#it has taken me like four years to get to the point where i can *mostly* look in the AO3 tags for any given fandom i'm in

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

one reason i'm grateful a) to have been getting into treating my meta as An Art Form as much as fanfic/art/etc, and b) that there's an import function for that on AO3, is that i write very little prose these days, and Actually Having Substantial Things to Post helps me get past the stumbling block of 'well there's nothing much worth going to the trouble for anyway, is there' to the 'alright let's address all the other baggage that makes using AO3 so emotionally fraught for you bud' step (staircase.)

[matchingbatbites]

Steve proposes to Eddie during DND.

He's played about a dozen times since the Vecna ordeal three years ago, just one-off stories with no real consequences, and while it took him a little bit to get a feel for the game, he's finally reached a point where he doesn't feel totally out of place.

It helps that Eddie absolutely lights up every time Steve agrees to play, that his boyfriend tends to go a little easier on the rest of the table because they all help Steve half-fumble through the mechanics. It's worth it when Eddie beams at him for figuring something out first, for suggesting a dumb play that has the table screaming when it works.

It's the summer after the kids' senior year, and when Eddie offers to run an all-day one shot to celebrate their graduation, Steve instantly starts planning. He talks to Robin, who absolutely gushes over his idea, and along with Dustin they plan it all out.

He learns the premise of the one-shot from Eddie - there's a big bad who's been taking people from the kingdom, and the king is finally forced to do something when his own son, the prince, is also taken - and Dustin helps him make a character, a fighter who is the personal guard of the prince, whose goal is to find and bring him back safely.

Eddie seems pleased with the character when Steve explains it to him, even more so when Steve suggests the idea that they've fallen for each other and have been lovers in secret. "You're such a romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says before kissing him, and Steve knows it’s a tease and a compliment, knows that Eddie loves how soft he can get over things like that.

The game happens about two weeks later, and Eddie wasn’t joking when he called it an all-day affair.

They get started at about ten that morning, Steve and Eddie, their four boys, and Erica all crowded around the little dining table in Steve and Eddie's little apartment, with Robin, El, and Max entertaining themselves in the adjacent living room.

At Eddie’s insistence, they take a break every couple of hours so everyone can get up and stretch and use the toilet, with slightly longer breaks for lunch and dinner (sandwiches and pizza, respectively, both provided by Steve and Eddie).

The big bad is defeated at around nine that night, and everyone is elated as Eddie takes them through the aftermath, letting each player character have a short moment to reunite with their stolen friends and loved ones.

Robin and the girls have moved to sit on the nearby kitchen counter to listen, partly because El always enjoys these soft moments in the story, and partly because Robin knows what’s going to happen soon.

Steve stays quiet, letting the others have their moment as he fights down the sudden anxiety that sparks through him, knowing what he’s about to do. He looks up when Eddie says his name, takes a steadying breath, and asks "Do I see the prince?"

Eddie nods, says "You do."

"I go over to him."

"He sees you approaching and he rushes to you, meeting you halfway. As soon as you're close enough, he throws his arms around you and says 'I knew you would save me, darling.'"

Steve smiles. "I say, 'I always will, my love' and then I kiss him."

The teens hoot and holler a little as Eddie grins. "He kisses you back, and for a moment it's like everything else fades to the background. All that matters is him, back where he belongs, safe in your arms."

Steve nods, and before he loses his nerve asks "Can I do something?"

Eddie quirks a brow, curious. "Of course,” he says, and Steve takes a breath to steady himself.

"I take his hand, and then I drop to one knee."

A couple of the teens give little 'ooh's as Eddie looks at him, clearly a little surprised, and Steve continues before he can say anything.

"Three years ago, I took my place by your side as your personal guard. I swore to care for you, to protect you from anything that would want to hurt you, and somewhere along the way, we fell in love."

Steve swallows, knows he's blurring the line of character and person as he speaks, staring at Eddie across the table.

"The last three years have been everything to me. Any time I'm not with you, you're the only thing I can think about, and every day spent with you is a fucking gift, because I know just how close I came to losing you."

The sudden urge to touch Eddie becomes overwhelming and he stands, watches Eddie's shocked face as he rounds the table and drops to a knee in front of his lover. Eddie's eyes are wide and he gives a soft "Steve?" as Steve takes a slender hand in his own, remembers the words he had practiced over and over with Dustin.

"I don't want to be just a fighter anymore. I want to be a paladin, set on a righteous path, and if you'll let me, I want to make an Oath of Devotion. Not to any god or angel, but to you, the love of my life."

Steve pulls the ring from his pocket and offers it to Eddie. It's very much not traditional, and at first glance seems to be just another chunky ring that blends in with Eddie's current selection. But Steve had to get it, the shield molded onto the band and the new 'beloved' engraved on the inside repeating what Steve always says, I'll protect you, I love you.

Eddie is in tears as Steve stares him down, as he gently asks "Eddie Munson, will you marry me?"

For just a second, Eddie is completely still, save for his shaky breathing. Steve doesn't get scared, he knows that sometimes it takes Eddie a second to register things when he's overwhelmed. He waits it out, and after a few seconds Eddie blinks rapidly before jerking forward, dropping to his knees as he throws his arms around Steve. "Fuck yes! Of course I will!"

Cheers erupt through the room, and a flash goes off when they meet in a kiss. Eddie looks over to see Robin with a camera in her hand and tears streaming down her face. “Don’t mind me,” she says, a bit choked up even as she beams at them, and Eddie’s head whips back to Steve.

“You planned this!” he yells, unable to stop his own tears from falling, and Steve laughs. “Of course I did!” is his reply as he takes Eddie’s hand back so he can slide the ring onto it, and he ignores the second flash from where Robin sits.

“Wanted it to be perfect,” Steve says softly, stroking his thumb over the ring, now at its new home on Eddie’s finger. “Wanted you to know how much you mean to me, and I figured something nerdy would hit all the right buttons.”

“I helped with the nerd stuff!” Dustin calls from his seat, and Eddie laughs wetly as he scrubs at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I should have known something was up with you, Henderson. You’ve been bouncing off the walls for weeks.”

Steve stands up from the floor before helping Eddie up, and they both grunt as Dustin practically slams into them for a hug, quickly followed by a more reserved El. They hug each of the kids in turn and accept their congratulations, and after a few minutes Eddie is put together enough to actually finish out the one-shot.

Later that night as they're getting ready for bed, Eddie presses up behind Steve, one hand sliding to rest on his stomach and the other opening in front of them, revealing a simple, gold band.

"You beat me to it, you dick," he says with so much tenderness, and Steve laughs as he takes the ring.

"You can still do your proposal, if you want," Steve replies, heart swelling as he looks over the band, sees the little 'sweetheart' engraved on the inside.

"Nah, there's no way I can top what you did for me."

"I dunno, you normally top me pretty well," Steve teases, just to hear Eddie's delighted little cackle.

He turns and hands the ring back to Eddie, asks "Put it on me?" and Eddie smiles. He takes the ring and slides it onto Steve's finger, his thumb brushing over shiny metal, and Steve feels so fucking happy as they meet in the middle for a kiss.

[haztory]

['sex' by the 1975]

⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)

“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.

“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.

“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”

the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed. 

“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.

atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”

“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”

“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”

”some people take a minute to figure it out.”

”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”

“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room. 

his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities. 

its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment. 

its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have. 

there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does. 

there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.

atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort. 

its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years. 

pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.

right. 

“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.” 

“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”

“you’re being mean.” you tell him. 

atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”

“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“

“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”

“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you. 

you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard. 

(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.

[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.

[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.

[9:20] you were our biggest argument. 

[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.

[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip

there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.

you don’t tell atsumu about it.)

“alright. sit up then.”

his voice startles you. “what?” 

suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.

your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.

it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.

“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”

its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.

“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod. 

lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw. 

his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale. 

his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away. 

“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.

“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.

it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.

“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips. 

“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”

“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”

“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”

“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend. 

and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should. 

“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”

“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”

“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet. 

satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear.  “does he touch ya like this?” 

the gasp you release is guttural.

the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.  

his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.” 

its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”

its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.

“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.

“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words. 

and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.

you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.

“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room. 

his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise. 

a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in. 

“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension. 

“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”

he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.

there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off. 

but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight. 

there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.

your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.

osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth. 

but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to. 

he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.

you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.

“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”

a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!

[watchmegetobsessed]

TOO FAR

A/N: some clingy soon-to-be-dad!harry content, i really vibed with this idea

WORD COUNT: 1k

SUMMARY: Harry has been extremely clingy since you've found out you were pregnant and this morning is no exception either.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You’re used to waking up to your boyfriend wrapped around you in bed in the morning, Harry is definitely a clingy sleeper and a big fan of spooning, but ever since you’ve found out that you’re pregnant, he’s taken it to the next level for sure.

It’s a sunny morning in Munich, warmth is flowing into the hotel room through the sheer curtains as you wake from your slumber and slowly process your surroundings. You’re lying on your side, a heavily tattooed arm is stretched out under your head while his other arm is draped across your waist, his big hand flattened out on your stomach, gently moving up and down underneath your night shirt.

Your bump is barely showing at this point, you’re only nearing the end of the fourth month, most of the time you look like you’re just extremely bloated, it’s been an ongoing joke between you, Harry, Sarah an Mitch, the only people on tour who know that you’re pregnant. You’ve been living in oversized hoodies and baggy clothes the past two months, trying to hide your tummy for as long as possible, but it’s getting hard since you’re travelling with Harry across Europe so your every step is being watched most of the time. The only place where you don’t have to be careful is in the safety of your hotel room.

Harry’s arm under your head curls around your shoulders as he pulls you tighter against his front when he realizes you’re up and you gladly melt into his embrace as he kisses the side of your head.

“Good morning, Love,” he greets you with that groggy, sexy voice you love so much. It’s probably one of the reasons you got knocked up, it’s hard to resist morning sex when he sounds like that and his looks just add more to it even. A few words and a wandering look at his messy, morning hair and the next thing you know is that his cock is inside you.

Not that you ever complained.

“Hi,” you smile, twisting your neck so you can look at him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

Your morning sickness finally stopped after the third month, but Harry has been still watching out for you in case you’re triggered again. Luckily, you haven’t started a morning with running to the bathroom in a while.

You feel both of his hands wander to your stomach, spreading his hands out over it as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. His legs are tangled with yours under the sheets and you feel like he is wrapped around you entirely, there’s no inch of your body he is not touching.

“Wanna stay like this all day,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against your ear.

“You have a show to give, can’t cancel on that,” you chuckle softly as you reach behind and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Don’t want to let go of you,” he whines like a kid.

“You’ll have to.”

“No. Come on stage with me.”

“How would you move around with me there? I can’t move along with you, I don’t have the energy,” you laugh and start wiggling around in his arms until you’re facing him, his arms remain locked around you.

“I’ll just stand for the whole show. With you in my arms.”

You just smile, finding his clinginess cute. A tiny part of you was afraid he wouldn’t take the news well, you didn’t plan this pregnancy even though you’ve been together for almost four years now. But it’s been kind of the opposite, he was obsessed with you before, but now that you’re carrying his baby, he has taken it up a few notches for sure. He’s always touching you, holding your hand or hugging you, he does everything for you and makes sure all your needs are met as fast as possible. He tells you he loves you probably a million times a day and wants to spend all his time with you.

Again, you’re not complaining.

“I’ll be waiting for you at the back as always,” you softly hum, brushing your nose against his before kissing him.

“That’s too far,” he mumbles against your lips, his arms tightening around you.

“It’s as close as I can get while you’re on stage.”

“Too.” Kiss. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Far.” Kiss.

“That’s too bad,” you giggle, but he is still kissing you, anywhere he can reach, on your cheeks, nose and chin. “You don’t really have a choice.”

“Mmm, just wanna be close to you. Both of you.”

“I’ll be right there when you run off the stage. We both will be. She comes to everywhere with me and I will be there,” you add with a chuckle, nodding down at your tummy.

“She? You still think it’s a girl?” he grins at you, that familiar twinkle in his eyes flashing again. You saw it when you told him you’re pregnant, when you had your first ultrasound and the first time he realized your bump was finally showing. You wish you could take a picture of it, but no photo can give back reality.

“Yeah,” you nod with a tiny smile. You’re gonna be in Scotland when the time comes for you to find out the gender, you already have an appointment reserved so by the time he steps on the stage for his second show in Edinburgh he’ll know for sure if it’s a boy or a girl.

He is staring at you like he is looking at the meaning of his life, like everything he ever wanted was right in front of him. Taking a deep breath he leans closer and kisses you softly.

“I love you,” you whispers against your lips.

“I love you too,” you smile into the kiss.

“Are you sure you can’t come on stage with me?”

You laugh, your head rolling back into the pillow.

“Yes, I’m one hundred percent sure. But when you’re done, I’m all yours.”

“Okay, then just give me a little more time,” he sighs, burying his face in your neck, but just moments later you have to break the peace.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“I really need to pee though.”

“Okay.”

A few moments of silence.

“You want to come with me to the bathroom too, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[stone-stars]

happy 6 years of naddpod everyone <3 (alt title: the dragon pussy podcast making me cry for 6 minutes straight)

Transcript:

Mee Maw: That's true, but… there's also somethin' else. Murph: And you see she pushes her cloak to the side, and you see she has black scabs-- Caldwell and Jake: Oh, no! No no no! Moonshine: Oh, Melora! Murph: --and deep crick rot all over her chest and neck.

Marabelle, weakly: Jolene? I-- I didn't realize I was gonna get to-- say I was sorry. Moonshine (pretending to be Jolene): Thank you, of-- of course you're forgiven! I love you so much! You're my big sister!

Melora: You're not cursed. You were born like this.

Hardwon: (desperately) Gemma? Gemma? Gemma wake up. Gemma baby. Hey. Murph: You see she's-- she's-- she's cold and dead. Hardwon: Fuck!

Balnor: I couldn't help them. I can barely swing a sword. Alanis: There's a war coming, and everyone needs to fight. Even old men who don't know how.

Beverly, crying: No, he's-- he's my light. He's my Pelor! He always was! I strayed!

Bev Sr: You tell her the truth, Bev. You tell your mom that I died in the Feywild. Beverly: (crying) You know I'm bad at lying. Bev Sr: It's not a lie, Bev.

Deadeye: Yeah, I know I'm down a hand. And an eye. And a life. But I got a soul, and a family. And I finally know which is worth more.

Deadeye: I hate to think about what woulda happened to me, but maybe more I hate to think about who I still would've been if I had never met you.

Rosa: JV, I can't-- I can't find my lantern. JV: Aw, well look at that? There's a lantern right here. Rosa: Are you sure that's mine? JV: Yeah. Yeah, I'll-- I-- I'm gonna go look for mine.

Hardwon: --interpretation. I-- I-- Moonshine: Hardwon, I really don't want you to want to die, because I want you to live so much and I don't want to be alone in that feeling.

Lydia: Elias, is that you? Hardwon: It's uh-- It's still little Elias. You saved the child, ma.

Lydia: I don't know what I've been these past few years, I don't know what I've been these past few decades. But I want you to know that when I was your mother that... you were wanted.

Murph: Somebody who felt they could never have a child… um, is holding their child. Moonshine: I-- I didn't want to need you, dad, but… now that you're here… it-- it's kinda nice.

Murph: Your father has given you... a strategy guide on how to beat him. Caldwell: I have to look away so that the tears don't ruin the pages.

Beverly: (tearful) I don't want to go. I don't want to go. But I have to. It's my duty. I have to do this. Moonshine: Okay, youngin, I want you to know. I will love you whatever you choose to do. But, here's my two cents: A child has a duty to his father, but a hero has a duty to the world. Now, I've got my opinion of which you are. But it's time for you to decide.

Bev Sr: Thanks, Bev. I always-- I knew I could make the deal, because I knew you'd stop me.

Moonshine: (tearful) I-- I've been wanting to tell you about this for so long, and I just didn't get a chance to. And I don't know if I will, so I just wanted to make sure I told you.

Moonshine, crying harder as she goes on: Paw Paw. You are… You are my best friend. And you are the best part of me. (sobs) And I am so grateful. For-- (sobs) the fact that so much of our lives have been braided together. But… where I'm going, next-- after we beat Thiala, which we will-- you can't come, mmkay? So I just need to make sure that you are taken care of, and I need to make sure that you take care of some people, okay?

Pendergreens: This time, you picked me up. And you were nice to me for no reason.

Pendergreens: If when you come back... if I'm different? Moonshine: Mhm? Pendergreens: Just, remember me as I am now. 'Cause I like who I am when I'm around you.

Death: I will take everything from you-- Hardwon: Quit pointing at people! Death: --until you come with me. Hardwon: Ok-- I'll go! I'll go. Beverly: Hardwon, no! Hardwon: Bring her back, and I'll come. Bring her back.

Lydia: All my life, people told me what I had to be. You don't have to be anything other than what you are.

Lydia: I think you should talk to your friends. Not because you owe them an explanation, but because you deserve to be heard.

Melora: Beverly. Beverly: Yes? Melora: I wish you could grow up in a normal world, but the Gods have not blessed you with a normal life. You are… afflicted with duty. Things thrust upon you far beyond your years.

Melora: The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor, what an injustice.

Moonshine: How long do Half-Elves live? Mee Maw: You talkin' bout Hardwon? Moonshine: I mean-- It's on my mind.

Moonshine: I guess, if I'm being honest, I don't know what it's gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. (tearful) And there's a part of me that doesn't want to find out what that feels like.

Moonshine: There is something sour I probably need to swallow, though. It is-- There's people you meet that are once in a timeless body lifetime kinda people, right? Mee Maw: Oh, yeah. Moonshine: Okay. Mee Maw: And you keep 'em with ya. Moonshine: Okay.

Moonshine: (crying) It's okay, Balnor. Like all the most powerful things in this world, I knew I was only borrowing you.

Hardwon: Moonshine, when-- When I left Irondeep, I-- I didn't know where I fit in. And then I met you, and you didn't just let me in. You brought me in, and you thought I was good.

Balnor: I hope that you all get to leave this world with the same comfort that I had: knowing that it's in good hands. I love you. Murph: "Your knight, Balnor."

[kitixie]

The Sapphire Ring

request: Hi! If your requests are open, I’d like to ask for a Thomas Shelby x Reader. Tommy gets injured in WW1 at some point and is taken care of the same nurse (reader) at the battlefield medic hospital. She has something distinct about her (I was thinking maybe some unique piece of jewelry so it could apply to anyone). He always remembered the nurse for helping him and the reader always remembered him as a patient she saved after losing a lot of her patients. And then years later they reconnect in Birmingham (he recognizes her jewelry first). Just helping eachother through hardship and fluff and reconnection leading to romance. You’re the best, can’t wait to see what you do with it! Thanks!

word count: 2.5k

warnings/info: no warnings for this, just sweetness and a happy ending :) also, i promise i am working on the next part of “Little Girl Gone”, so be on the lookout for that this weekend!! i had so much fun doing this request, i’d love to do more so if you have any requests, please let me know! enjoy!!

1916, in the midst of World War 1.

“Y/N, there’s a patient down the hall, he’s just out of surgery. Would you check on him, Love?”

You turned to face MaryAnn, the lead nurse tonight. Her curly brown hair framed her face a shoulders, her soft smile aimed at you.

“Of course, MaryAnn,” you said, returning her small smile.

Making your way down the hall, you ducked your head in. Most of these patients you’d already seen, so spotting a new face shouldn’t be hard. Especially if he was fresh from surgery, his moaning and grumbling would probably be heard before he was seen.

You had been working at the hospital for two years, you had only started working here because of the war. Your brother had gone off to fight, leaving you and your father home alone together. Your mother had passed away two years before that, leaving you only her cherished sapphire ring. The piece of jewelry was the only luxury your mother had ever had, growing up in a small town on the banks of Dundalk. It was a large sapphire in the center, flanked on four sides by sparking, clear diamonds. You wore the ring at all times, not much worrying if it would get messed up, as the hospital had paid you nicely, and you’d saved up a small pile just in case something happened to it. You loved the ring almost as much as your mother did, feeling as if it was your only connection left to her. You peered at the ring on your finger, continuing on your search for the mystery patient.

