her morning like any other day, but it ended in a nightmare of kissing Nancy Wheeler and getting drugged by Russian spies. Dustin and Erica had helped them escape, but Y/N was too delirious to be of much help. They sat them down in the movie theater, until Steve thought of the brilliant idea of leaving. Now, the three of them were puking their guts out in the Starcourt bathroom.

"The room stopped spinning for me, is it still spinning for you guys?" Robin asked in the other stall.

"Holy shit. No." Steve replied.

"All good over here sailor scout!" Y/N shouted from the last stall.

"Do you think we puked it all up?" She certainly hoped so, puking was never fun.

"One way to find out, hey Steve?" Y/N asked.

"Yea Miss. Henderson?" She chuckled at the nickname.

"Ask me a question, let's play honesty hour." Steve took a moment to think of something before he spoke.

"When was the last time you peed your pants?" Normally, Y/N would have been grossed out by the question, but she couldn't care less in that moment.

"I almost peed my pants today when I kissed Nancy, does that count?" The bathroom became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. She knew she should have been terrified by what she revealed, but the Russian truth serum's euphoria remained in her system. Robin slowly dragged herself over to the stall, her eyes wide with surprise. She knew the depth of what she had just revealed, and was afraid for her. Steve crawled underneath the stall wall to sit next to her by the toilet, a matching surprised look on his face.

"You kissed Nance?" Y/N couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth even if she wanted to, a bastardized confession inside the ceramic walls of the mall bathroom.

"Yea, I did. Her and Jonathan broke up and he accused her of being secretly in love with me. I was so psyched because duh, I've been in love with her since we were like 5, and so I kissed her like an idiot. Nancy didn't look as happy as I was, and I think I totally destroyed our friendship beyond repair. All because I fell in love with my best friend, who's a girl, a very pretty girl, but you know that Steve. You dated her. Also, I hated you a bit when you dated Nancy, but if it makes you feel better I hate Jonathan more. He sucks. He always had been, and always will be, somewhat of a menace to society. He took pictures of her half naked like a weirdo, and I wanted to punch him in the face. I still want to punch him in the face. I know he's like half way decent, but I still want to punch him in his very punchable face. All because he managed to snag Nancy Wheeler and I can't, because I was born a girl, who's gay, in fucking Indiana. It totally sucks. I wish I could have fallen in love with Robin, and I'm sorry Robs, but kissing Nancy was wayyyyyyyy better than kissing you. Not that you're a bad kisser! It was objectively a nice kiss, but it's because I only love you like a friend and I love Nancy in a I want to marry you and carry your children kind of way. I know that's impossible, and it makes me sad. I think we'd have cute babies. I'd hope they'd have curly hair and Nancy's nose, but my eyes and smile. But hey, I would even settle for her not telling the world I'm in love with her and completely destroying my life. Small miracles and all that jazz..." When Y/N stopped speaking, Robin thought it was a good idea to add her own word vomit confession too. She was such a good friend, and super fucking awesome for not leaving her alone with all of that.

"Do you guys remember what I said about Click's class? About me being jealous, and like, obsessed? It wasn't because I had a crush on Steve. It's because she wouldn't stop staring at him..."

"Mrs. Click?" Steve interrupted, but Robin smoothly continued.

"Tammy Thompson. I wanted her to look at me. But... she couldn't pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair. And I didn't understand, because Steve would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And he would ask dumb questions. And he was a douchebag. And- and you didn't even like her... and I would go home, and just scream into my pillow..."

"Oh..." Steve replied softly, "Holy shit"

"Holy shit" Robin and Y/N said at the same time. Steve took a moment to think, his eyes focused on the wall behind Y/N's head. Both girls waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say, the nerves finally sinking into them.

"I'm sorry I sort of stole both of the girls you guys liked. I get Nancy, Y/N, she's a total package. But Tammy Thompson? Seriously Robin? I mean, she's cute and all, but she's a total dud" Steve scoffed.

"She is not"

"Yea, she is. She wants to be, like, a singer. She wants to move to like, Nashville and shit" Y/N giggled to herself at the banter between Steve and Robin, instant relief flooding through her. Steve wasn't mad, or upset, or hateful. He was cracking jokes, just like he always did. She knew why Dustin adored him so much, and now she sort of adored him too. They were all laughing together, making fun of Tammy Thompson and her muppet voice, when Dustin and Erica busted into the bathroom.

"Okay. What the hell?"

They all tried to sneakily escape from the Russian spies, but it was no use. They were heavily armed and trained to dispose of them. The happy-go-lucky feeling was long gone, pure fear and anxiety replacing it. It was all of blur, one second they tried to sneak out the front doors of the mall, and the next they were all hiding behind one of the food court stands. That's when they heard the sound of a car crash, and looked up to see a young teenage girl Y/N didn't recognize and the rest of Dustin's friends. Then she noticed that Jonathan and Nancy where there. Her brother was overjoyed to see everyone, but she couldn't join him with the celebration. When she first made eye contact with Nancy, she couldn't discern the look on her face. It only made her panic more.