A few doors farther down, a loud bang came from one of the patient rooms. You rushed to the door, only to see a man standing up, and a rolling metal tray lying on the floor. You watched him for a moment, just to see what his next moves were. You observed his pale skin, almost blue tinged; then his dark hair. His head was shaved around the bottom, leaving a messy patch on the top half of his head. He looked to the tray, then to the bed, then to the window on the other side of the room. He leant over to retrieve something off the floor, when he cursed.

“Sir, are you okay?” You called, stepping into the room slowly so as not to frighten him.

He slowly turned towards you, and only when he was fully facing you did you see the bloody bandage dangling from his shoulder.

“I could use a bit of help, I suppose,” he grumbled, staring at you.

You slowly approached him, letting him see that your hands were clear. He was young, a few years visibly older than you, but young enough to justify that the only reason he was in here was because of the war.

“I’m not delusional, I know where I am. So you can stop easing towards me like I’m shell-shocked, aye?” He said, an accent coming out from somewhere.

“You can never be too cautious, ya know,” you stated, straightening your posture back up to full height, and walking normally paced towards him.

You removed his own hand from his bloodied shoulder, and nodded towards the bed. He followed orders, and sat down, rolling his head to the side so you could get a better look.

“I’m Tommy,” he offered, blowing out a deep breath.

“Y/N,” you said, focusing your attention on his now leaking stitches.

You could feel as he watched you, those blue eyes tracking your every movement precisely. He had indeed pulled out his stitches, but it was nothing you couldn’t fix.

“Ya pulled your stitches, so I hope whatever you were trying to do was worth it,” You laughed, casting him a gentle glance so he’d see the joke in your eyes.

“I was trying to get a smoke, so I’d say it was worth it.”

“You want a smoke? I’m about to restitch your shoulder, so ‘ats the least I could let ya do,” you smiled, picking up his discarded pack of cigarettes from the floor, also handing him his pack of matches.

He returned the smile, immediately struck up a match, sending the smell of smoke and tobacco throughout the room. You gently closed the door, not wanting to disturb the other patients with the smell. Walking back over to Tommy, you held a small suture kit in your hands.

“This is gonna hurt, so be ready,” you breathed, not wanting him to lash out at the pain.

“I’ll be fine, Love. But talk to me, will you? Helps distract me,” he said, exhaling a long stream of smoke from his mouth and nostrils.

“Okay,” you agreed. Readying the needle and thread you began speaking right before running the small metal piece through his skin.

“I’m from Ireland, born and raised. Although I used to live in Dundalk, now here we are in Dublin. My brother is fighting in the war, at least I assume he’s still fighting, hasn’t come home alive or in a box yet,” you joked, but feeling a slight twinge of pain in your heart. You continued, “I work ‘ere every night, I like nightshift best because it’s when the least amount of people actually come into the hospital. I don’t really handle losing patients well, but that’s another story,” you sighed, nearly done with the first few stitches.

Tommy nodded his head, releasing another puff of smoke before speaking.

“I’m from Birmingham, it’s not really a place worth talking about though. I fought in the war, ‘ts how I ended up here, but you’ve gathered that much. I’ve got a couple siblings, some still at war, some not, but they’re my only family.” he said, going back to his cigarette.

“I have the one brother, and my father. My mother died a few years ago, but it’s part of my past life now.” You spoke, finishing up the last few stitches. He hasn’t flinched the entire time.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Love. But every sorrier to say I can relate.” Tommy said, gently turing his shoulders towards you now that you were done putting him back together.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry for your loss too, it never really gets better, just more dull,” you remarked, cleaning up the kit from the small rolling tray you had placed it on.

You took notice of Tommy’s staring, following his eyes as the flicked over you, assessing every detail. His eyes caught on your ring, and he cocked his head.

“That’s a lovely ring, Mrs. Y/N,” he said, drawing out the Missus.

“It’s just Miss, and thank you,” you laughed, “it was my mothers.” You gave him a soft smile, looking toward the ring on your middle finger.

You helped Tommy settle back into his small bed, then bid him goodnight with the promise to check on him tomorrow.

-

The next evening, you barely had time to check in before MaryAnn was hounding you about Tommy. He had been refusing care all day, saying that you were the only person he’d allow to check his stitching. The other nurses had tried to reason with, tried to explain that you wouldn’t be here until 10 pm, but he would not listen. He wanted your care, and only your care. You promised MaryAnn you would handle it, and went off on your way to his room. You rapped your hand against the door, slightly cracking it open.

“Tommy?” You called out, not wanting to startle him.

“Oi, finally. I’ve been asking for you all day, where have you been, Y/N?” He said, slowly sitting himself up in the cot.

“I told you Tommy, I work nightshift. It doesn’t switch over until 10,” you laughed, “although I am flattered that you refused all care other than mine.”

“Of course I would, you have the best bedside manner of all the nurses.” taking a drag from the cigarette you hadn’t noticed earlier, “Plus you’re beautiful,” he added.

Your cheeks flushed, and you brought a hand to chest, resting it over your heart.

“Flattery rarely works on nurses, Tommy. Now let’s get those stitches checked.” You smiled, your cheeks hurting from how genuine it was.

After checking his stitches, you gave him the all clear and told him he should be released in a few days, and you swore a frown flashed across his face before straightening back out. You bid him goodnight, with the promise to see him tomorrow night.

For a week straight, this little routine carried on. You’d come see him as soon as you arrived at work, check his stitches, then the two of you would just talk. You talked with him about varying subjects, both of your families, home life (although Tommy didn’t give much away here), and your hopes for the future. You told him of your plans to travel after the war ended, and he told you how he never wanted to travel again. You would compare families, your brother palling in comparison to the array of Shelby boys that Tommy had described to you. Every night, the two of you would talk, some conversations were short, some lasted so long that MaryAnn had to come pull you from his room so that you would round on your other patients. You developed a sense of kinship with Tommy, although the two of you were admittedly very different. You got excited to go to work, marking events in your day that you were excited to tell Tommy about. You thought of him outside of the hospital, more than you should. But how could anyone resist the charms of Tommy Shelby?

On Friday night, you arrived to the hospital. You checked in, and began rounding on your patients, saving Tommy for when you had a bit of free time; you had a lot you wanted to tell him. You eventually found your way to his room, softly knocking on the door.

“Tommy?” You called, easing through the doorway.

Tommy was sitting up in his cot, stitches almost healed enough to go home. You had come to dread the day he would leave, he felt like a friend, maybe more.

“Y/N, Love, I thought you had forgotten me.” He said, adding his signature Tommy Shelby smirk to the end.

“I could never forget you, Tommy,” you blushed, “Now, let me check up on those stitches.”

He nodded his head, tipping it to the side so that you could access his shoulder better.

“How’s Georgia?” He asked. Georgia was an elderly lady who lived in your apartments, you had told Tommy about how she loved to bake for you.

“She’s good, she brought me meat pies earlier today,” you said, giving a soft smile, “These stitches look healed Tommy, I think you can go home soon.”

Tommy grew a distant look in his eye, gazing to the floor.

“I don’t really want to go, if I’m honest.” He said, pulling you from similar thoughts.

“I know Tommy, but your family probably misses you, I know I would be.” You replied, trying to coax him with a soft rub of his shoulder.

He placed his hand gently over yours, his massive hand covering the ring.

“You would be or you will be?” He said, cheekily flashing you a smile.

“I will miss you, Tommy. You have been a joy to take care of, and a good friend to talk to.” You could feel tears wanting to come from your eyes, but ever the professional, you held them back.

He gave a soft smile, placing a gentle kiss to your hand.

“If you ever find yourself in Birmingham, come find me. I’ll be at The Garrison, waiting for you.”

Tommy had mentioned The Garrison a few times, noting how it was his family’s favorite bar and pub, and how they spent most evenings there. You gave him a soft nod, and retracted your hand.

“Goodnight, and, goodbye, Thomas.” You smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before you exited his room.

-

1921, five years later

You found yourself staring, craning your neck up to the sign in front of you. A hundred questionable decisions had led you here, to Birmingham.

The first decision, was getting married. The second, was getting divorced. Your husband had been a prick, and you knew it when you married him but he was handsome, and certainly you could have done worse.

The third decision was traveling. You had been all over the world, but you had avoided Birmingham like it had the plague. After Tommy was discharged, you quit the hospital. Every time you would walk by his former room, tears would well in your eyes and breath would catch in your throat. You hadn’t realized how accustomed to Him you had become, not until he’d left.

But now, five years after last seeing each other, you stood in front of the doors to The Garrison.

Pushing into the pub, holding the leash on your fear and anxiety, you approached the bar. An unpleasant bar keep took your order, appearing surprised at the order of Irish Whiskey for a young lady. You got your drink, and waited. Waited to see if what Tommy had said still rang true. Had he been waiting for you?

You heard a knock, coming from the window that peered into the back room of the pub. The bar keep opened it, and you nearly fainted. There, ten feet away, stood Mr. Thomas Shelby.

You stared at him, mouth hanging open like a fool. He had only gotten more handsome, a peaky cap now sitting atop his head, which looked much better now that he had some color and a fresh haircut. He was dressed in a fine suit, looking polished and refined, like a real man, not just a patient in the hospital. His eyes caught yours for a single second, and a look of recognition flashed across his face before vanishing. The window closed, and your heart sank. He didn’t remember you, or worse, he didn’t want you here.

You stood from your barstool, slapping a bill on the bar. Your ring, that same ring Tommy had stared at and asked a hundred questions about, still sat on your middle finger. The metal slapped against the bar, and you could only look towards the floor on your way out.

A warm, pale hand snatched your arm from your side, cradling that soft hand that held the ring.

“Y/N?”

You whirled around, face to face with Tommy. He had remembered you! You wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him in a tight hug. He returned the gesture, wrapping his long arms around you and lifting you from the floor. Your head tucked into the crook of his neck, inhaling the tobacco scent you had always associated with Tommy. He gently placed your feet back on the floor before speaking.

“I never thought you’d come,” he breathed, a grin on his face, “but I am so glad that you did, Love.” He said, just before leaning in and placing a hard, passionate kiss to your mouth.

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of Six of Meddling ;). Part One. Part Two. AO3 Link.

Nancy drives the four of them to whatever mystery location as Steve has a minor freak out in the backseat because it’s finally hitting him that he kissed Eddie. And Eddie kissed him back. And that’s not something he wants to just breeze over and pretend never happened.  

How will things ever be the same after this?  

Steve runs a hand through his hair as reality hits a little too hard.  

“You okay?” Eddie whispers as his hand moves to rest on Steve’s knee.  

Steve glances down at the hand and squeezes it once before he replies, “Yeah.” But he knows his smile is a little too forced based on the way Eddie’s staring back at him with concern.  

The car slows to a halt.  

“We’re here!”  

Steve glances out the window, and it suddenly hits him. They’ve taken them to the bar where they first met.  

“Throwback,” Eddie breathes out.  

It had been a while since they had been back there. Things had changed over the past three years, and they had found a new bar with better acoustics for Eddie to play at when he isn’t hogging the small stage at the café where he works.  

Still, sometimes Steve misses the place where some of his best memories had formed.  

Once they get inside, nostalgia hits Steve in a way that’s almost bittersweet. Eddie must be feeling the same way based on the low whistle he lets out next to him as they look around. Nothing has really changed since they were last here.  

“We’re going to grab a table away from you guys but remember to take pictures and just text whenever you want to head out. But this is our lunch plan so eat up,” Robin says with a big smile before grabbing Nancy’s hand and pulling her to a far corner spot.  

“I’m kind of relieved that they’re not sitting with us,” Eddie admits as he and Steve walk to the opposite part of the somewhat dead bar. “Can’t wait to get that camera out of my face. I just hope they don’t try to sneak pictures of us while we’re eating.”  

Steve snorts. That sounds exactly like something Robin would do, so he does his best to find a booth where he can’t see the girls and vice versa. He eventually points at one and sits across from Eddie, and the sight of him thoroughly distracts him from any thoughts about Nancy or Robin.  

Eddie pulls out his phone and sets it down on the table. He taps on it once and asks, “What if we only did a cheesy picture of each other before we eat, with our food, and a quick selfie after we finish? Then we can just live in the moment and enjoy this.”  

Steve sticks out his hand for Eddie to shake. “Deal.”  

Eddie grabs his hand and presses a quick kiss against the back of it. “Deal,” he agrees with a wink.  

A blush starts to creep up on Steve’s face, so he ducks his head and grabs his phone – but he knows he’s not being subtle about trying to hide his face. As a new means of distraction, he hits the camera icon and quickly snaps a picture of Eddie without warning. “Pre-date picture done.” Oh, why did he have to call it a date?  

Eddie luckily brushes off his little blunder and scoffs, “No, you have to redo that. You gave me no warning!”  

Steve just laughs as Eddie pouts. Next thing he knows, Eddie’s phone is coming up and snapping a picture of him. Steve freezes. “Hey, that’s unfair.”  

Eddie snorts and presses on the picture. He frowns at it before turning his phone around. “Why do you always have to be so photogenic?”  

The picture is... very telling of everything Steve is feeling. He can practically see the joy and love radiating off himself in a way he hasn’t seen before. It’s terrifying.  

Eddie turns the phone back and clicks around a few times before proudly smiling and turning his phone off.  

“What?” Steve asks suspiciously.  

“Oh, nothing. But could you check the time on my phone?” Eddie asks, sliding it over.  

It’s a weird request, but Steve goes through with it, tapping on the screen. “It’s...” he trails off before he sees the time.  

His smiling face stares back at him as it covers the lock screen on Eddie’s phone. He glances up at Eddie who watches him somewhat anticipatorily. Steve doesn’t say anything, but he unlocks his own phone and immediately changes his lock screen to the picture he took of Eddie.  

It’s cuter than Steve thought it would be considering that he took Eddie off guard. He isn’t looking at the camera. Instead, he’s smiling softly at Steve with his dimples on full display. The only thing wrong with it is that it’s a little bit blurry, but he thinks it adds to Eddie’s general vibe.  

It’s the perfect lock screen really although he thinks Robin and Dustin might kill him for kicking them off it.  

It’s worth it.  

As Steve slides his phone to Eddie, a waiter comes by and introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Tony, I’ll be your waiter today. And the ladies over in the corner told me you two were celebrating an anniversary today?”  

Oh, no. Even from a distance, the two are meddling as much as they can. Steve is about to say no when Eddie replies, “Yes, it’s been three years since we first met in this very bar, and two years since we started dating.” He leans in toward the waiter all conspiratorially and stage whispers, “Give it a year, and I’ll probably be back to propose to him right here.”  

Steve chokes on his saliva.  

“Sorry, babe, did I say that too loud?” Eddie asks with a big smile. He turns back to the waiter. “He’s always telling me that I don’t know how to whisper.”  

It’s true, but Steve can’t say very much as he keeps coughing.  

“We’ll get two waters please,” Eddie says, starting to sound a bit concerned.  

The waiter must be too because before Steve knows it, a glass of water is being placed in front of him and he’s chugging it down. Gosh, he wishes this were a beer.  

Eventually, the coughing dies down, and Steve shoots an apologetic look at the waiter. He just smiles back and politely asks, “Do you know what you want to order?”  

Steve shakes his head and swipes the water off his mouth. “Haven’t looked at the menu yet, we were too busy... reminiscing.” Since when is he playing along with the lie?  

“No worries. You two take your time and happy anniversary.” The waiter quickly dismisses himself, and Steve is left to stare at Eddie.  

“Why would you do that?”  

Eddie throws his hands up. “One, this is great practice for faking a relationship, lets us establish some backstory. And most importantly, two, celebrating an anniversary means a free dessert.”  

“We’re at a bar, not a Chili’s.”  

“There’s still the potential!” Eddie argues back. “Please, Steve, my love, my sweetheart, my muffin-”  

“Please never call me your muffin ever again,” Steve says, cringing.  

Eddie sighs but then a mischievous grin slowly appears on his face. This can’t be good. “I promise not to call you that if you pretend to be my boyfriend of two years during this lunch.”  

The payoff is quite great, but he can’t let Eddie know that, So, Steve takes his time rolling his eyes and pretending to weigh the pros and cons of it all while Eddie shakes the table with how hard he’s bouncing his leg.  

Steve reaches under the table and grabs his knee to still it. “You have yet another deal. But you have to stop shaking the table, too.”  

“Sorry,” Eddie apologizes bashfully. He quickly moves on when he realizes Steve’s phone is still on the table and taps on the screen. He smiles at it and pushes the phone back. “Not as bad as I thought.”  

“Not bad? It’s perfect,” Steve scoffs as he grabs one of the menus at the end of the table.  

He doesn’t get a response, but Eddie is smiling at his menu when Steve glances up.  

Eventually, they put in their food order and chat about random things just to catch up a bit although Steve talks to Eddie every day – usually in person but occasionally over text.  

Then, Eddie randomly throws out the question, “So, are you seeing anyone?”  

Steve swallows hard and shakes his head. “No, are you?”  

“No,” Eddie replies.  

Steve tries and fails to hide a smile. They both know if they started dating someone the other would be one of the first to know, but it’s cute that Eddie asked.  

Their food comes out, and their conversation halts for a bit while they eat. But the relationship conversation plays over and over again in Steve’s head until Eddie interrupts his thoughts. “Man, I can’t believe it’s only been three years since I met you.”  

Steve laughs and finishes chewing his fry. “It feels like I’ve known you longer.”  

“Technically you have, if you count all the times Dustin mentioned my name before we met.”  

“Could’ve met sooner if I hadn’t been so afraid that you would be a weird nerd,” Steve teases him.  

“Hey, you know I’m both of those things, so don’t say it like it’s an insult,” Eddie says with a smile.  

“Well, I didn’t think those two things could be hot together, so excuse me for assuming,” Steve replies while shoving a fry into his mouth.  

Eddie leans forward. “You think I’m hot?” he asks as if he’s teasing him, but Steve can hear a bit of the uncertainty in his tone, so instead of shaming himself for admitting it he shrugs.  

“Always have.”  

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds before he clears his throat and changes the subject, “You should’ve worn the yellow sweater.”  

The comment startles a laugh out of Steve. “Of course you would bring that up. I’ve never understood your obsession with the thing.”  

“Well, there’s a reason I brought it up now.”  

“Oh really,” Steve says raising his eyebrows, not ready for whatever line Eddie has prepared. “And why’s that?”  

“It’s what you were wearing when we first met,” Eddie says as if it’s nothing.  

It takes Steve entirely off guard. His stomach does a little flip. “You remember what I was wearing after all this time?”  

“Yeah,” Eddie says but quickly moves on to ask, “Speaking of that night, what happened to that girl you were with?” He looks away as he asks the question, taking one of Steve’s fries but still not looking him in the eye as he eats it.  

Steve tries to shake off the little piece of information Eddie just gave up as thinks back. He shrugs. “Nothing happened there. I was actually on a date with her that night. She left after we met. Told me I should go out with you instead since I hadn’t paid her any attention since the moment I laid eyes on you.”  

Eddie glances back up at him, holding so much intensity in his gaze. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”  

“Because I didn’t think I had a chance and didn’t want to risk getting my heart broken.”  

Eddie stares at him, and Steve thinks that they both feel it. All the time they lost that they could’ve potentially spent together if Steve would’ve said something three years ago. But maybe Eddie is thinking something entirely different.  

“Steve-”  

“Hi, I hope everything is tasting alright. Also, I have a dessert on the house for you two. Happy anniversary, and I hope to see you two next year,” the waiter says as he slides the check on the table. Steve swears that he has the same bad timing as Robin and glares at the man as he turns his back.  

“Steve-” Eddie tries again, but then, speak of the devil, Robin is suddenly scooting into the booth next to him and making grabby hands at the dessert.  

“I love free dessert,” she says. “Thanks for going through with it. I thought it would be good practice.” It’s a clear lie based on the way she’s staring at the chocolate cake.  

Nancy gives Steve an apologetic smile as Robin steals his spoon and digs in.  

Steve shoots Eddie a look trying to convey, we’ll talk later.  

He gets a sad smile in response, then they both pick up their forks and take a bite of the cake. Steve can barely enjoy it as he knows that the fate of his and Eddie’s relationship might rely on their next conversation. But Nancy and Robin also won’t leave them alone.  

This is not good.  

Part Four

Tag List :

@henderdads @little-gae-shit @dreamingtheimpossibe @leethegay @lazyavenuewhispers @olibxr @thegayestpersonever @heartsforhawke @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @evillitteguy @miss-hit @infrogulous @romanticdestruction @liz5100 @evix-syne666 @bebe07011 @corrodedseraphine @meganwinchester @manda-panda-monium

[usedpidemo]

Anywhere but home (Red Velvet Seulgi)

“So can you tell me why you decided to stop by here, out of all places?” you ask, intently gazing at your uninvited guest. 

The thing is, you’re also an uninvited guest. 

You’re inside a hotel room, not your home.

The woman leans back on her chair, smiling radiantly, mirroring that same deep stare back. She takes a moment to ponder through her answer, let her eyes linger on you a little longer. 

“I missed you.”

“Do your members even know of your wheareabouts?” you say, worried. She should be anywhere else but here.

She strongly shakes her head, waves it off as a non-concern. “No, but you shouldn’t worry about them at all.”

“So they—”

“They’re too busy having fun by themselves.” Kang Seulgi has this dour expression on her lips, as if you’re asking beyond what you’re supposed to. “Again, you shouldn’t worry about any of them.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t caught on about our secret—yet.”

Seulgi chuckles, running through fond memories in her head. “I keep my promises, remember? And you haven’t.”

It’s not easy to defend your case to Seulgi, even if the reasons are justified. Back then, you were both young and reckless, and based on how she acts and sounds now, she still is. Of course you still remember the promise you made, much clearer now that she’s suddenly back in your life again than when you first spoke about them years ago. Life really finds a way to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain, pursuing you even as far as the ends of the earth.

“You know very well I couldn’t stay longer than a year,” you say, sitting on a dinner chair across from her.

“Then why did you promise me that you would come back then?” 

She rolls her eyes.

“Look—” you pause and catch a breath. Note the sudden lump suddenly stuck in your throat—a byproduct from years of pent-up feelings from a lack of closure. “Life happened. Shit happens. I didn’t willingly forget, I just didn’t get any opportunity to see you again.”

“Sure, sure. Willingly forget, right.” Seulgi scoffs at your answer, as if you weren’t going through difficult circumstances like she had, as if you had no battles to fight. “I bet you were doing better once you left me to go home, like they always do.”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?” you reply, raising your voice. “I told you life happened!”

“Okay, let’s remove the part where none of us could fly for a year, maybe two. How about the rest?” Seulgi retaliates with another question, and it leaves you in utter disbelief at how stubborn she is. Perhaps that’s the one thing that brings you two together: just how headstrong you both are. “Did you even try to reach out at all?”

Your eyes immediately stray away from hers, much to her audible disdain. No words required to imply anything else. 

“Okay, I guess I did forget about you,” you say, and it’s a half-truth, primarily because you want to avoid any more of this unnecessary drama resurfacing, especially when you’re on vacation out of all times. A nice five-star hotel in Los Angeles, a place you don’t have eager thoughts to travel to, apart from the occasional leave and maybe the multiple team playoff games in the spring. “What do you think happened when I tried to get another visa?”

“Should have asked me for help. I could have vouched for you,” she replies, as if that’s going to improve your chances whatsoever. It doesn’t help in the slightest now. “But what’s the point in talking about that now? I’m here now, so we can catch up on what we missed out on.”

You let your annoyance be known in the form of an indignant sigh. After a brief pause, you quietly retort, “You should have led with that to begin with.”

“Well sorry I’m not the same girl I was four years ago,” she says, tone miffed. “I mean, just look at yourself.”

You fall back on the chair, covering your mouth, preventing more damage. Point heard and taken. Your appalled reaction elicits a quiet giggle out of her.

“So unserious. You’ve always been like that,” she adds, clenching her hand into a fist, observing as you crumble and fall apart before her. “We’re both stuck in the past, but at least I grew; became a better person out of it. And you?”

“Seul,” you say, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she stops this personally charged attack on your character, but she doesn’t stop; she lets her mouth run every thought, every unspoken word built up from four years of waiting. It’s almost comical how she talks about you, like she has an audience listening to her, you included, and you can imagine all the laughs and jeers as she talks. She knows how to charm anyone with the right words and a dash of charisma added in between. Most of it, both insults and playful jokes alike, obscured behind those cute eyes and puffy cheeks that capture your attention whenever she smiles, having lost her anger somewhere in that impromptu rant. 

And it ends like it always has. A show of affection, a little kiss, then you’re both back in each other’s arms, as if the passage of time was a mere afterthought. It’s the oldest trick in the book that you know. 

And it works as it always has. To a fault.

—————

“Gotta say, I hate it when you do that. It’s like cheating and I really fucking hate it,” says Seulgi, between impassioned kisses, tasting each other’s lips like water in a desert. “That’s the one thing I don’t miss about you.”

“Yet you’re still kissing me,” you reply, pecking her lips rapidly, like you have a point to prove. You caress her bare shoulders, while your fingers play with the spaghetti straps holding her shirt together. She mirrors you with your own shirt, tugging at its fabric, itching to undress you as much as you.

Kang Seulgi can complain all she wants, but she falls for it every single time.

“Shut up.” Seulgi rests her warm palms against your cheeks. With a tight press, you’re puffed up, blushed as bright as the sun.

You make out with each other hungrily, urgently reaching for the bedroom, where you end up pushing her onto the mattress. It’s only then you remember just how hot Seulgi looks when she’s at her simplest: in a pink camisole and really short jean shorts. She really had this all planned out, knowing she’d be traveling the States all summer long, and California isn’t the most inviting place to wear her typical clothes.

Or maybe she learned a thing or two from Joy about wearing skimpier clothing in public.

“You’re staring,” she comments, snapping you out of your lust-filled daze. Seeing this, she spreads her toned, slender legs apart, as if inviting you inside them—an offer you absolutely won’t refuse. “I don’t have all night to wait, baby.”

“Hm, how long are you here then?” you ask as you undress right in front of her. 

She doesn’t give an immediate answer; her eyes linger on the growing tent on your bulge, before she scans up to your face as you hover above her on the bed. “Gonna have to be more specific. We’ll be here for a month before heading home.”

“Here. Los Angeles, I mean,” you quickly comment as you lift her slinky arms over her head and kiss down from her temple to her neck.

“Mmm—” Enraptured by your soft lips, her words crumble into nothing but a whine against your ear. “Five days. Practice tomorrow and on Thursday, then two shows the days after.”

“And do you have any free time in between schedules?” You whisper against her neck, slowly lifting her shirt over her head, leaving only a simple pink bra to cover her. You sneak a finger between her shorts, dig between the fabric to brush her folds, wincing at a newly wet sensation. 

"Oh." Seulgi says, voice deep and breathy, shuddering as you press into her slick. Her thoughts go haywire, your long-forgotten touch so fresh and foreign to her, even though you’ve had her in this position countless times. 

"Between practices maybe?" 

"God." Seulgi sucks in a gasp of air, chews on her lip, and says what you're both thinking: "I need you to fuck me so fucking bad." 

“Answer the question first, Seul,” you tease, stroking her sensitive clit with your digit, then placing a second one to overwhelm her. “I really want to know so we don’t waste whatever time we have left.”

Much to her chagrin, the moans and quivers she releases do just that. It’s not primarily her fault when you’re the one instigating. Still, she can’t help but become helpless beneath you.

“Mm—mm—please—just—fuck—” she cries out, tilting her chin as her words are reduced to nothing but helpless mewls and moans. It’s almost cruel to watch, but you’re enjoying every moment of this, relishing the sight of a pleasure-laden Seulgi squirming as you finger her. Part of it might have something to do with the brief argument you had earlier, but as she said, you never really became a better person out of your brief little fling.

And perhaps for your sex life, it was all the more better for it.

She really had no time to waste, hectic schedule and all, but you had all the power and freedom to pin her down like this as long as you wanted. You hated Southern California as much as the day job that allowed you to vacation here in the first place, but you’d happily request a transfer here if it meant you could fuck Seulgi like this as often as you could. You certainly know that this isn’t the reality, but at least for one night, and God willing, the next few days, it is.

“Answer the question, Seul,” you repeat in her ear, every word laced with venom, as your fingers increase in pace stroking her slick cunt. Even with the obstructive layers of fabric around her groin, it only serves as a minor distraction as you pump your digits inside her, never letting up even in rapidly growing heat. As for Seulgi, it only makes her needier, whine louder and her figure squirm more violently, keeping your fingers in a harsh lock. Unable to keep herself together, her fingers squirm at air, then at the sheets as her climax quickly approaches.

“Mm—oh—oh—gonna cum oh my—” 

It takes only a few more pumps before she lets up, giving in to her first of hopefully many orgasms tonight. Slack jawed, neck exposed, she utters a deep, echoed moan as her juices coat your buried fingers between her folds, staining her underwear and shorts in the process. You keep your digits tucked in her heat, slowing your pace to a stop as she rides down her climax, heaving and gasping for air.

“Didn’t expect you to cum so fast, Seul,” you say, withdrawing your newly drenched fingers from between her legs before putting them in your mouth, tasting her delicious slick. “You still taste so good after so long.” 

While she recovers from her orgasm, you pick away at the remainder of her clothes. Shorts and underwear go flying off your hand, and her nakedness reveals the true aftermath: an endless flow of juices dripping from her cunt down to the sheets. As you undress her, you notice the sticky puddle built up on her panties too.

It isn’t your problem.

You hover up to a limp Seulgi, who’s still reeling from her orgasm. An ear to ear grin forms on your lips as you repeat the process. Kiss down her neck, to her collarbones, until you lay your face against her cleavage, playfully teasing her breasts with a hint of tongue, if not for the bra you’ve purposefully left in place. She’s too weak to resist or respond, having turned into a shell of herself, an outlet to satisfy your personal desires. Hungry for more, you sneak those same fingers back into her folds, forcing weak, shrilly whines out of her mouth. 

“Mm—baby, we don’t have enough time—” she blurts, desperate, before drowning in her own moans as you slowly finger her again. You know she’s wrong, you know you have all the time in the world, and you certainly won’t rush, not when tomorrow is uncertain.

You struggle to unclasp the hook on her bra, having buried your face deep into her skin. It’s only after Seulgi regains a little control of herself that she assists you, intertwining your hand with hers before you work together to finally undo the obstructive piece of clothing. She slips the straps off her shoulders, tossing them aside before you dive head first into her now bare chest again, kissing and fondling her breasts.

With every deep kiss, she reciprocates with a whine, and every mewl dripping from her lips comes out a note higher than the last. She clings to your shoulders while you make out with her, like you’re the only reason why she would want to be here. You feel the same way, too. Her eyes flutter open and close like window curtains, mouth pouting and puckering with hunger yet to be fully satisfied, as curved and cute as that smile is. 

She eventually stops you dead, cups a warm palm on your cheek, redirecting your eyes and meeting hers. 

“I didn’t come to make love tonight,” she says, panting between words. “I came here to get fucked. Hard.”

The way she articulates such filthy thoughts leaves you breathless. Sure, she’s said it countless times when you were still together, but you’ve never seen her sound this passionate, this desperate, this needy, that it’s almost uncanny. Up until this point, you thought she was here to reignite a flame, but it seems as though time has burned those fond memories away.

Suddenly, you find yourself lying flat on the bed. It happened so fast; you were caught unawares and in awe of Seulgi’s newfound strength. She flipped you over then proceeded to straddle herself on your lap, resting her lanky arms on your bare chest. There’s nowhere to look except for those glazed eyes, staring you down hungrily. Even as she slowly slips off your underwear and your cock springs free, tapping the edges of her folds, your gazes remain locked toward each other.

And God, Seulgi’s figure is so fucking perfect.

You wonder just how much better her body could look when it was already flawless. The way she used every curve, every muscle, and every subtle movement to hypnotize you couldn’t be any more convincing. Now you wanted to fuck her as hard as she wanted, maybe rougher, and give her a good reason to stay a little longer. 

She catches you staring doe-eyed, smiles with an audible giggle. “God, is this the first time you’ve seen me naked like this? Be real. This is nothing new to you.”

It sounds insulting, and it probably is, but even her voice sounds sexier now to your ears, and that overlooks the intentioned insult. 

“Oh, I get it. None of these girls fucked you as well as I did, huh?” she continues, leaning her face—and the rest of that fucking body, its immaculate figure—ever close to you, pinning you deeper into the mattress. Her lips inches away from yours; you want to kiss them again so bad. “Gonna make sure you won’t ever consider anyone else except me.”

Right before you make a move, she asserts herself over you, drawing back her figure, lifting herself before slowly descending on your raging erection. It’s a difficult, agonizing watch, like watching a car crash in slow motion, only this is something you want to happen immediately. You want her tightness to suffocate and consume you. You want to fill her up with every bit of load you missed out on.

As you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable, you gasp. Your tip brushes between her folds heavily, sucks every bit of air out of your lungs. If she buries herself down to your hilt, you might as well die. A much better fate than slowly being grinded down to the dirt for the bare minimum by work. 

Seulgi’s eyes slam shut, and through gritted teeth she whines, feeling your cock for the first time in years—might as well be forever. The hands that were glued to your chest make their way to your shoulders, pressing on them tightly, as if the idea of letting go would kill her. Slowly but surely, she penetrates herself, inch by inch, until her whole cunt is consumed whole by your cock, burning your loins with her heat.

You both release a harmonious moan as you let the wondrous feeling settle—the feeling of being one again. She draws a hand back to brush off a wave of dark hair covering her face, then she gingerly leans down to kiss you passionately. Even after all these years, she’s still incredibly tight, incredibly hot, that it brings you back to the first time you took her.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you ended up like this for the rest of the night. The best case scenario, just the two of you tangled up in bed. Of course, her body has other things in mind.

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” says Seulgi, breathing heavily as she continuously brushes those annoying strands of hair covering her beautiful face. “You have no idea how many dildos and people I’ve fucked because of you.”

Your eyes widen. Forget the dildos, that’s a long-running secret between you two. People?

You immediately echo your thoughts into words. “People?” 

“When we got here the other day, I was so desperate. I tried so hard. Club after club. Then I saw you roaming around the poolside and I just knew I had to have you.” Her hips begin to move, to buckle around your cock. After a prolonged whine, she adds, “God, I don’t know if I can leave you after I make you cum in me again. I just—”

The motion around her hips accelerates, and Seulgi loses herself in growing pleasure, letting her body do the rest of the talking. The way she lifts and sinks herself down, using your cock to stretch her out clears out every question or thought you have. She feels so fucking good, and you’re more than satisfied watching her make you hers. 

Hands on her waist, you watch as she relishes in you, groaning as she rides you in rhythmic motions, bouncing up and down your cock. You don’t even have to do anything; your hips move on their own, thrusting up and meeting her halfway. 

“God, you feel so fucking good, so fucking big.” Seulgi slowly leans her body back as she fucks herself on you, enabling you to ogle your now wet cock disappear and reappear between her slick folds. 

With each plunge, you find your collective moans join the wet flaps of your flesh slapping flesh, and it leaves you even more breathless. Swallow your throat. You don’t know how much more you can take. The erotic sight and sound is quickly becoming too much to bear. You want the moment to last a little longer.

Not that it’d ever, ever be up for you to decide.

At least Seulgi is gracious enough to recognize this. She continues to impale herself on you, experiment with angles on your cock between thrusts to maximize her already surging pleasure. She isn’t fast nor slow, but perfectly paced to make sure both of you feel good. One hand remains firmly planted on your chest, again, while the other pinches her breast to keep you on your toes. A sight that drives you crazy, now you’re the one breaking rhythm with your now wild strokes.

“I’m gonna lose it, Seul, I swear—” you mutter, aroused by her teasing. She giggles. It’s as she intended. 

“Yeah, maybe that’s the point—” she says in a singsong tone, “Maybe I want you to fuck me like this. Maybe I want you to use me like a fleshlight. Maybe I want you to fuck me like a whore.”

At this point, the only feasible thing that could happen is the first one. You’re giving her hard, deep strokes, aroused by the sight over you. Seulgi has you completely under her spell. It doesn’t help that you’re so close, hanging on by a thread, using every bit of your willpower not to burst right before she says so, even though nothing is at stake here.

“I’m so close, Seul,” you say between gasps, caught in the heat of the moment, and it might have been the worst thing you could have possibly said. “I am so close.”

You swear her ears perk up as you spit those words out, as if they were the extra fuel she needed to recharge her. A hand runs across and down your neck, pinches a nerve or two, strains a few breaths in the process. She rides you vigorously, slamming herself against you like she has some kind of resentment against your cock, but it’s out of lust, not hate. At this point, you’re both crashing your bodies into each other, racing to see who gets to cum first, to find out who wants each other more. 

“Yes, please cum, I want you to cum—” Seulgi rests both hands bare on your chest, angles her face where your lips can function as a safe cushion for hers when it happens. She smells of everything sweat, sex, and alcohol, her hot breath tainted with the shot or two before making her way to your room. “Please fucking cum for me—”

The remainder of her words gets lost at the tip of her tongue as she fucks herself on you, losing herself in the ecstasy of sex for the final time, every nerve and muscle in her body quivering as her heat suffocates you beyond any point of escape. 

Seulgi goes limp, rigid at a point where your cock pokes directly at her womb, and she orgasms. Her mouth slowly dips, producing a whiny, elongated moan while a fresh torrent of her slick creams your shaft and leaves you completely breathless. You grip your hands on your svelte waist, still thrusting through the fading embers of her climax, preparing yourself to follow shortly after hers dies down. 

She regains a little composure, and then she proceeds to pull the plug on you.

Seulgi lifts her hips up, right at the moment you expected to reciprocate your cum to fill hers as she did to you, and pulls herself from the depths of your cock as you orgasm. It feels like a knife was stabbed, twisted, then pulled from your gut, and the sight is almost unbearable to watch. Your aching cock gushes. Bursts of your seed geyser around your shaft, violently throbbing as you cry out in agony, agitated and deprived from what you really want. 

Her eyes glaze down, as if she’s seeing blood on her hands. After the joy comes the immediate regret. She’s trembling, and you don’t know whether it’s from the aftershock of her orgasm, or from guilt. 

“Oh my god. Fuck. I-I’m so sorry—”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” You shout, rolling your eyes as far as the back of your skull and gasping as your orgasm meets an unfortunate end, your cock gradually shrinking as it throbs until nothing spews from your tip. 

“I—I didn’t know what came into me,” she says, tone remorseful, as she gently scoots next to you. She’s on all fours, unwilling to rest beside your tired, splayed out figure—unwilling to bring you more misery and pain than what you’re experiencing now. “I guess I just wanted a little payback for ghosting me like that.”

The freezing glare you give her is half-annoyed, half-furious. You had little to no strength to do anything about it, unfortunately, and this is the best you can do. 

“Well what can I do about it, jerk,” you blurt, turning your glance the other way, wishing you’d never let her in—both inside this room and back into your life.

The bed lightly quakes, and you feel the warmth of an arm outstretched over your figure. “You can take my ass instead. There’s lube in my bag, go get it if you want.”

You refuse to budge an inch, leave her dry for a few minutes, completely unresponsive toward her. She tries to draw you back in, cuddling and kissing your ear softly, playing with your hair, nuzzling her face against your cheek. As much as you want to push her away, you can’t—both from a lack of strength and a lack of willingness to turn her away again, at least completely.