They all started talking about Russians and monsters, but Y/N was numb to it all. She was laser focused on Nancy, who was pointedly ignoring her again. Pure, unadulterated heartbreak devoured her soul. She went back to Jonathan, the kiss meant nothing, that had to be what had happened after she ran away. Y/N couldn't focus too much on her own feelings before the young girl, who she now knew as Eleven, collapsed onto the ground. That was the beginning of the end of Starcourt mall.

Y/N watched as the place she used to work caught aflame. The paramedics were attending to her wounds, but she was numb to all of it. She witnessed first hand of the monster that lived inside the Upside Down. It would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life. They all fought it with fireworks and flames, anything to help Eleven defeat it. It was pure chaos, and filled with death. Chief Hopper and Max's brother Billy perished at the hands of the Mind Flayer, the name of the monster Dustin had supplied earlier. Y/N hadn't spoken to Nancy throughout the fight, too preoccupied with the task at hand, but now all she could do was watch as Nancy and Jonathan spoke in the distance. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could feel her heart break more when she watched him hug her. The paramedic placed the last bandage on her and told her she was all set to go. Y/N jumped at the opportunity to run away, she couldn't stand seeing anymore of Jonathan Byers rekindling his flame with Nancy. She didn't get too far before she heard Nancy shout her name. Y/N kept walking, ignoring the siren's call, before she felt a firm grip on her arm.

"Don't run away from me again" Nancy reprimanded, her eyes lit up from the fire a short distance away. Y/N refused to speak, she had enough truth telling that night to last a lifetime. Nancy waited a moment, waiting for her to say something, before she sighed and let go of her arm. It took every ounce of Y/N's strength not to run away.

"I'm driving you home" It sounded like a command, and she knew better than to argue with her, so she nodded and made her way over to Nancy's car.

The girls drove in silence as they made their way through Hawkins. Y/N was barely paying attention to the road, too focused on calming herself down. A million and one thoughts ran through her head. Why was Nancy driving her home? Did she not hate her? Was she taking her to Lover's Lake to dump her body? That last one was far fetched, Nancy wasn't a murderer, but she did see her wield a gun like she was born too. Crazier things have happened. Y/N was lost in her own head, and didn't notice when Nancy parked the car. She finally looked up from her lap to take in her surroundings, they were in the parking lot of a playground. Y/N didn't know why Nancy had taken her there instead of her house, but she didn't think she was gonna kill her anymore. Burying a body at a park was a bad idea, and Nancy was too smart for that.

"Do you remember the day we met?" Nancy asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

"Yea... it was here..."

"We were 4 years old. I had fallen off the swings and hurt my knee. You ran up to me and asked if I was okay, and I could barely answer you because I was crying so hard," Nancy chuckled, a fond smile on her face, "You got down on your knees, the denim overalls cushioning the wood chips on the ground, and kissed both of my knees. You said your Mom did it whenever you had a boo boo, and that love makes the pain go away..." Y/N was shocked she remembered all of that, they were both so young. The memories were old and blurry, but they were still there in her mind, and they were apparently crystal clear in Nancy's.

"Yea... Why are you bringing this up?" Y/N wondered, unsure where Nancy was going with her line of questioning.

"I think it was then..." Nancy paused, taking a moment to catch her breath, "I think that's the moment I realized I was different. I went home to my Mom and Dad and told them I met Y/N Henderson on the playground with Grandma... I told them that you loved me and how I wanted to marry you..." The nausea in her stomach was replaced with butterflies, that feeling of hope rushing through her. What Nancy was telling her, it sounded all too close to a confession.

"My Dad immediately shot me down of course, said girls can't marry other girls, that it was wrong. My Mom just told him I was confused, that it was just how little girls are. My Dad was satisfied with that, and I was too. I mean, parents aren't supposed to lie to their kids right? I was just confused?" Nancy turned to face Y/N, her eyes focused and sure, "I lived by that for years. Every time I looked at you a little too long to be normal, I just wrote it off as that's just how girls are. That it was normal to love your best friend like that, but it's not isn't it?" Y/N shook her head, no it wasn't, there was nothing normal about it.

"I liked boys too, still do, and thought I was satisfied with that. I thought I was satisfied with Steve, satisfied with Jonathan, and I very well could have been... If I never met you" Nancy reached for Y/N's hand and squeezed it tight. She was shaking, but her face was strong and determined. She didn't realize how much she missed that look on her best friends face until that moment.

"I always compared the boys I dated to you, Jellybean, and none of them could compare. You're the one that makes me laugh, even when I'm about to cry. You know my favorite songs, and you know all of my dreams for the future, and you were the one who was there all along. I was confused for so long, until the moment you kissed me. It was like a lightbulb went off in my head. I realized that it was something we could do, that it was something I wanted. I'm sorry I made you wait so long for me to catch up to what you already knew, but now I know for sure..." Nancy leaned over towards Y/N's seat, inches away from her face, and spoke the words she's wanted to hear for over a decade, "I belong with you Y/N Henderson"

Nancy leaned in and kissed her. She kissed her like she was finally coming up from air after she was drowning for so long. She kissed her like she was something to savor, slow, soft, and sweet. Y/N could feel her toes curl, her body singing with every moment of her lips against Nancy's. They kissed each other in that old playground parking lot like they had all the time in the world.

It was pure bliss, like something out of a love long.

A song Y/N never wanted to stop listening too.