Seulgi redirects your face to the ceiling and the corners of her face. Caressing your shoulder, she whispers, “I really didn’t mean to. My emotions got the best of me. I never wanted to hurt you like this. Please.”

You briefly glance in her direction, catch her eyes twinkling, nearly at the point of tears. You still don’t entertain her.

“C’mon. I will let you punish me. Use me. Let me make it up for you.”

Still, you don’t bother. Seeing how none of efforts have been working, she slowly hops off the couch and limps out of the room. You’re annoyed that she didn’t close the door on the way out, and a little more after she returns and rejoins you after a moment with a bottle in her hand. 

Smiling, she presents the bottle directly in your gaze, confirming it is, in fact, lube. “See? You can fuck my ass. Isn’t this what you always wanted to do with me? Let me warm it up for you.”

You utter an involuntary gasp when Seulgi straddles herself atop you again, her toned, slender legs spread out wide, giving you full view to her cunt and her ass. She strews liquid from the bottle into her hand and coats her holes with the lube, giving you an alluring stare, grinning ear to ear, as if it’ll convince you.

As soon as she finishes glazing her tight holes with lube, you lift yourself from the bed, cupping her face and meeting her lips for a passionate kiss.

“You better not.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

Seulgi can’t keep her mouth off you, your chin, your jaw, affection overflowing until she sees your glow underneath the bright lights. Now, she’s flat on the bed as you keep passionately making out, her hand snaking down to your cock and stroking it back to full mast, eliciting a string of moans from your mouth into hers. Pumping your length and finding it hard, she breaks off the kiss and pushes you away.

Turning her body face down, Seulgi clambers atop the bed on all fours, arching her slim back and sticking her wet, curved ass directly in front of you. She’s clearly mastered the art of using her flexible body to seduce and hypnotize. She’s practiced the motion that it’s routine, like it’s a regular music show performance to her. 

It’s moments like this when you wish there was a mirror available.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Seulgi looks over her shoulder, brushes off stray locks of hair aside, giving you that ‘fuck me’ stare that overpowers you every time. She says she’s down whenever you are, but you know she has anything but time available. 

Still, you were going to indulge in her and make the most of fucking her ass until the sun rises.

You grab a handful of her flesh, stroke your cock with the other hand. Brushing your tip against the entrance of her folds, it’s enough to make her fold, make her crumble. Low whimpers exhale from her mouth, impatiently waiting for you to enter her, to ruin her tighter hole.

“Mm, God, please, put in me already—” she whines, her head spinning—both literally and figuratively. “I don’t know how long I can take it without you inside me.” “I thought you said whenever I was ready?” you jest, poking fun at what she said moments ago. Hearing the neediness in her voice compels you to tease her. Just your cock against her wet folds has her cries reaching higher. Up, down, and her tone pitches.

“Stop that! Just because I said what I said doesn’t mean I want it as much as you do.”

“I wasn’t complaining this much when you forcefully rode me,” you reply, spanking her ass with a quick palm, forcing a yelp from her. The more she goads, the brighter her cheeks smolder.

“Please just put it in already, oh my God.” Seulgi turns to you, gritting her teeth, so desperate for her cock to be filled. Another slap, another cry of pain and pleasure. 

“Keep complaining. I like it when you complain like that.”

“Mm, fuck!” With every word she tries to utter from her lips, your hand meets her flesh with a powerful smack, disrupting her train of thought. You could write poems, lyrics, sonnets, with the syllables she's stuttering out, until even the slightest of noise is enough to warrant another slap of her ripe ass. Soon enough, her cheeks are burning the brightest of red.

And you still haven’t put your dick anywhere inside her.

“Enough teasing! Fuck me already—mmmph!”

You take her by surprise, nudging your cock against the tightness of her smaller hole, and making her moan the loudest she’s ever moaned so far tonight. Her body tries to resist, to push you off before you can fully sink yourself deep in her ass, but the wetness of her entrance is enough to help you nudge yourself inside. Seulgi’s groan drags out as long as the time it takes for you to penetrate her backside, slowly but surely burying yourself to the hilt. 

When you finally reach the depths of her ass, you groan in agony as you drown in the sensation of her tight walls stretching against your cock. Hands firmly gripped on her ass, you swear you can feel your shaft breaking in half as you struggle to move inside her, but after a moment to acclimate yourself, the torturous feeling of her tightness mellows out, and the pleasure kicks in. 

“Oh God, Seulgi. This ass feels so fucking good, oh my God,” you rasp, leaning forward to whisper and grunt in her ear. “You’re so fucking wet and tight, you’re going to break me.”

She angles her head, unable to face you, but her side profile says everything you need to know. Her body trembles wildly as her very foundations crumble with your presence inside her, yet she’s still able to maintain some semblance of composure to say something back. “And that’s what I want. I want to break you. I want you to ruin me, too. Use me. Fuck me.”

As if you needed any more convincing, she wiggles her ass against your buried cock, making you squirm.

Drawing yourself back into position, she moans as you pull your cock away, the tightness of her ass making it difficult, and her wetness making it easy to plunge back in. It also helps that Seulgi herself leans back against yours whenever you take her, urging you to slide deeper and deeper inside her.

So with a steady rhythm, you fuck her, reveling in the sight of Seulgi’s perfectly arched back and toned body rocking with yours. You had no intention to break her as she wanted, you wanted to let the feeling of her tighter hole linger longer than her pussy as compensation. The sensation of her asshole is so otherworldly, so different from fucking her cunt, that they’re almost completely separate entities. It’s neither better nor worse, it’s in its own league.

But maintaining this level of poise proves to be almost difficult, if not impossible. She urges you on—with loud moans, with enticing jiggles of her ass as you fuck her, with occasional demands from her needy lips—compelling you to take her harder than what your limits are. She pushes all the buttons in your brain that it drives you crazy, and you can’t help but give in, even when she’s the one allowing you to take her like this.

It’s sinful. Out of control. Your pace becomes disrupted, frenzied, and completely erratic. You’ve got both hands gripped to her waist, hammering away at her tight hole as lube and slick coat her outer layers, and the room is filled with the sounds of her lewd noises echoing all over the place backed up by the wet smacks of your flesh slamming against her skin. Forget that the whole establishment can hear you fuck, they have no idea who you’re even entangled with. Seulgi can scream and cry all she wants; they can do nothing to make both of you stop.

“Yes, fucking ruin me, fucking use me, keep fucking me like this—” 

Resting your head over her shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat, sex, and alcohol from her, you rasp in her ear, “I’m so close to cumming again.” 

To make sure she doesn’t try anything funny, you fuck her as hard as your body allows, force her deep onto the sheets. You lay flat on top of her, hammering her with hard, mind-numbing thrusts while you cling to her shoulders, grab a fistful of her dark locks, kiss and nibble her ear—find anything to distract you from the inevitable. She’s screaming and mewling, forcing your attention to her, screaming about how she wants you to empty your seed inside of her, which you intend to do. 

Either way, you don’t have a lot of time left.

You rest your head beside her ear, peck her sensitive skin. You’re fucking her ass so hard it’s almost cruel. Each stroke twists that expanding knot further and further until it’s beyond your control. “Gonna fucking cum again, Seul.”

She nods, bites her lip, eager and ready to receive you. “Inside,” she says once, and it only takes a handful more of pumps into her tight hole before you’re hilted deep inside her. The sound from your throat is primal, borderline animalistic. Your bodies tremble violently as you fuck your cum with each withering thrust, making sure not a single drop goes to waste, until you find yourselves frozen in a state you wish would last forever.

When your orgasm finally dies down, so does the rest of your body. Going numb, you press yourself against her lithe figure, lock her in a tight embrace, finding solace beside her head. A calm, peaceful quiet follows, with your collective deep breaths the only stir for minutes, maybe hours. 

“I guess we can call it even.” Seulgi breaks the silence,  turning her head to meet yours.

“Still didn’t cum in your pussy though,” is your immediate response, still unsatisfied, despite filling her ass with a hot load. “So no. We’re not even.”

“Relax. I’m here for five days. You know this place very well, right?” Seulgi pushes you off her and you settle on opposite ends of the bed, meeting each other’s gazes, her eyes twinkling with a rekindled fire and renewed lust. “We’ve got plenty of opportunities to fuck till then.”

Her cute face glows from the brightness of the sun beginning to rise over the city. That can only mean one thing: a new day has arrived.

“Or we can start right now.”

“Even better.” 

—————

(A/N: The irony of naming this fic Anywhere but home when the actual inspiration is one of Seulgi's other songs from the 28 Reasons album. Specifically, Los Angeles. It's also the best song on there as well. I've been itching to write a fic with those pics she took when she was on vacation, but realized most of them didn't really fit the city setting of the story XD Thank you for reading!)

[artists-ally]

{Flatline} Harvey Specter x OFC {Pt. 1}

I got the title from this song called Flatline by Jared Benjamin. I added it to this playlist of very Harvey Specter vibes if you'd like to listen. There will be multiple parts, around three so be sure to stick around for those. As always comment and tell me what you think, or pop by in my asks. Anyhoo enjoy my loves!

Word count ~ 10,619 (it is a very fast paced read I promise)

Warnings ~ Age gap, smut (18+), handjob, no real BDSM but Dom/Sub concepts, language, alcohol, anxiety/anxious thoughts, probably really inaccurate lawyer terms idk man.

Summary: Harvey has taken notice of the hardest working first year associate, Claudia Martin. Despite being petrified of the infamous closer, she tried her hardest to not let it get the best of her. Harvey has a few ideas on how to increase her confidence.

Tagging : @maxdamax @ashcosmo @rosedpetal (This is basically just dedicated to you three so I hope you enjoy it the most!)

~~~~~

“Alright, everybody stop,” Harvey announced. I put down my file and sat ramrod straight in my seat, eyes darting at the other associates as they put theirs away too. “We have been working on this case now for four hours and no one has brought me a single thing that I can use as evidence. Now, if someone doesn’t put a file in my hand in the next ten minutes, we’re going to lose. And those of you who don’t want to get stuck doing whatever bullshit Louis is going to punish you with, you better come up with something fast.”

I looked at the blue file in my hands, heart hammering in my chest as I saw Harvey leave out of the corner of my eye. With a deep breath, I pushed up out of my chair and followed after him. 

Circling around the office a few times, I made up reasons and excuses not to go see him. It was stupid, I knew that, but I didn’t want to bring him something and then immediately be called an idiot for bringing him shit he already knew.

I saw how he treated Mike. And Louis. Even Donna from time to time.

There were two things you did in this world: die, and respect Harvey Specter. As a first year associate in this god awful firm, you didn’t dare break his trust or waste his time. 

“Is Mr. Specter available for a moment?” I asked Donna. I hadn’t talked to her much, but I’ve heard her speak to Harvey a few times around the office. She was someone I wished I knew better, someone I wished I could ask for help, but I didn’t want to bother her either. 

“Yeah, he’s in his office going over the statements from the mock trial,” Donna smiled, pointing over her shoulder. I nodded, willing my feet to move in the direction of his office. I knocked before pushing the glass door opening, keeping my head down. 

“Claudia, now is really not a good-” “I have something for you,” we spoke at the same time. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I can come back and-” “Is that for the mock trial?” He asked, and I nodded. “Hand it over.”

I placed the file in his outstretched hand as he came around to sit on the corner of the desk. My hands were trembling with dread as his eyes raked over the words on the page. The lines in his forehead creased, eyes narrowing.

“Claudia, this is brilliant,” he had a very confused expression when his eyes met mine. “Where did you find this?”

“Well, I figured if Mrs. Thompson said that she didn’t pay her rent that month, because there wasn't money in her account, then there had to be some kind of a trail. Some clue. There was, but it was only an amount, and it didn’t say which account it came from. When I did some digging, I found out that she uses Capital One banking and when I looked at her bank statement-

“There was a draw for the exact amount that Mr. Saros used to bet on that game,�� Harvey finished before I could get the words out of my mouth. “Claudia, this is genius. Come on, we’ve got a case to win.”

____

“...Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this compelling evidence reveals that Mr. Saros was in fact fraudulent and used his ex- wife’s funds to continue gambling. Thank you.” Harvey closed the argument, taking a seat besides Donna, who represented the client. Jessica looked to the opposing counsel as if to say ‘do you have anything?’. Louis had nothing. Not a sliver of hope. 

“Then it is decided, Mr. Saros will be charged with a misdemeanor and face a prison sentence of one year in county jail.”

With a crack of the gavel, the case was over, and applause rang through the office for Harvey and his team. I had a tiny smile on my face as I left the conference room to go back to the bullpen. There was an endless stack of reports to run, motions to file… it never ended when it came to Louis. And now that I was on the winning team I’m sure that-

“Claudia, where are you going?” Harvey called out. 

“Oh, I was just going back to my desk. Why, is there something that you need?” God I hope he didn’t need anything. I was sweating bullets by just standing next to him. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your first win,” he gave a small smirk. His brown eyes were sharp, but not as intense as they usually were. 

I flushed, “Well, it’s not really a real case.”

“No, it’s not. But seeing what you did today, how would you like one of your own?” He extended a blue file back to me, a stack of papers covered inside. I could feel the gaze of the other associates on me as I hesitantly took the file. 

“Mr. Spector, I’m honored, but I’m not-”

“Yes you are,” he cut me off. I bit my tongue. “You are a lawyer, Claudia. And you clearly have an outside the box approach to your tactics which we don’t see very often. I haven’t seen someone able to compile and order evidence like you since Mike came to work for me a decade ago. I’ll be supervising your case, you report to me with any questions you might have, but otherwise this is all you.”

My first case… given to me by Harvey Specter himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. I flipped through the file, seeing that this wasn’t just some pro-bono case. This was against a big time client and the SEC. The SEC meant Sean Cayhill, who, from my understanding, was already on the rocks with this firm and has been for a very long time. 

“You can thank me when you win it,” he extended his hand, and I shook it, hoping that they weren’t sweaty. “Look over the file tonight and come ready to swing tomorrow morning.”

Harvey’s hand was warm, and significantly larger than mine. Everything about him was bigger than I was, especially his ego. And his personality. Lord help me…

My nod was the only confirmation that I would meet him there. As he walked out, I met some of the eyes of the associates and they scowled at me. At the file in my hand. At the fact that I hadn’t said a word the whole meeting today and then came up with the winning piece of evidence. And now I was working alongside Harvey. 

The infamous closer at Pearson-Specter-Litt. 

____

“Claudia, what’s wrong?” Donna startled me so bad I dropped my coffee on the floor with a shout. “Something’s really wrong.”

“Oh, it’s just you Donna,” I sighed in relief. I could feel the coffee seeping into my shirt and chilling against my skin. “Great.”

“What has you so skittish?” She asked, worry gracing her features. 

I didn’t want to admit that it was because of Harvey and the fact that I had to work alongside him on this case. I hadn’t been able to sleep much last night because I was up thinking about him, wondering how he’d handle this case himself. What he would do, how he would do it. Sure, I admired the guy, how could I not? He was a perfectionist and always found a way. I wish I had half the confidence he did. 

“It’s Harvey, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that? Nevermind, you’re Donna. But… Yes it’s because of Harvey.”

“Did he say something to you yesterday after you guys won the mock trial? I saw he handed you a case file, what was it all about?” “That's precisely what’s wrong,” I groaned, bending over and picking up the dropped paper cup. “He gave me a case of my own as a 'thank you' for finding the evidence that won the trial yesterday. I’m terrified of him, Donna. I-I don’t know how to act around someone with that kind of personality. He is so abrasive and forward and harsh and-”

“A total jackass?” She finished for me. 

I chuckled nervously, “I’m afraid to even think of that word in association with his name. I mean, how am I supposed to work alongside someone that intense? Plus, I’m a first year associate, how am I supposed to compete with what he as to offer and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. No need to get yourself all worked up, Claudia. Harvey is a lot of bark, and only some bite.” “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“What I’m trying to say is that there is some heart inside that cold dead chest of his,” she smiled, a genuine, friendly smile. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him give someone a case after a mock trial. Not even Mike. Up until yesterday I’m not even sure he knew you existed.” “Wish it was still that way,” I rolled my eyes, folding my arms against my chest.

“Claudia, listen to me. Yes, Harvey can be rude and obnoxious, but he is the best damn attorney in the state of New York. He didn’t get to the top by being nice and sweet. He was impressed with your willingness to bring him the evidence yourself. Now he knows he can count on you to get things done in a pinch when he needs them.” “I had that evidence for an hour,” I emphasized. “I was trying to build up the courage to give it to him long before he came and ripped us to shreds for not having anything. I just didn’t want him to think that it was a stupid idea or to be in a bad mood and turn me away because I definitely wouldn’t have done it at all after that. I don’t know how to deal with someone like him, Donna. What am I supposed to do? I should just give the case to Griffin or Thomas-”

“No no no. You are definitely not going to do that. That will only show Harvey that you aren’t serious about becoming a lawyer.”

“I am serious about becoming a lawyer.” I was mildly offended that she’d even say that to me. “Of course I want to be a lawyer, it's all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And Harvey will only know that if you work on this case with him.”

I inhaled and exhaled, leaning my head back and looking at the ceiling. “Fine.” “That’s my girl,” she grinned. “Now, come on. I have an extra dress you can borrow because I am sure as hell not letting you walk around covered in coffee stains.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t think what you have will fit me.” Donna jerked her head over her shoulder and I followed to a closet in the back of the file room. When she opened it, it was like a full blown wardrobe. There were dresses and shoes and purses and hair supplies lining the walls. “Woah…” “Don’t ever underestimate the power of Donna,” she winked before rummaging through the office closet. 

After searching for a few moments, she pulled out a lovely royal blue dress that was, as she hinted at, a perfect size for me. How she knew that it would fit, I’ll never know. But I did know that I wouldn’t ever underestimate the power of Donna ever again. She’s magical. 

“Now, what do you say?”

“Thanks, Donna,” I smiled sweetly. 

“Actually I was looking for ‘you are an ethereal goddess who makes all my dreams and wishes come true’ but that works too,” I knew she was teasing, and I gave her a small shove of her shoulder. “Go get dressed, come back here and let me do your hair.”

“What’s wrong with the way it is?” I turned to look in the mirror on the back of the door and grimaced. “Oh…” My messy curls from yesterday looked more like a rat wrapped around a bunch of fishing line.

“Hurry up, Harvey will be back soon and I want you in that office, file in hand, ready to go when he gets here.”

I quickly shuffled to the bathroom and changed into the form fitting, very Donna-style dress. It didn’t look half bad, and I actually somewhat tolerated the dress. Normally I’d find a pants suit far more flattering and business appropriate than a dress, strictly because of the over sexualized nature of women's business clothing. 

I hate the corporate world. 

I did one more glance in the mirror before heading back to the break room to grab the file. I must’ve set it on the counter while I was pouring my coffee. Hopefully it wasn’t ruined. 

There was no blue file on the counter. Or the table. Or on top of the microwave or the fridge. I even checked inside the microwave. Nothing. It was nowhere. Oh shit.

“Do you want curls or for me to straighten-” “It’s gone,” there was a clear panic in my voice. “The file, it’s not in the break room, Donna. It’s gone.”

“How can it be gone?” 

“I-I don’t- I don’t know I thought I set it on the counter while I was getting coffee and it’s not there.” I felt a cold sweat break out onto my skin. My forehead was damp to the touch. 

“Okay, take a deep breath. Let’s go look again and then check your desk. Maybe someone found it and put it there, or maybe left it with me or Gretchen. It didn’t grow a pair of legs and walk away, we’ll find it.”

“I’m gonna get fired,” my voice was almost a silent whisper, tears building behind my eyes, prickling my nose. “Donna, Harvey is going to kill me.”

“Worst comes to worst we get a new file, Harvey will never know.”

“No no no he will because he had notes of his own on the papers in there.” “Shit,” she swore. “Let’s just go look.”

We speed walked through the bullpen, earning some odd looks as we practically sprinted through the office. She checked the break room for me again, and I went to my cubicle. Nothing, not a blue folder anywhere to be seen. 

Donna came up empty handed in the break room, checking with Gretchen on her way by Louis’s office. We met at her desk. Nothing. 

“Fuck fuck fuck this is bad.” My hands were shaking, heart thundering against my ribs. I felt faint, like I could’ve fallen to the floor at any moment. “Donna, what am I gonna do?”

“Maybe somebody mistook it as their own file,” Donna blurted out after a moment of silence. She took off towards the bullpen and I followed after her, right on her heels. She marched through there, unapologetic as she invaded the other associates' work spaces. 

Still nothing. No blue file labeled ‘Devlyn Inc. Vs. Fulton Dynamics’. 

“Where the hell could it be?” She murmured to herself. 

“What are you guys looking for?” An associate, Benson, asked. 

“Oh, you know, a leprechaun pissing pieces of gold,” Donna’s voice was full of sarcasm. “Claudia set down a file in the break room for three minutes and forty-two seconds and now it’s mysteriously disappeared. Know anything about it?”

“No,” he pressed his lips together. “Not really.” “Not really?”

“There are a million case files floating around this office, you really expect me to pay attention to every single one and where it’s going?” “As an associate of this firm, yes, actually. I do. Now I want to know if you know who took her file and I want to know right now. You have one chance to tell the truth, otherwise the bottom of my stiletto and your ass are gonna be great friends.”

Benson swallowed, “I truly don’t know. I’m sorry, I can keep an eye out for it. Is it the one Harvey gave Claudia yesterday?”

“Yes, and he needs it in twenty minutes,” Donna said, an undeniable urgency in her voice. “If you find it, do the right thing and give it back or so help me god you will find yourself jobless faster than you can get down on your knees and beg me to let you keep it.”

Donna beckoned me for her to follow and I did, my heart sinking and sinking into my stomach. It had to be around here somewhere. It had to be. 

I did another lap around, rummaging through all the drawers in the desk and thensome. Still nowhere. How could I be so stupid? So irresponsible? This is exactly why I didn’t want to take this case in the first place.

Despite all Harvey and Donna said the other day, I’m not ready to be a lawyer. Not really, anyway. I know I have my license and I’ve passed the Bar. I’ve done all the hard work, but this was… this was hell. A living nightmare. Not only was this firm constantly on the verge of collapsing, but it seemed like I made new enemies every other week by simply doing my job quickly, quietly, and efficiently. 

I don’t know how or why I piss everyone off all the time. I just do my work, I quite literally don’t bother another soul in this building unless I have to. Occasionally I’d ask Donna a question that she could ask Harvey or Mike to see what they thought about it. I’d never speak to them directly, just through her which didn’t make me feel good, either. 

I’d eat by myself, working through my meal. It took me two months of being here to finally use the break room because I was too nervous about taking the last tea bag or power bar from the cabinet. I just took a disposable coffee cup and filled it with tap water. And then kept that cup because I didn’t want to take the others because I figured other people needed them for coffee and I didn’t want them to be all gone-

“Claudia,” Donna interrupted my mild panic. “Harvey wants to see you.”

Oh no… no no no not yet god please not yet. I swallowed, or tried to at least; there was no moisture in my mouth whatsoever. I stood, knees trembling as I smoothed out the skirt of my dress.

Before I went on, she ran a brush through my hair, taking out the knots. It lay sleek and flat against my shoulders, a major difference from the low bun I always kept it in. My hair always made me so hot; I never understood how anyone could get anything done with it swaying in their face all day.

I could see him in his office, eyes staring us down as we rounded the corner. His gaze was locked on me and I felt my body tighten and constrict around a breath. Harvey was sitting on the corner of his desk, fingers toying with the cufflink on his left wrist.. 

“Hey, look at me,” Donna spoke softly, hands coming to my shoulders. “Give Harvey the truth, and nothing but. He will understand, if not, I will make him.”

I nodded.

When I pushed open his glass door, tension was thick in the air. My palms were clammy, still shaking. My mind was going a million miles a second. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Specter?” I asked, trying to keep my cool despite almost throwing up. 

“Please tell me you have some good news about the case that I gave you,” he sighed, pushing off the desk and standing in front of me. 

Welp… here goes my career. 

“Actually, Mr. Specter there is something I need to-”

“You were looking for me, Harvey?” I whipped my head over my shoulder, seeing Griffin knocking on the door. 

“Yes, Griffin come on please, shut the door as well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I can come back and we can discuss the details of-”

“No, Claudia. Stay for a moment,” Harvey gave a firm nod, full attention slipping from me to my fellow associate. “Griffin, I see you have something for me.”

“Yes,” Griffin threw a wicked grin at me before handing over a blue file. I could feel the sick rise in my throat. That was my blue file. “I would just like to go over the details of my case with you to get your input.”

“Your case?” Harvey questioned, sharing a glance between me and Griffin. “Where did you get this? Who the hell gave you a case?”

“That’s not important. I was hoping we could actually-”

“No,” Harvey cut him off. “It’s very important, actually. Because I can recall that just last night this exact file, with my handwriting, was in Claudia’s hands. So whatever act you’re putting on, I suggest you cut the bullshit right now.” “Okay I found it in the breakroom,” Griffin rolled his eyes. “Maybe if she were a little more responsible, which she clearly isn’t because she left her documents in a public space, then she’d be more equipped to handle a real case. Like a real lawyer should.”

I could see the muscle in Harvey’s jaw clench and contract several times. 

“Claudia, care to explain how our case got in this thief’s hands?” “Thief?” “I had spilled coffee,” I started, taking a deep breath when Griffin cut me a gaze so threatening I almost crumbled to my knees. “I spilled coffee and Donna offered a change of clothes for me. I didn’t even notice I left it. When I came back it was gone.”

“Well, I think that about settles it. How about you get out of here before you cause yourself a real problem. And If I ever catch wind of you stealing another one of Claudia’s files, or anyones for that matter, I will personally make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he ground his teeth, refusing to look at either of us. 

“Now get your ass back to your desk and pray to whoever you believe in that I don’t have you fired and disbarred for the shit you pulled today. Get the hell out of my sight.”

Griffin was out of there far faster than he walked in, head down, hands shoved in his pockets. I let out a shaky breath. 

“Are you okay?” Harvey asked me. “I’m so sorry,” I completely ignored his question. “Griffin was right, I was extremely irresponsible and shouldn’t have let that file out of my sight. If you want to give it to another associate I completely understand. Again, I am so sorry and understand that there are consequences to my actions for letting such important information go missing-”

“Claudia, slow down,” he eased. “It’s okay, you are not the one I am pissed at.”

“You’re not?” I didn’t understand why. “But- but I completely misplaced a case.”

“No,” Harvey shook his head. “No Griffin is the only one to blame. You spilled coffee, went to go get cleaned up, and he stole it. He should know better. And seeing that he clearly doesn’t, I know I’m right in my decision on who to bring onto this case with me.”

I could feel my blush creep up my neck. “I appreciate that, Mr. Specter.”

“Of course, Claudia. And please, call me Harvey.”

I just gave a subtle nod, taking the file from his hand. I followed his gaze from my face to my hair where he took a strand between his fingers, letting the end curl around his digit.

“I’ve never seen your hair so long,” He added, dropping it from his grip. My breath was caught in my throat. Words were vacant shadows in my mind as he surveyed the dress I was wearing. “I bet that’s Donna’s, isn’t it.”

I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “She wouldn’t let me walk around with coffee stains all day.”

“It looks good on you,” He complimented. Harvey’s eyes, again, went from my head to my toes. There was nothing I could do but fall victim to his… I didn’t know what to think of how he looked at me. Couldn’t decide if it was good or bad. 

“Time for the case then?” I needed to get his attention off of me. Now. I was flushed and losing my mind. Harvey didn’t really seem to acknowledge my words at all. 

“Sure.” Was all he gave me.

____

I barely escaped with the skin on my teeth after our consultation. No, he didn’t rip me to shreds, but he would not take his eyes off of me for even one second. It was so… so potent I couldn’t focus. It was almost lunch when Donna came in and saved my ass. 

I couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough.

“So, how did it go?” Donna asked as I sat in my cubicle. When she came around, or maybe she just followed me, I didn’t know. 

I put my face in my hands. “It was a disaster, Donna. I was a stuttering mess and I kept forgetting everything I was going to say because he would not stop staring at me. Like, he would not stop.” “Well, you aren’t exactly ugly, Claudia,” she snickered. 

“Donna, this isn’t funny,” I groaned. “I’m being completely frank with you.”

“How can I be expected to work alongside him when I can’t stand being in an enclosed space with him for more than four minutes without turning into a bumbling idiot? It’s like he enjoys watching me get flustered.”

“Claudia, I think you are making this a bigger deal in your head than it actually is.” Donna came around and sat on my desk, crossing a knee over the other. “And besides, Harvey understands what it’s like to be a new associate. It can be nerve wracking, especially when you have Louis breathing down your neck.”

I chuckled gravely, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.” “Why can’t you just tell me?” I whined as she stood up. 

“Because I am the Yoda to your Luke Skywalker. Wise you are, patience you must have, my young Padawan.”

“I am not a Jedi who is going on a self discovery journey to start using the Force,” I countered. “I am a nervous wreck who can’t handle being alone with Harvey Specter.”

“Then you need to get over it because Harvey is not going to berate you on your first case!” She argued.

“Did you not hear what he said to Griffin? Or-or to Thomas when he suggested that we consider taking the deal that Mr. Saros had offered during the mock trial? He cracked them wide open and left them to bleed. What about with Mike? How many times has he almost sent him to the curb for not being able to find what Harvey needs?”

“Mike is different and you know it,” Donna lowered her voice. “Plus he always says shit like that to light a fire under his ass. Harvey can see that you are nervous to work with him. He isn’t going to hang you out to dry, I promise. He stood up for you, Claudia, in a way I’ve only seen him do with me and Mike. You know how much he cares about us.”

“Well, yeah of course. But you’ve worked for him for fifteen years and Mike almost seven now. You have a relationship with him and established trust. How am I supposed to have that with him when I can’t even look him in the eye?” “It comes with time, Claudia,” she rubbed my shoulder. “But if there is anything I can say to get you to trust the process, Harvey is loyal, almost to a fault sometimes. He will stop at nothing to make sure the people he cares about are taken care of. I can see that he wants that for you because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have given a shit if Griffin stole the file or not.”

Donna walked away after smoothing down some of the hair on my head, disappearing behind the corner. I let out a huff. She was right, I was being a little over dramatic.

Harvey had a reputation, though. How was I supposed to know if- no. This is unrelated to anything going on. Sort of. I just need to focus on the case. 

I pulled out the files and looked over them again, compiling all the notes into one space for easy recall. As I was looking through it, I found a loophole in one of the contracts that unbound our client from having to give up half of her company.

____

I paced up and down Harvey’s office, tapping my file in my hand as I went through all my key points in my head for today’s trial. I needed to lure, or bait rather, the witnesses into my questions to get them to admit to trespassing on our clients property. We had everything we needed; security footage, witnesses to testify on our behalf… Everything was all lined up. I just needed to blow it. 

I could do this, right? I had only spent all night doing a fake run of how today would go in my mirror, but then again anything could happen when I got into that courtroom today. Maybe they had another leg on us, maybe there was another witness they had to testify against us.

God dammit, if I screwed up today I wouldn’t get another case. Probably not ever again unless I packed up all my shit and moved to Iowa. 

Having Harvey there didn’t make me feel better. I thought it would, but as we worked together I realized he only made me more nervous. I couldn’t help it, he just looked at me this way I couldn't describe. It was incredibly annoying, I don’t know how Mike does it. Or Donna. Or Jessica or Louis or-

Jesus focus, Claudia. I rubbed my eyes with my thumbs. Just focus focus focus. I’ve been over it a million times. I could do this. I didn’t have a choice, court was in less than half an hour. 

“Claudia,” Harvey ripped me from my concentration, making me jump. “Sorry to startle you. Are you ready for today?” “Not really,” I admitted. “I am kind of freaking out, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he eased me to sit next to him. “What are you so nervous for?”

I chuckled, “Everything.” “Okay,” he gave a half-hearted laugh. “What specifically? Just name one thing that you are worried about.”

“I don’t know- forgetting cross examination questions? Screwing up the order so it doesn’t lead him into our trap? A billion things could go wrong and I’m not sure what to do if I freeze or stutter. What if the jury or the opposing counsel laughs at me?”

“That is not gonna happen, Claudia,” Harvey reassured. “You have prepared some amazing questions, you’ve got this in the bag.” “You know, I much prefer to stay in the background and do research. I don’t think I’m cut out to handle court stuff this is-”

“Hey,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him. He grabbed my trembling hand and held it between his own. My body went completely rigid, chest puffing in and out with heavy breaths. “You are going to do great today, I know it, Claudia. You are prepared, capable, and even more prepared. This is always what you’ve wanted to do, isn’t it?” I just nodded. Over the past week and a half of working together, I had told him what made me want to be a lawyer in the first place. About how I saw my best friends’ parents' business completely ruined by a group of robbers and their insurance did nothing to help them.

It made me so sad for them, made me feel so sick that I knew I had to do something to help them. I did my research and then brought it to them. They brought it to their lawyer and ended up getting a settlement for far more than they were ever gonna get. All because of me and my discovery that I made on my computer when I was thirteen.

“Okay. Think back to teenage Claudia for a moment. I bet she dreamed of being in this exact position. Where she can help people and give the sorry bastards who put them there a taste of their own medicine. Well, Claudia, here you are. Your very first case. Your very first helping hand. Your very first entrance into the world of the law. And you are going to absolutely shake up those witnesses, blindside them so hard they won’t have a choice but to tell the truth. This is your moment, Claudia’s moment. Don’t let fear take it from you, okay?” Again, all I could do was nod. And think about how warm his hand was in mine. We stood and he let go, leading me out of the office and down to his car waiting for him in front of the building. Ray, his driver, greeted me sweetly as I settled into the back seat with Harvey.

I flipped through my cards over and over and over on our way to the court house. Harvey snatched them from me. “Hey!” “You know the material,” he gave me a pointed look, sliding them in the breast pocket of his jacket. 

“I know but-” “There is no but,” he shrugged. “Have just one ounce of confidence, Claudia. Trust yourself.”

All of whatever I had been reading was swept from my mind as he placed his palm on my knee. I hadn’t realized it was bouncing up and down until he pressed against it to stop its movements. I tried to sit still, but I just started picking at my nails instead. 

“Claudia,” he said in a stern, commanding voice. I stopped my fidgeting, laying my hands flat in my lap. “Good, just relax. Everything will be alright.”

Highly doubtful. He was playing a dangerous game, and we both knew it. But neither of us said anything as he left his hand there the entire car ride. 

____

“After the conclusion of today’s trial, the jury here finds Fulton Dynamic guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering with intent to steal inside information.”

I felt the tension deflate from my body, eyes fluttering shut as the judges whacked the wooden disk on his stand. He said something, but I couldn’t even hear over the roar in my ear. Holy shit we won…

“Claudia,” Harvey shook my shoulder. I snapped my eyes to him. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. 

I rested my head back against the seat, eyes focused on the window outside so I wouldn’t throw up. Man did I hate getting car sick every time I looked at my phone when in a car. The city lights were bright and fierce, unrelenting all hours of the day. Why on god's green earth did I decide to move to New York? Out of all the places I could’ve gone to work as an associate in this state, why did I choose the city? I hate the city. I’ve always hated the-

“Yoo-hoo,” I heard from my side. I lifted my exhausted head and gave Harvey a look. “Did you hear anything I said?”

‘Oh… n-no I’m sorry,” I stiffened, giving him my full attention. “What were you talking about?”

“I was just saying that you did a great job today, Claudia. You kicked ass in there,” he smiled.

“Thanks, Mr. Specter.” I just let out a sigh.

“You don’t think so?”

“Not really.” Anxiety swirled in my chest. Tears pricked my eyes and nose. 

“Why not? Claudia, you gave one of the best cross examinations I think I’ve ever seen. And the way you handled Cayhill? Defended Devlyn from those accusations? It was masterful.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Silence hung between us. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “You did great today.”

“I was a complete idiot when I was defending Devlyn. I was way too animated and let my emotions get the best of me. For Christ's sake Judge Peterson gave me a warning.”

“I want you to take a guess at how many warnings judges give me when I’m the one in there leading the case.”

“You’re Harvey Specter, of course you… get a lot.”

“You right, I do get a lot. But that isn’t a bad thing. And I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you-” “That’s the problem,” I snapped. “You have been doing this for seventeen years and I’ve been doing it for ten days. I’ve barely got my toe in the water and I’ve already shown other lawyers and firms that I can’t keep my cool.”

“Claudia, you are passionate. I don’t see that as a huge problem in the courtroom. There needs to be a level of pushback from attorneys because if you, of all people on someone’s legal team, aren’t going to fight back, then you might as well be fired. Because you are the only person some people have hope for. You have to be aggressive and assertive sometimes to get the job done.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“I am going to teach you,” Harvey’s words completely short circuited my brain. 

“What do you mean?”

“Claudia, I think you’re going to be a great lawyer, even without my help. I know you struggle with confidence and that is all I want to help you with. To get some leverage over these other associates so you can climb that ladder.”

“I can’t just magically pull a wagon load of confidence out of my ass overnight,” I shook my head, folding my hands tightly together. “I don’t see how you can help me.”

The car pulled up outside the building and Harvey let out a sigh. Great. Now I’ve pissed him off, too. That’s exactly what I needed to do was piss off Harvey Specter after a great win. In all honesty, it had been a good day. I didn’t fumble the ball like I was going to, but this was completely taking away from them.

My door opened. Harvey looked down at me from outside and extended his hand. When did he get out of the car? I hesitantly took it, getting out and shutting the door behind me.

“Claudia,” Harvey started. “You need to learn to let go. To put the bad moments behind you.” “I can’t.” “Which is why you and I are going to go back up there and have a drink. Get to know each other a little bit so we can start building that trust. I know I intimidate you, and I try like hell to be as calm as I can around you, but one day Louis or Jessica or Donna is going to come into my office and give me some bad news. You might be there and see how I handle it. You might not, but I don’t want you to be afraid of that happening to you.”

“And how can I be sure that if I come up with a plan one day, and it falls through and goes to shit, you won’t flip out on me or fire me or-or-”

“Because I won’t. I give you my word. But I need yours as well.”

“Need my word, why?” “I need to know that you won’t think I’m a monster if you’re in the room and I lose my cool.”

I’ve never thought Harvey was a monster to begin with. I’ve always admired his ability to shut off his feelings and get the dirty work done. Of course I’ve seen that side of him a time or two, but never catastrophic like some of the stories I’ve heard from the third and fourth years.

“You have my word.”

The elevator chime brought me out of my spiraling momentarily to walk to Harvey’s office. The firm was empty, not even Jessica was here. He led me to his office and got to work on the drinks. My eyes wandered from him to the view through the window. This was the only part of the city I might’ve let myself enjoy from time to time. 

“Donna was right, you do have a lot of music,” I noted, taking in the wall filled with vinyl records. She mentioned it when I was caught with my head buried in a book in the library, some random Beatles song blasting so loud she could hear it down the hall. 

“You’re just now noticing that?” “Well, I haven’t exactly been in your office for anything other than to work on this case so… no I guess I never really noticed.”

“You can pick something to listen to, if you’d like.” He was gonna let me touch his records? This place was like a museum; autographed basketballs and baseballs, art hanging on the wall. “Or you can just stare at it.”

I flushed, picking up a record at random and handing it to him. In exchange, he handed me a glass a third full of whisky. I smelled it, it kind of made me scrunch my nose. I didn’t drink often; most of the time I was too tired to even feed myself let alone consume alcohol.

When I took a sip, I actually didn’t mind the taste. It was smooth, simple in flavor and didn’t burn too bad. Quite nice, for all it’s worth. 

There was a couch along the wall of records that I fixed myself on, Harvey taking the time to remove his tie and lay it across his desk before sitting across from me on one of the chairs. I toed off my pumps and set them on the floor beside the table. God damn did my feet hurt. 

“Do you do this with all the new associates?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs while I took up the couch. 

“I mean, when you think they’re ready, do you give them a case and help them get their foot in the door?”

“No, no I don’t,” Harvey admitted. “Louis is in charge of the associates. You know that.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “But I just thought that there was some deal between you guys: you have a mock trial with the new associates, whichever team wins gets to give a case to the best performing associate.”

Harvey laughed. I didn’t even know he knew how to do that. “Oh, Claudia, you really are that innocent, aren’t you?” My throat collapsed on itself. What did I say?

“Relax,” he set his glass down, swallowing his sip. “Yes, we do a fake trial every year for the first years, but we don’t just give them cases when they win. No one in their right mind would give a first year associate, fresh out of law school, the time of day. Normally they have to prove themself down the line, after years and years of loyalty to this firm to get their first case. And it’s usually pretty easy pro-bono shit.” I had to stop and think for a moment before I could speak. “You keep saying normally, usually… What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying, Claudia, is that in my decade plus of working here, I’ve never seen an associate who busts their ass quite like you. Who takes every ounce of bullshit from Louis and turns it into the Mona Lisa.”

“I think that everyone does tha-”

“No,” he cut me off. A stern look in his eyes, lips in that crooked line. “No they don’t. Not like you. You put your head down, get into it, and don't come up until you’ve found what you were looking for and thensome. You go above and beyond every time. You don’t go to Louis begging for more work, he brings it to you, and only you, because he knows he can count on you. Which means I know I can count on you, too.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I kind of just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. To make me evaporate and never see the light of day again. 

“Thank you, Mr. Specter. But I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but I am not very good in the spotlight. I don’t do well with… all of this.”

“I know, but I’m glad that you are trying anyway,” his smile was very charming. In a way that made his eyes crinkle. “So, besides giving a hell of a cross examination, what else do you like to do for ‘fun’?” 

“Well, for starters, your definition of fun, and mine, are going to be very different. I am a very solitary person, I don’t need to be around people to have a good time. Most of the time I prefer to go do things by myself because I find when I ask, people already have plans, or they’re faking having plans so they don’t have to hang out with me. I can’t tell what is the truth and what isn’t so I stopped asking… that was totally not what you asked. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“Go ahead, talk about whatever you want. I won’t judge you.”

A small part of me believed that he wouldn’t. A tiny, microscopic part. 

“There is nothing like the feeling of getting lost in a good book. I’m a complete sucker for a cliche rom-com where the bad guy gets the good girl.”

Harvey let out a dramatic puff of air, laughing into the space around us. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” I chuckled. 

“I’m not, it’s just lame. Come on, what do you really like to do for fun?”

“That is what I really like to do for fun,” I let my hand fall to the cushion beside me. “I told you, I am not a very interesting person. I don’t have time for a whole lot of anything other than working here so… Most of my hobbies have been put on the back burner through grad school and working nonstop.”

“If you could be any type of sea creature, what would you be?” 

“What does that literally have anything to do with anything we were just talking about?”

“It doesn’t,” Harvey smiled. “I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know, a jellyfish?”

“Really?” He questioned, one brow rising higher than the other. “I’d be a great white shark.”

“Of course you would,” I snickered. “Harvey Specter, the Great White of New York. If you wanted to be a real predator that no one fucks with, you should be an Orca.” “A whale?” “The killer whale,” I corrected. “They put sharks in the obituary for fun, you know. They sink yachts for fun, too. If you really want to be on top, be an Orca. No one in their right minds fucks with an Orca. They’re intelligent and not afraid of anything.”

“Aww, you think I’m intelligent and not afraid of anything?” Harvey mewled. 

“Well, duh you’re Harvey Specter.” Everyone knew it. Harvey was the baddest cat in the sky, you didn’t approach him without giving him your respect. Cause if you didn’t, a whole boat load of shit will be coming your way. 

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there is more to Harvey Specter than the title my name comes with.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “Harvey Specter, badass attorney and the best closer New York has ever seen, killer whale of the corporate world.” Harvey couldn’t keep his laugh inside, sending the rumbling noise into the office. I made Harvey laugh, and I have for the past however many minutes. 

“You left out the part where I’m devastatingly attractive and charming,” his smirk was nothing short of either of those things. Devastating and charming. It cut through me like a hot knife. I knew I blushed because his eyes went to my cheeks and that spot at the base of my throat that always gives it away. 

My fingers tapped away anxiously at the glass in my hands, fingernails rattling against its crystal surface. 

“It’s late I should… I should go.” Great, now I’m flustered and stuttering. As quickly as I could, I threw my heels back on and reached for my coat. 

“Claudia-”

“Thank you for the drink, and for all your help on the case,” I hurried out, trying to not let my voice break and give away all the things I wanted to say. “Have a good night, Mr. Specter.”

“Claudia.” His voice commanded, stopping my movements. I held still on the couch, drinking in his stare. “Stay.”

“Mr. Specter I really should-”

“Harvey,” he bit out a little harshly. “Stop calling me Mr. Specter.”

“I’m sorry. Harvey, it’s late.” He just nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “And?”

“It’s been a long day and I think we should both go and get some much deserved rest,” I spoke quietly, resuming my nail picking from earlier. 

“Do you really want to leave?” 

It was such a loaded question. Yes, absolutely I wanted to fucking leave. But there was something deep in his eyes, deep in his voice that made me want to stay and explore. My heart was hammering in my chest. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, no matter how much I wanted to look away. It was impossible. 

“I don’t think you do,” he answered for me. “I told you I was going to help build your confidence.”

You never told me how, jackass, I thought. I swallowed, nothing going down, but I did it anyway. Harvey threw back what was left of his whisky and sat back, knees far apart, fingers drawing patterns on the arm rests of the chair. 

“Come here, Claudia.” What? “You heard me.”

Shit, I must’ve said it out loud. If I thought my heart was racing before, it sure as hell was halfway around the world now. Legs trembling, I rose. Why the fuck did I stand up? It wasn’t too late to make a beeline for the door and pray he didn’t catch up. Then again, it wasn’t like I could escape him, we worked in the same fucking building. On the same floor. 

When I came to a halt, a few feet in front of him, he held out his hand, palm up. As I put my fingers in his grasp, there was nothing I could do. Harvey yanked me to him, other hand catching my hip as I collapsed into him with a yelp. 

“Straddle my thigh,” he ordered. Something about the way his voice went down my spine made me obey. With extreme hesitance, I moved one leg on each side of his, lowering myself. I didn’t dare put all of my weight down. And he knew it because his hands came up to my hips and forced me all the way. 

“Sir, what are you-”

“Do not call me Sir unless you are ready to deal with those consequences.” His fingers dug into the exposed skin on my thigh, eyes full of his pupils. 

“Harvey, what are you doing? We shouldn’t be doing… whatever this is,” I tried to defuse the situation as best I could, but there was such a seriousness written in his features I wasn’t sure I could sway him. Maybe I didn’t want to, either. 

“How does it feel?” He asked.

I blinked, “H-How does what feel, Harvey?”

He smiled at the use of his name on my tongue. I hadn’t really ever called him by his first name.

“To have one of the most powerful men in the city underneath you, bent to your will?”

When I did look away from his face, to where I was seated on his lap, I felt my stomach start to twist and mold into something new. I did have Harvey Specter underneath me. Granted, at his own command, but still…

“And before you even think about it, no. I don’t do this with all the other associates.”

“Then why me?” My voice was a barely there whisper, gaze averted from his until his thumb caught my chin and made me look into his eyes. 

“Because I see something else in you that I don’t think anyone realizes. And I know the world will never see it unless you start believing in yourself and take control of the cards you’ve been dealt.”

I took a moment to steady my breath, and my uncontrollable thoughts. “And you think that whatever this is… you think this is going to help with that?”

Harvey shrugged, “I am in no way forcing you to be here, am I?”

My blush came creeping back. Of course he wasn’t forcing me to be here. I shook my head, my face just inches from his. I felt oddly relaxed under his touch.

“And I am not stopping you from getting up and leaving right now. It’s your choice, Claudia, but I think you want to be here, on my lap. Because if you didn’t, you would’ve already left.”

God dammit I hated this cocky son of a bitch. Was he right? Yes. Of fucking course he was. But the way his mouth curled up was dangerous. This was dangerous, and utterly a horrible idea. Was I really about to sit here, on one of my bosses thighs? He did look pretty good under me, shirt unbuttoned the top three, cologne wafting into the air every time he moved his head. 

Harvey’s hands came back to my hips as he leaned up.

“So, are you going to get up and leave? Or, are you going to ride my thigh while I tell you how pretty you look?” His breath tickled my ear, his lips trailing the space just below. I couldn’t help the shudder that went through my whole body, and I knew Harvey felt it because he cooed.

As I adjusted myself, I couldn’t help the movement, his breath on my skin was making me flutter, Harvey moved my hips back and forth. I felt the air take from my throat. The material of his pants against my core wracked through me. So unexpectedly I found myself pressing closer to him so I wouldn’t fall off. 

“That’s it, Claudia…” His voice was sickly sweet with praise. Harvey moved to fiddle with the front of his pants, and when I went to look, he caught my chin. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Harvey this… this isn’t the best idea,” I kept trying to reason. Not necessarily with him, but with myself. Obviously he wanted it, so why was I trying to convince myself to go?

“So?”

“This could have some serious implications if we don’t-”

He laughed against my neck, placing a few kisses right over where I always blushed. “Claudia, Claudia, Claudia. This is exactly what I have been talking about. You are wound far too tightly with concern. You need to let go, need to be out of control with something in your life.”

“Let me guess, that something is going to be you?”

“Only if you want it to be,” he said. “Look Claudia, I know we don’t exactly always see eye to eye on things, and we sure as hell haven’t really worked together, but that doesn’t make me less sure about this. About you. If you are having doubts, and this isn’t what you want, then walk away and we never have to talk about it ever again. But I think there is a part of you that really likes seeing me under you. That likes knowing you can make me this way.”

“And what if I do?” Harvey was right. God dammit he was right and he knew it. I looked and saw just what I had been doing to him. 

“Then just let yourself enjoy it because I know I want to.”

Man, he was quite the smooth talker. My resolve crumbled and I gave in. No, I didn’t give in, I made the choice to let this happen. Harvey wanted this too, for some reason known only to the great mother and beyond. This was not going to end well, I don’t know why I thought so, but I just know this is going to cause a problem down the road. Maybe it’ll be a good one, maybe it won’t– Jesus I need to get out of my head before I start thinking into oblivion. 

Harvey rolled his eyes, hand cupping the side of my face before his lips met mine. The gasp I let out… I could feel his smile. He guided my hand into the front of his pants, but did nothing else. Just left it there. 

When I tried to pull away, he bit my lip and pulled me right back in. Finger pressing into the front of my throat. In a commanding, possessive way that made my stomach burn with desire. 

I slowly traced around the outline of him. My fingers were trembling so fiercely that I wasn’t sure they were moving at all. As best I could control them, I made my way up to the waistband of his briefs, just… testing the waters. 

“You’re so close to where I need you,” Harvey purred, eyes looking at my surly swollen lips. “Go on, sweetheart, don’t be shy.”

I guess there really was no turning back. As my hand ventured further, I ducked down and swept my tongue into his mouth. He approved very enthusiastically. Harvey continued to guide my hips back and forth and back and forth across his thigh. All too gently, all too slowly. One of his hands kept working my hip, the other camp up around my throat.

How could he know that was one of my weakest sides? It didn’t prevent any air, but it was a firm reminder. 

His breath broke our searing lips when I moved my thumb over the tip of his cock. Harvey’s grip tightened on my throat and a noise slipped through my mouth. There was little I could do to keep my eyes from lulling back, head going with it. He made an effort to weave his fingers between my locks and pulled. A lot harder than I think he actually meant to. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured against my ear, sending goosebumps down my neck and arms. “I can’t help myself when you make such pretty noises. I’ll be gentle.”

I huffed out a laugh, as best I could with the straight against my neck. “I don’t mind.”

“Those are dangerous words, Claudia,” he warned, bringing my head back up. His eyes were dark in a way I couldn’t process in that moment. His lips were red and his hair was a mess from my fingers. 

I tugged at him as emphasis for my earlier words. “I don’t mind you being rough with me.”

His eyes closed, and his jaw clenched. I continued my motions, slow and long, drawing divine noises from him. Even with his hands away from my hips, I still moved them, picking up pace with my hand. I took the liberty to occupy his mouth with my own, hopefully filling him with euphoria. It was fast, and quite messy. My hair was sticking to the back of my neck with sweat, and I could taste it on his skin when I couldn’t help but trail my tongue up his throat. 

Harvey murmured my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t now, not with the constant moans and praise from his tongue. ‘Just like that sweetheart’, ‘I know that pretty mouth of yours will feel so much better wrapped around my cock’, ‘Can’t wait to take you apart’.

With his release, warm and wet over the back of my hand, he stilled my hips. Fingers digging in. At some point my skirt rode up, or he tugged it over my ass, and his nails left long lines of scratches. I hissed, and Harvey was breathing deep.

Harvey’s grin was nothing short of animalistic as he looked at where my hand still connected us. “Look at that, sweetheart. Look how well you’ve done.”

I could do nothing to keep my blood from rushing to my face. When I moved my hand– not entirely sure if I should get up and clean it off– Harvey snatched my wrist. 

“Open.”

I was going to question him, but I watched his eyes flick over my surely swollen lips. I flushed deeper. And deeper again as he moved them into my mouth. Bitter, but not in a bad way. And If I had been thoroughly fucked, I’d undoubtably find it irresistible. 

“Good girl, Claudia.”

There would be no way to recover from hearing that. I shuddered, so hard I clamped his thigh between my own, and whimpered. Like I had never before. And his stare… the way his eyes watched my tongue circle over my fingers. As they watched me swallow him down. 

“I bet you didn’t even realize,” he tilted his head, tucking hair behind my ear, flopping it behind my shoulder. 

“Realize…what?”

“How you took control. How confident you were with your hand… with that wicked tongue of yours. It was like it was second nature for you, wasn’t it? I didn’t even have to tell you to keep moving your hips. You just did it.”

I didn’t even know I was doing most of it… It all just happened. At some point or another. 

“I wouldn’t say that I was confi-”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You were. And that feeling, of being in control, is what you need to feel when you are in the courtroom. You were able to do it here, with me, to me. It was the most powerful and direct I’ve ever seen you.”

“Sex and being a lawyer aren’t exactly the same thing.”

“No, but you were able to feel safe and let yourself go. To release all that potential and work miracles.”

“You’d consider me giving you an orgasm a miracle?”

He chuckled, leaning so his lips brushed against mine. “Your hands do miraculous things to me, Claudia. I don’t normally give myself to someone the way I did with you. I didn’t have any second thoughts about it because I knew how willing you’d be to please me. And god damn do I love watching you pleasure yourself for me.”

In the minutes that followed, Harvey stood me up and straightened out my skirt. He did give me some hand sanitizer until I could go to the bathroom. I watched as he tucked in his shirt, buttoning his pants and rolling the sleeves back up his arms. 

“Harvey?”

“Yes, Claudia?” His voice was much more mellow. 

“How often is this… you know. Gonna happen?”

He smirked, “Why, already picturing yourself on your knees for me?”

I wasn’t, but I sure as hell was now. One thing that I needed to learn to do was control my facial reactions because judging by the way his stepped closer, he could see that I was, in fact, picturing his hand in my hair while he forced me to take it down my-

“Oh sweet sweet Claudia,” he chuckled, tilting up my chin. “You really are that eager to please me.”

“I was just wondering when you were going to return the favor.”

Harvey seized my throat, tighter than he had before. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I will have my name dripping from your tongue for so long you will forget it completely and beg for mercy. And when you beg for it, just know that you won’t get it until I say you do.”

[fearnesbells]

so about that laudna-has-no-future 4sd chat...

marisha ray has throwaway lines and that is her god given right like anyone else and truly this may mean nothing

BUT

me personally i bluescreened when marisha said "what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead" in response to a question of would laudna rather make contact with her future or past self.

i think laudna and her evolving worldview over the course of this campaign is sooooooo interesting so thoughts under the cut

"the worst thing that’s ever happened to me has already happened."

we all remember this! this is the response that laudna gave to orym when he softly pointed out that laudna seemed like she had the most positive outlook of the group. it was a central tenet of laudna's character up until that point, that despite the darkness that coated her soul, she was probably the one with the most zest for life.

she tended to believe the best in npcs that the party encountered. she had a rat marionette that got boners and made her laugh. she was wholeheartedly devoted to imogen and never, never believed that the end was the end.

and then, when orym asked her how she accomplished that, she responds in a framing of perspective.

she was murdered by the briarwoods at twenty years old. how can anything seem awful in comparison to that?

she died, and then she got to join an adventuring party. she died, and then she got to use her strange, eerie powers for good. she died, and then she met imogen.

she has hope because she's seen the lowest possible point her life can come to, and can only climb upwards from there.

she had a hope for a future, because of this. a good future. at least one that was better than the worst thing that had ever happened to her. and that future included imogen—

"can keep you from that. can keep us from that."

she had hope.

we all know this quote. this quote is the cottagecore lesbian life that marisha spoke to in four-sided dive. but i think to look at where laudna's at now, and to understand "what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead", we have to look at the quote in greater context.

laudna is speaking to a possible future here. but in her words she's also saying that she understands that that future might mean abandoning what they feel called to do by the gods. in this moment, she's not guaranteeing a future, she's explaining to imogen that they have a choice.

and as of now, episode 82, arrived on the moon, they've made that choice. they're orpheus. they've descended into hell, and they can't look back if they want to make it out.

it's important to note that laudna wasn't lying way back in heartmoor when she was talking to orym. the worst thing that could ever happen to her had already happened. but she was operating then on her very human understanding of the world.

since then, she's died (again), been resurrected, seen magic beyond comprehension, and surrendered herself over to the spirit of her murderer that lives in her head.

there are no rules anymore. and laudna has learned that there is always something worse.

the quiet life she talked about with imogen might have been taken from her forever. the narrative has grown teeth and it has sunk them into both her and the woman she loves.

"what does laudna have to look forward to, she's dead"

she's orpheus, yeah? we know how this story ends. her love's been called to the hell planet by fate. she won't get out without losing something.

maybe—maybe—there's still hope for that cottage together somewhere. i don't mean to rule it out entirely. but i think that laudna herself, the character, has lost all belief in that possibility at this point. and that presents such a foil to the laudna that we met in episode 1.

sometimes the tragedy comes built-in.

even if. even when.

(all quotes pulled from critical role wiki's transcripts page)

[justawritterwithideas]

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ previous part | next part ✩

summary: Things start to get a little tense when Y/N and Spencer have to come face to face to find the person who wants to hurt her, but a clue leads to the total breakdown of everything.

general warnings: this series contains topics such as mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers.

chapter warnings: this chapter contains strong language, confrontations, mentions of murder, among other similar things. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

words: 4,380 words.

a/n: hi guys, after days there's finally a new chapter of boy wonder and the rockstar, yay. sorry for the delay but it's been weeks without creativity, but finally i can upload a decent chapter. sorry if it's a bit (too) dramatic, but put yourselves in y/n's shoes, ok? this chapter has strong confrontations and a little bit of plot change, but don't worry, in the next chapter everything will calm down, trust me. thanks in advance for the love and also for the support for the previous chapters, see ya!

𝟎.𝟑: 𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧.

Sometimes, our mind plays tricks on us, like remembering those embarrassing moments in life, but not remembering the formula to do an equation; remembering what that person told you and that marked you forever, but not remembering what your mother asked you to do.

Sometimes, also, destiny plays tricks on us.

Those times when you ask, please, that the earth swallow you up and spit you out anywhere else but there, that it take you to the deepest part of the planet and disappear until everyone forgets you exist.

I think that concept was the exact way to describe what Y/N and Spencer were experiencing after coming face to face, after 15 years.

On the one hand, the astonishment of the girl's friends and on the other, the confusion of the boy's friends.

Face to face, facing the reunion and the various emotions they experienced from head to toe.

"Reid, do you two know each other?" Emily's voice made them both turn in her direction, but Spencer without even being able to bring himself to answer, the words were snatched from his mouth and taken up by the opposite.

"It's not something I'm interested in being honest, but us knowing each other doesn't affect the investigation, does it?"

Bang, first bullet.

"No, it doesn't affect."

Spencer glanced in the blonde's direction, crossing glances again for the second time that day.

That warm look she always gave him when they met had become the iciest anyone had ever given him.

Bang, second bullet.

"Miss Autumn... Or Y/N?"

"I'm both, I don't mind being called one way or the other." The girl looked in the direction of the group of people, who were watching her trying to decipher where she and the tall one knew each other from. To divert attention, she changed the subject. "Please sit down, I feel a little embarrassed that you are up and we are sitting down." Commented the girl.

The group of people settled around the four individuals seated on the large couch.

But Spencer's eyes did not move from the girl, who stirred uneasily in her seat.

Y/N was more nervous about the presence of the man she hadn't seen in years than about what had just happened a couple of hours ago.

Her hands were shaking, her heart was pounding in the bottom of her chest, she was out of breath and her mouth felt dry, as if she had run a marathon.

She knew that at some point she would meet that boy, the thing is she didn't think it would be so soon. The situation they were in wasn't the best, and even less so with the context behind it, but clearly fate didn't care what was happening and made them meet despite Y/N's prayers not to meet the one-who-must-not-be-named again.

Spencer looked more mature, even though he was always mature for his age. She remembered that he used to do the fee slip for some older friends that Y/N used to have, plus he knew how to think maturely regarding his decisions; not like her, who chose her hair color based on which box of dye was cheapest in the market, but Spencer always said she looked good in any color.

"Miss Y/N." The woman's lost gaze went in the direction of the blonde girl speaking to her, blinking quickly to focus.

"Yes? Sorry, I was just thinking..." Her gaze went from side to side, noting that they were expectant of her answer. "Excuse me, what was the question?"

A sigh came out of Tyler's mouth, who was leaning against the back of the couch. One thing the guitarist hated was the police, more so the feds so, them being there was not at all to his liking.

"I was asking what you did prior to you getting the box."

"Oh yeah, well we were coming from a sound check of the venue where we would be performing. We did that and then we would go to lunch, but before that we were going to stop by the hotel for a change of clothes. I walked into the front desk and was talking to Felix, but before I got on the elevator the receptionist told me that a package had arrived in my name." The girl let out a soft sigh, refocusing on her story. "I wasn't surprised that a package would suddenly arrive, usually information about where you are and who you're with usually travels faster than light, plus it's not the first time it's happened to me."

"What do you mean it's not the 'first time it's happened to you'?" J.J. asked again.

"Well, usually brands contact the band's marketing people days in advance to find out where we are to send packages, to use at concerts or interviews as part of the publicity. It's not the first time a brand has sent a package to a hotel for us to receive." Suddenly, Y/N's face became a bit of an enigma to people. "Even though I was surprised that it was addressed to me, usually they tend to address it to Gerald because he is the manager, they don't usually expose our personal information because of possible leaks."

"That's true, they always send packages in my name by protocol, it's part of the contract that is signed with the brand at the time of sending it." Gerald stated.

"So them sending packages in your name is not a normal thing, is it?" asked Emily.

"That's right, there are usually packages that come with letters inside that indicate who they are addressed to, you know... 'Dear Autumn or Dear Paradox'." Spencer's gaze went in the direction of the pictures in the package and then to the girl in front of him, who looked distracted at the rings on her fingers.

None looked like a wedding or engagement ring, Spencer thought.

Even though that thought quickly faded, it was unprofessional to think about it when a madman was after her and sending her ghoulish gifts.

"So the person thinks they're close to you, or they're a person from the past who was close to you." Commented Tara, who simply kept leaning against a wall.

"It's kind of hard, a lot of the people who were close to me suddenly cut off contact or are stuck with me, like this group." A fake laugh escaped Y/N's lips, glancing in the direction of Reid, who was lowering his gaze.

Bang, final punchline.

"Thank you, miss. We know it's important information you've just given us, but we'll still have to conduct an interrogation with all of you separately." Before anyone could protest, Emily continued. "This way we can rule them out as suspects, we know they wouldn't hurt Y/N, but this way we can start working quickly and efficiently to find the culprit, before it gets any bigger."

"What do you mean by 'bigger'?"

Y/N looked in the direction of the woman in the suit, who simply let out a sigh.

"That it might come to hurt someone in your circle or... you."

All the air in Y/N's throat shot out, feeling her insides stir at what the woman had just said.

They could hurt her friends just by being friends with her, the only family she had left just by being close to her.

"Thank you agents." Gerald stood up as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he had to warn the management straight about the risk of the tour at this point.

This was a disaster, a complete disaster.

It had been a couple of hours since the agents had set up at the hotel.

Since that couple of hours, Spencer had not been able to cross a single word with Y/N.

It wasn't because they wouldn't let him, on the contrary, he'd had plenty of opportunities to do so.

But the words in his throat wouldn't come out, it was as if they were trapped and his brain wasn't working at all.

"How do you know Autumn, Boy wonder?"

Penelope's voice snapped Spencer out of his chimera.

"What are you talking about, Garcia?"

"Don't try to fool me, it's clear you two go way back. You knew who she was with just a glance and she confirmed it, even though you'd never seen who it was. You didn't even react when we saw her pictures at Quantico, you didn't seem to know who she was until she spoke here, so tell me now, how do you know her?"

The woman's hands went to her hips, implementing pressure to get Spencer to talk about what was going on.

Y/N and Spencer were a couple of feet away, but they seemed like they were miles apart.

"It's a long story." Spencer began.

"If you don't tell me, I'll investigate under my own steam and believe me now that Hotch is gone, I'm not going to stop."

"Well, Y/N and I have known each other since college. We were friends for a long time, exactly three years..." A long sigh took hold of Reid, who felt all the memories together fall like an avalanche of sensations and emotions, just like how it was when he was in college. "I think he was one of the few people who put up with me during this time and who supported me the most. But when I was accepted to the academy I promised not to cut off contact with her when I moved to Virginia..."

"So what happened, why did it seem like running into you is the most horrendous thing that ever happened to her, even though she got a human finger this morning?" Penelope's own questions were answered as she looked at Spencer's embarrassed face. "Don't tell me that... Oh no, Spencer."

"I stopped responding to her letters within a month of arriving in Virginia, cut off all contact with her."

It seemed that admitting it made the pain stronger and stronger, like a stake through his stomach and his whole body.

"Why, Spence, why did you do that?"

"Well, the truth is-"

"Guys, there's security camera footage. Penelope we need you."

They both looked at each other before they could make their way to where everyone was.

They were all standing around the computer, where it was clear on the monitor screen as someone dressed as a courier dropped off the box, then handed a receipt to the receptionist and quickly left. Fast forwarding the recording, the moment where the band enters and the package is handed over can be seen.

"Well, the girl gets the package and then asks a question." Luke spoke aloud.

"She probably asks who sent it or who delivered it, to make sure it's for her." J.J. replied back.

"And then she goes to the elevator, the doors close and then..." The recording switches to the one in the hallway where the group is seen exiting the elevator heading to one of the hotel's private rooms. The new image is seen in the boardroom, where everyone is seen sitting around chatting and the woman opening the box.

The scene seemed orchestrated for a key scene in a horror movie: the girl screaming, holding her hands to her mouth and the others seeing the inside of the box, Felix trying to calm Y/N down, Tyler running out of the room, Gerald calling mortified to what appeared to be the police and Shawn calling on the phone in the room to what would be reception. In a quick lapse, the amount of people running in and out of the room is seen, leading people outside to leave the scene as close to what had just happened and soon stops when the police arrive, who do the procedure when faced with such situations.

"The group enters the room, Y/N opens the box, yells and soon everyone takes different stances with what they just saw, but no one touches the box except for Y/N..." Rossi watches Penelope replay the recording from the beginning, from receiving the package.

"I think it's common sense seeing that, I wouldn't touch a box with a human finger too." Garcia replied to Rossi.

Spencer watched everything in extreme detail, trying to figure out what he was missing. There was something that didn't add up to him, as if it was all set up to happen that way.

"Doesn't it look to you like everything was perfectly organized?" Spencer's voice made everyone turn to him. "Like everything all of a sudden was made to run like that, like that person wanted us to see what happened, every single thing that happened while we got there."

Every single movement of the band was on camera, from their departure from the hotel in the morning to their arrival at lunchtime; from when, Y/N, they received the package to when they opened it, what everyone in the band was doing at the time of the event and even after the event, every single movement was monitored by the cameras, every single one of them.

"It's as if that person knew their routine to the letter, every single schedule and activity..." At the time, all BAU members had one person in mind, the only person who could know every detail about them was the one who lived 24/7 with them.

"Thanks, big G." Y/N received the coffee between her hands, drinking it from the makeshift interrogation room. The five of them were looking at each other, trying to understand what they were doing there and how they had gotten there.

"I don't understand why they have us here, we haven't done anything. We've already told our story a bunch of times and to different people, what the fuck are they waiting for to free us? A divine miracle? For this crazy guy to come and turn himself in?" Tyler was the most dismayed at that moment, at any moment he was going to explode against anyone who stood in front of him.

"Stop it, Tyler. We're not getting anything out of your shitty attitude, they're shuffling through every possibility to rule us out of being a crazed psychopath out to hurt Y/N." Shawn gently patted Tyler to try to calm him down, but it seemed to have made him more prone to explode. "The more we help on this, the faster we can get out here and have a good nap."

"Shawn's right, guys. Let's try to make it easier for the agents to investigate, so we can get on with the tour as soon as possible." Gerald finished with his pack of gummies, tossing the wrapper in the trash.

"What did the bosses say regarding this?" Y/N's words made Gerald let out a sigh, sitting back in the chair where he was.

"As long as this won't calm down and that none of us were in danger, the tour will have to be paused or at worst, cancelled."

A wave of protests came out of the band's mouths, causing Gerald to have to pound the table to calm them down.

"Cancel it, G? We haven't been on stage for two years and to suddenly cancel it, our sales will go down." Tyler vociferated, rising from his seat.

"What's going to happen to the fans? We're going to disappoint them if we cancel it just like that, they've waited for four years for new music and two for a tour, are they going to keep us on indefinite hiatus again? You know how long we've waited for a tour, they know the level of fans we manage worldwide." Y/N was next to rant, bringing one of her hands to her hair to comb it.

"Can't you tell your fed friend to help us hurry this up?"

A current of electricity coursed through every part of Y/N's anatomy, who turned to look at Tyler for his words.

"No."

Y/N's words were harsher than breaking a diamond in two, causing the guitarist to raise his hands in a symbol of peace.

"Let's try to stay calm, guys. Let's not lose our peace, this will work out, I read that the BAU is one of the most prestigious groups in the FBI, they'll be able to solve this problem before this goes any bigger." Felix turned in Y/N's direction, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and invited her to sit next to him.

The silence and calm didn't last long as Spencer and Emily entered the room, along with two police officers.

"Officers, are you bringing news?" Shawn asked, before he could watch as the officers approached Gerald's chair.

"Mr. Gerald Murphy, you are under arrest for being the prime suspect in the crime committed-" Emily's voice made all four of them stand up from where they were.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Felix was the first to react, trying to stop them from slapping handcuffs on the oldest of them all.

"What are you talking about, he didn't do anything! Gerald!" Y/N's loud voice made Emily's voice sound in the background, which recited the rights he had and escorted him out of the room. "Gerald! Please!"

"Hey! You sons of bitches, he had nothing to do with it!" Tyler went after them, along with Shawn who had him by the hip so he wouldn't throw himself at them.

"Shawn, call corporate! This is a misunderstanding, calm down." Slowly, Gerald's voice became more and more distant.

"Gerald! Please, he didn't do anything!" Y/N was more agile than the officers, so she quickly wriggled out of their grip.

She still didn't get very far when familiar hands held her back from going outside, where a group of paparazzi were waiting for some action for the morning news.

"'Stop it, Y/N... Enough fighting." Spencer's voice made her fidget, trying to get out of his grip, but starting to tire after a few struggles.

"Let go of me, Reid. Stay out of it, he didn't do anything." The girl's slender hands went to the chestnut's wrists, making them downward to signal him to let go.

When the boy released her, it made Y/N turn in his direction.

She was angry.

No.

She was furious, her face was red with rage and her voice was shaking.

"What's the matter with you people!? You just took away an innocent person."

"The evidence places you as the possible perpetrator, Y/N." Spencer was trying to sound calm, occupying his most professional voice in front of the girl.

"What the fuck are you talking about! He was with us when I got the package! And the last two months since he started the tour! We would have noticed if it had been him." Y/N's hand movements indicated desperation and exaltation, Spencer could tell with her body language.

"Have you been with him in the moments he's been missing to do unofficial things? Or in the spare moments between rehearsals?"

Y/N's voice was replaced by silence, leaving the most obvious answer in evidence.

"That person can be dangerous, Y/N."

"Then why didn't he ever do anything to me? Why didn't he ever do anything to us?" Y/N folded her arms, still wearing that annoyed expression on her face.

"Because I use decoys to take out his anger."

"What do you mean, a-are there more people besides Bruno?" Her voice trembled at the recent news, bringing her hands to her face as she realized Spencer's facial expression hadn't changed at all at the bad news.

"At least eleven cases have been linked, Y/N."

There's that scary expression again, Spencer thought.

Y/N had to brace herself against a wall to keep from losing her balance, feeling a sensation rise from the pit of her stomach to her throat.

Even though he was aware of what was happening, there was one thing that was clear to him.

"Gerald wasn't, Spencer. I can bet my voice on it, he's innocent."

"Y/N, the evidence-"

"Fuck the evidence, Spencer! He didn't do it! He wouldn't be able to! He bet his whole career on a broke shitty band, he bet his life on us." Small salty tears began to fall down the cheeks of the girl, who faced the young man. "Someone who bet his life, his career, his fate on a band with no future couldn't do that."

"Y/N..."

"No, Spencer! He wasn't, that's my final word." The petite girl's small body walked past the taller one, bumping her shoulder against the other's arm as she left the scene.

"Please, Y/N, listen to me."

Despite Reid's long legs, he wasn't able to catch up to the young blonde who was disappearing inside the elevator.

Everyone's attention was around the heated exchange of words between the two, it was impossible to let go of the situation they had just witnessed and even more so with the end of it.

The man leaned against a wall, letting out a heavy sigh before he could turn around inside the room where his companions were.

"Spence, everything okay?" J.J approached his best friend, who looked somewhat upset from what had just happened.

"Everything's fine, J.J. She was upset about the situation that just happened." He commented giving a long sigh, looking in the direction of the elevator door where the girl had just disappeared. "It's all right, okay?"

A new silence surrounded them with the people in the place, watching each other's faces for the next move they were going to make. Spencer was touchy, everyone knew the singer was detonating something even they didn't know if they could handle, a side of Spencer they had never seen.

"Excuse me, Dr. Reid?"

The brown-haired man's gaze went in the direction of the door, where the boy they identified as Shawn was standing.

"Can we talk?"

The cigarette between Y/N's fingers was burning away as time went by. The icy wind on the terrace gave her goose bumps, but she tried to forget the event that had just happened.

They had arrested her only remaining family, accusing him of being the person who might be sending her those horrible obsessive messages and also accusing him of possibly hurting her.

Along with this, she had just run into the person she thought she had forgotten after 15 years and would now have to be with him behind 24/7.

Footsteps sounded behind her, causing her to let out a whimper and, without looking back, she blurted out.

"Felix, please. I want to be alone, what part of that don't you understand?"

The smoke in her lungs choked when she heard the answer.

"I don't think it's a good idea to be alone on a rooftop, Y/N."

The girl's body turned, watching the tall man behind her. He had his hands in his pockets and had that look on his face that made her get on her knees.

"Least I want to see you, Reid. It's already too much to share with you for the last few hours." She commented sullenly, taking one last puff on her cigarette and flicked it to the ground, stomping on it with the toe of her boot.

The contrarian's arms crossed her chest, starting to walk in the direction of the door that divided them from the elevator and the terrace.

"Y/N, listen to me." Spencer's hand caught one of the girl's arms, causing her to turn sharply to push him away.

"I have nothing to hear from you, Spencer. Unless it's to get Gerald released."

"Gerald may be the person who wants to hurt you, Y/N. I'm doing this to protect you."

"Protect me or make a wash of your image?"

"You know better than that, I would never do anything like that."

"How can I believe you? Liars don't change, Spencer. Do me a favor and let me go."

Y/N's attempt to flee had been interrupted, again, by the older man who wouldn't let go of her arm.

"Please, you have to listen to me."

"No Spencer. It's been long enough that we could talk, and now I have to listen to you because you want me to? What's happen with me, I have to ignore the fact that you didn't contact me for 15 years and now I have to act like we're lifelong friends? No Spencer, it won't happen."

"Y/N, this goes beyond that, it's import-"

"Important? This is more important than you erasing the idea that I ever existed? That we ever had such a strong friendship? That I supported you in every way you could think of, what about me, Spencer? Do I also have to forget all the damage you did to me when you disappeared? It's not fair." Y/N's cheeks burned, all the pent up anger she was going to take out on him. "It was always 'Spencer this, Spencer that' you, you and you. For once, in your life, stop thinking about yourself and think about me, for once in your fucking life!"

"Things aren't the way you think, stop imagining things that aren't."

"Then how were they? Explain to me how things were. Go ahead."

The atmosphere between the two was so tense that they could cut it with a knife, as if suddenly all time stopped for both of them.

Spencer had a chance to redeem his mistake, to prove that the reason things were done this way was not because of his own arrogance, but to protect her. To prove the point of his absence for so long, of cutting off contact so suddenly, that he had done things right and always, always, thinking of her.

But he didn't.

"It's not the place and time to do it, Y/N."

Spencer could see the hint of illusion Y/N had in her eyes fade, as her pupils went completely black and on her face neutrality returned.

"Right, because for you it's never the place and time to do it, Spencer." Before she could turn around, she came back to face him one last time. "The day you have enough pants to face the problem, that day talk to me but for now, don't you dare cross me unless it's to get Gerald back here."

For the second time that day, Spencer watched Y/N's blonde hair disappear behind the metal doors.

Just like the last scent of their past together.

@alexa-33 | @ahhhhyesk | @imthefuckingleader | @narmothewraith | @kneelforloki | @niyahwhoreworld | @lexie0037 | @deadunicorn159 | @corpsebridenightamare | @preciousbabypeter | @sakuramadae | @zzz000eee | @runefirestarter | @sebastiansstanswhore | @whateverrrrrrrrs | @xsarcasticwriterx | @chris-seb-marvel | @bellaramseygfsblog | @lillysbigwilly | @dezibou | @astrophileous | @ily2lia | @sophiario | @valenftcrush | @oxace-of-heartsxo | @spencerrxids | @w31rdg1rl | @ineedsomezzz | @yeehawbitchs | @coolstories66 | @baku-hoes-blog | @bollzinurmouth | @louderfortheback | @flowersownme | @venomsvl | @strawberry--fawn | @maereasblog | @stevenknightmarc | @imaginexred | @chargrilli | @emrys-m | @queenofthedreaming1 | @lostinheavensworld | @sugarbutterbailey | @kaicyl | @fudosl | @read4funz | @mrsgweasley | @lazybot | @myfatbottomedgirls | @adaydreamaway08 | @narmothewraith | @dianalafleur | @basicallynotbreathing | @mj0801 | @augustinesletters | @clockworkballerina | @maereasblog | @niyahwhoreworld | @yourfavunsub

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[twopoppies]

hi gina :) i was thinking about this and i wanted to share it with you. i was talking to my friend the other day about larry, and how larry is not meant for everyone. years ago when i entered the fandom, i was sooo obsessed with harry and i knew absolutely nothing about larry. i didn’t even know that larry was a thing. inevitably, when i did find out about it, i was definitely taken aback by it. but i still kept an open mind about everything. i did my research and four years later, i am still a larrie and my opinions have only grown stronger. i feel like some of these solo stans want to see themselves in harry’s ‘gfs’ so they ignore larry and the possibility of him being gay/queer. i will admit that at first i did get pulled into the delusion of harry getting with fans (townes) and i liked that i felt like that could happen to me. though that delusion was VERY short lived and i came to my senses after i found out about larry (and realistically, this is real life and not a wattpad fan fiction). the music industry and closeting is a very complex thing and some people just can’t seem to grasp how cruel the world can actually be. for a while, i actually believed louis was a father because i never looked into it due to people deeming it ‘disrespectful.’ once i actually looked into it, i saw immediately right through it and my opinion has not changed since then. the reason i am a larrie, even through all of the denials and stunts is because i did my research and i have a full and complete understanding of closeting, the stunts, babygate, etc. even if they for some unknown reason decide to split in the future, that will not change the fact that they were at least together at some point and that louis is not a father. he could blab about the kid allll he wants and there will not be a single moment where i believe a word he says. the people that get it, get it, and the people that don’t, don’t.

Yes, I agree with you. I really think there are so many fans who look at things the way you once did and don't want to dig into the facts and have their fantasies ruined. It's really sad to me, but I'm just done fighting about it.

These days, I'm here for the music, my friends, the fics/writing, and to know tour info so I can get tickets. Once upon a time, in addition to all of that, proving that Larry was real, fighting for Harry and Louis to know they were supported, and hoping a coming out was around the corner were all major reasons I was in this fandom. Things change. Fandom is very different now. I'm not interested in stubbornly holding on to something that doesn't exist anymore.

None of that means Harry and Louis aren't together or never were. It just means that their love story isn't the main focus for me these days. And that's because they no longer seem to want it to be.

[lolahasmoxie]

Sleep Tight - E.M.

Pairing: Single Dad Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Word Count: 3.8K (this may have gotten away from me)

Warning: fluff, idiots to lovers, a couple of curse words

Notes: This has been living in my brain for days, and I had to get it out. So everywhere I've read Eddie as a dad, he has a little girl. Don't get me wrong, I love it. But can you imagine him with a little boy who is his tiny doppelganger? Dead.

For this, I picture Eddie and Reader as having known each other since they were kids, and both were close growing up. Eddie flunked his first senior year, and reader graduated and left Hawkins for college. They kept in touch for a while but eventually drifted apart. She returns to Hawkins and reconnects with Eddie and his 4-year-old son. Mom has been out of the picture since he was born, and I picture Eddie as a mechanic who plays with Corroded Coffin on the weekends.

Eddie and Reader are 28 in this (takes place in 1994). An AU where the Upside Down doesn't exist, and Eddie lives.

Divider from @firefly-graphics

"Daddy, rain!"

Eddie and Y/N paused from the couch as they looked at the small four-year-old excitedly pointing out the window. The rain shouldn't have been a surprise; it had been gray and overcast all day. Eddie walked over to the front window, looked outside, and noticed a bright flash of lightning followed by thunder less than three seconds later. Before he could say anything, the skies opened up, and a torrential downpour began to beat on his roof.

"Crap, I should probably leave if I'm gonna make it home in one piece," Y/n pondered as she joined the two Munson boys at the window.

"Are you insane? There's no way I'm letting you leave now." Y/N had joined Eddie at his home for dinner instead of at Benny's due to his son's babysitter canceling last minute. The three had spent the evening playing, eating pizza, and finally settling to watch Ghostbusters. She had been on the verge of excusing herself for the evening when the storm had come upon them.

"Eds, my car will be fine. Besides, I can't stay the night." Y/N casually tried to motion to his son, who was now staring at her and preparing himself to bring out the big guns.

"But I thought we were having fun." Ronnie Wayne Munson was his father on a 24-year delay. He had the same wild curly brown hair and brown cow eyes as Eddie, and based on how he looked at Y/N, she knew his father had taught him how to use them to his advantage.

"Look, far be it for me to question the integrity of your Honda, but it’s not like this would be the first time you had to stay; you used to crash all the time when we were kids. Besides, it's unsafe to be on the road right now. You can't even see the house across the street!". Y/N turned back towards the window, and she had to admit that Eddie was right. Even with streetlights, the house across the street was nearly impossible to see. She sighed before looking at Eddie and his boy standing next to him, both with expectant looks on their eager faces.

"Okay, I'll stay."

"Hooray!" Ronnie yelled as he ran up to give her a hug. Eddie beamed at Ronnie. He was usually reserved around new people, but as soon as Y/N had reappeared in Hawkins two months ago after a ten-year absence, Ronnie had taken an instant liking to her. The little boy seemed as infatuated with her as his father had been years before.

"So, how late is this party going to go on?" Y/N asked as Ronnie climbed back onto the couch.

"Well, little man's bedtime is usually 7pm..." Ronnie looked at Eddie with a sad face. Y/N had just agreed to stay the night; it was unfair that he would have to go to bed soon. "but since tonight is a special occasion, I think we can watch one more movie."

"Yes!" Y/N couldn't help but chuckle as Ronnie did a triumphant dance before jumping off the couch. "Can we watch Nightmare Before Christmas?"

"Sure, let's get you into your jammies."

"I'll make the popcorn." Y/N motioned to the kitchen, and Eddie quickly told her where everything was. As she popped the bag in the microwave, she couldn't help but smile at the giggles emanating from Ronnie's bedroom. Eddie now lived in a small house on a quiet street near the edge of town, which felt warm and cozy like his and Wayne's old trailer. The coffee rack in the kitchen now held Eddie's mugs instead of Wayne's, and his beloved Sweetheart sat in the corner of the living room next to his acoustic and amp. Above the well-loved couch were numerous pictures, ranging from Eddie's graduation to him holding his newborn son in the hospital. There were several with the two of them and Wayne, and even one of her and Eddie from back in 83.

The sound of little feet coming from the hallway pulled her from her thoughts, and soon she was greeted by Ronnie, who was now wearing dinosaur pajamas. He ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her leg. He leaned up to give her a big toothy grin.

"Hi," he said cheerfully, and Y/N couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, don't you look comfy? You ready for the movie?" He nodded gleefully as the timer for the microwave went off. She carefully removed the bag and poured the contents into a bowl, handing it to Ronnie when he made it clear that he had to help her. "Two hands, go slow, ok?". He nodded, his little tongue sticking out in concentration as he made the short journey to the living room. They both sat on the couch while Eddie quickly popped the VHS into the tape player, pausing to turn off the living room lights before he sat down.

Ronnie sat between the two of them, and the three of them snacked as they watched the movie. The kid was on cloud nine, happily eating popcorn and singing along to the movie. Eddie's arm eventually rested on the back of the couch, causing Y/N to blush whenever his fingertips brushed the top of her shoulder. When the popcorn was gone, the bowl was moved to the side, and Ronnie took this as his cue to make himself more comfortable.

"Whoa, we don't climb on our guests." Eddie chided as he watched his son climb onto Y/N's lap. He was worried it would make her uncomfortable, but he was pleasantly surprised when she put her feet on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around Ronnie's stomach, letting him rest his back against her chest.

"He's fine, now hush."

"Yeah, Daddy, the movie's on." Eddie's eyes bulged from being sassed by not only his son but also his childhood friend. As the evening progressed, he kept stealing glances at the two of them. From the way Y/N would rub Ronnie's stomach to how they would occasionally whisper and giggle with each other, his emotions were all over the place. As the rain continued to beat against the roof, Ronnie eventually gave in to sleep. When the credits finally rolled, he was sleeping contentedly on Y/N's lap, her hand rubbing over his tummy soothingly.

"That kid usually has to be dragged kicking and screaming to go to bed," Eddie commented as he gingerly reached over to take Ronnie from Y/N. She grinned as she handed him over, stretching her arms above her head once he was safely in his father's arms. "Hey, once I get him in bed, would you be up for a movie?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure. Do you have anything I could change into?"

"I've got you, be right back." Y/N watched as he disappeared down the hallway into Ronnie's room. To be honest, when she had run into Eddie on her first day back in town, she had expected it to be awkward. After all, they hadn't seen each other in ten years. Yet, in the two months they had spent reconnecting, it felt like no time had passed at all. They quickly fell back into their dynamic, which had been created over numerous sleepovers and hangouts during their childhood. When Eddie returned to the living room he held up a clothing item in each hand.

"Okay, so the boxers are old and very stretched out, but they're clean, and the shirt was a gag gift from Henderson."

"Gag gift?" she asked, and had to bite her lip when Eddie unfurled an oversized shirt that had "Virginia is for Lovers" emblazoned across the front. "That is amazing."

"Go change; I'll pick the movie. Horror okay?" Y/N nodded as she shuffled into the bathroom. Eddie hummed to himself as he tried to pick a movie for them to watch. He was mentally preparing to keep his cool when he heard the bathroom door open a few minutes later. Whatever composure he had quickly flew out the window when he saw her adorned in his clothes, and she looked at him expectedly as she waited for him to say something. "Um, everything fits ok?"

"Yeah, the boxers are a tad tight around the thighs, but it's no biggie. Now, what are we watching?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I haven't seen "The Thing" in ages."

"Fuck," she chuckled as she sat back down on the couch. "I think the last time I saw it was with you." Eddie popped in the video and sat next to Y/N.

"Well then, let's get to it, shall we?" The movie started, but it wasn't long before Eddie and Y/N started talking. Old inside jokes and stories passed between them, quickly resulting in giggles that they tried to keep quiet so they wouldn't wake Ronnie. When the movie ended, they kept talking, the rain becoming static noise as their conversation moved to their love lives.

"Wait, he cheated on you?" Eddie asked incredulously as Y/N took a sip from her beer.

"Yeah, had a side piece for like two months before he finally had the balls to break up with me. You want to know something funny?" Eddie shook his head as he watched her settle into the cushions more, a sigh leaving her lips. "I wasn't even that mad about it."

"You'd been with the guy for over the year, and he cheated; I'm shocked you didn't set his car on fire. Fuck, Jason Carver started that rumor about you sophomore year, and you took a bat to his headlights." Y/N giggled at the memory.

"I also told the cheerleading team he had a micro-penis, but that's not the point. And don't get me wrong, it sucked that he didn't have the balls to just break up when he realized he didn't want me anymore. But, in the end, I wasn't angry like I thought I would be."

"You were together a while, though." Y/N sighed as she thought over her response.

"When I was little, I remember asking my Mom why she married my Dad. She said it was because she felt this spark every time she saw him; she said she knew from their first date that he was the one for her. Over a year with Daniel, and I never once had that feeling." She paused as she turned to look at Eddie. "Did you ever feel that way with Ronnie's mom?"

"Veronica?" asked before running a hand over his hair, letting out a heavy sigh as he thought about his son's mother. "We weren't together long before we found out she was pregnant, we hadn't been very serious before, but since there was a kid on the way, we decided to give it a shot. Turns out we were two puzzle pieces from two different puzzles."

"When did she leave?"

"Left when Ronnie was 3 months old. Said motherhood wasn't for her, and she felt it would be best if Ronnie didn't grow up with a Mom who resented him." Y/N nodded in understanding before letting out a loud yawn. "Alright, that's enough sad shit for tonight. Let's call it a night."

"Just toss me a pillow and blanket, and I'll be fine out here."

"Or," Eddie started with a hopeful gleam in his eye. "We could make this like old times, and we can share my bed." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he put his hands up defensively to plead his case. "I know what you're thinking, but we won't be crammed on a double like old times. I upgraded to a Queen and," he paused as he let out a puff of air. "would be nice to have someone else in the bed, you know?" The air was tense for a moment, but it disappeared for Eddie when she gave him a sleepy smile and motioned for him to lead the way.

Eddie's room was different now that he was an adult. The bed was on a frame instead of the floor, and the tan-colored walls had pictures of Ronnie and Wayne instead of metal band posters. He had a tall dresser, and above it was a small bulletin board covered in concert tickets and wristbands. It was surrounded by Corroded Coffin fliers for The Hideout, where the boys still played when they had the time. Y/N stood quietly in the doorway while watching Eddie pull back the comforter.

"Alright, any preference on a side, m'lady?"

"I'll take the right side. And I swear to God, if you dutch oven me, I’m gonna punch you right in the dick."

"Holy shit. I did that once, and in my defense, it was over 15 years ago."

"It was traumatic. Smelled like a sumo wrestler took a dump on a burning pile of hair." She giggled as Eddie tossed a pillow at her.

"The fuck it did; it was not that bad."

"Well, it didn't sell like sunshine and roses either!" Her giggles stopped as they both stood on opposite sides of the bed. He looked at her like he wanted to say something, and she found herself unable to look away as she returned his gaze. It was over in a second as he shook his head and motioned for her to climb in.

"Fair warning, Ronnie is an early bird and will likely be in here at an ungodly hour."

"Thanks for the warning," she replied as she yawned, feeling sleep calling for her as she savored the perfection that was Eddie's bed. Their backs were towards each other as he leaned over and turned off the bedside lamp, the only light now coming from the slivers of moonlight through the window. Just before she succumbed to sleep, she heard Eddie's soft voice in the quiet of the room.

"Night, Y/N."

"Night, Eddie."

It started when she heard crying in her dreams, but what fully woke her was Eddie getting out of bed. It was only then that she realized the crying was coming from Ronnie's room. She followed him, Ronnie's cries pulling at her heart as she wondered what could have possibly haunted him in his sleep. She stood in the doorway of his room, watching Eddie with Ronnie in his arms.

"Come on little man, it's okay. I've got you, bud." Eddie ran a hand over his son's back as he paced the room, pausing when he saw Y/N in the doorway. "Shit, I didn't mean to wake you." Before she could respond, Ronnie realized she was in the room. Fidgeting in Eddie's hold, he held his arms out for Y/N. Eddie saw a look of shock take hold of her, but it was gone in a flash. Before he could blink, she had Ronnie's small body against her chest as she started cooing in a soothing voice.

"Now, what has you crying so hard, huh?" Y/N rubbed Ronnie's back as his sobs began to turn to soft cries. She turned to exit the room, and Eddie followed like a sailor caught by a siren. He watched as she walked past the living room into the kitchen. She pulled a carton of milk from his fridge, now holding his son on her hip as if that was where he was always supposed to be. "Eddie, where do you keep your glasses?"

Snapping out of his trance, he shuffled across the kitchen to stand behind Y/N. He reached up to open the cabinet, a hand on her shoulder as he pulled down three glasses. He watched as she lined them up before opening the milk jug and pouring it until all three glasses were full. She motioned to the microwave, and Eddie nodded. As he set the timer Y/N placed Ronnie on the counter and cradled his face, her thumbs gently wiping his tear-stained cheeks.

"Wanna tell us what woke you up?"

"We were at the park, and I couldn't find you or daddy when it was time to go. I kept yelling, but you weren't there." A new round of tears was about to fall, but she simply smiled as she took Ronnie's hands in hers.

"Don't cry, your Daddy and I are right here. See?" Ronnie looked from Y/N to his father, and Eddie gave him a small smile and wave as the timer for the microwave went off. Eddie brought the glasses over, and Y/N took one and held it to Ronnie. He took it and looked up at Y/N.

"What's this?"

"When I was little and I had bad dreams, my mom would give me a glass of warm milk. Then we would turn the TV on and watch it until I got sleepy. Sound like something you would be interested in?" Ronnie nodded as he lifted the glass to his lips. Y/N and Eddie did the same, and when they were done, she lifted Ronnie from the counter and carried him to the living room. "Your dad will find something good for us to watch, right?"

"Comfort TV, coming right up." Y/N sat with Ronnie's little head against her chest, her hand running over his back as Eddie found a rerun of The Addams Family on Nick at Nite. From his spot crouched on the floor, so many thoughts ran through his head as he watched Y/N comfort his son; he couldn't quite catch what they all were. But despite the late hour, he knew deep down that it felt right.

It took almost an hour for Ronnie to fall asleep, and by the time he had, Y/N was leaning heavily against Eddie's arm. She had spent nearly the entire time talking to him softly and rubbing his back. Eddie shut the TV off as Y/N carefully walked to Ronnie's room. She carefully placed him in his bed, covering him with his blanket before she ran her hand over his soft brown hair. Content that he would be asleep until the morning, she stood and noticed Eddie watching her from the doorway. He was wearing the same expression he'd had before they'd gone to bed. She gave him a soft smile before walking past him to his bedroom.

She heard Eddie close Ronnie's door, but before she reached the bed, she felt his hand on her wrist. She turned and, seeing his expression, her brows furrowed in curiosity as he pulled her closer. She called his name but lost her voice when he raised his hand. It cradled her jaw, his thumb running over her cheek as his eyes bore down. He lowered his head, and without saying a word, he pressed his lips to hers.

Y/N had wondered multiple times growing up what it would be like to kiss Eddie Munson; she figured that just came with having a best friend of the opposite sex. But as his other hand came to cradle her face, she realized that this moment was miles better than anything her schoolgirl imagination could concoct. Her eyes closed as his lips trailed to her cheeks, followed by her nose and forehead. She felt her heart racing when he rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you."

"Eddie,"

"Since I was 10 years old. Fuck," he chuckled as he reached down and took her hands. "I think I loved you before I even knew what that was." The room was quiet as they stood there in the dark, and Eddie wondered if he had royally screwed everything up because she wasn't saying anything. Then he felt her thumb run over the back of his hand.

"You didn't say anything," she said softly. Her eyes now were looking into his. "You let me leave for Chicago without saying anything."

"I know. Hands down, one of the worst moments in my life was watching you drive away."

"But why?" she implored. "Why wouldn't you say something?" Eddie sighed as he looked down at the floor. He only spoke when he felt her squeeze his hand.

"You were always better than Hawkins, better than me. You were destined for fancy dinner parties where assholes like me just serve the drinks." Eddie was no stranger to rejection in his life; he often wondered if it was just a part of his DNA at this point. Then he felt her hand cup his chin, forcing his face to look at her.

"It's sweet you think so highly of me, but I don't want any of that, not if you're not next to me to enjoy said drinks." Before Eddie could respond, she pulled his face down and kissed him. His hands found their way to her hips, her shirt bunching in his hold when she pressed her tongue against the seam of his lips. There was no rush, no hurry as they kissed in the dark. Eddie felt what Y/N's mother had talked about, a spark he could only hope she felt in return. When she pulled her lips away, he pulled her body closer. He pressed his nose into her neck as she ran a hand over his hair.

"Let's go out on Friday."

"A date?" she asked hopefully. She felt him nod as she felt him inhale deeply.

"A proper date, the one I should have asked you on in high school," he said as he rose to his full height. "It's been a while since Ronnie's had a sleepover at Wayne's; we'll do dinner and a movie; what do you say?"

"Pick me up at 7, and you have yourself a deal." Eddie beamed down at her before leaning down to steal another kiss.

"We'd better get some sleep before my demon spawn wakes us up at an ungodly hour." Y/N chuckled as they both climbed into the bed. Instead of sleeping back to back, now she was curled into Eddie's side, her head on his chest and her arm slung over his torso. The feel of his fingers tracing over her arm made her eyes droop, and as she drifted off into sleep, she could faintly feel his lips on her head as he whispered unheard words to her.

Eddie woke when the sun from the window moved over his face. He first noticed that his arms no longer held Y/N, and he wondered for a brief moment if it had all been a wonderful dream. But then he felt a slight movement to his left. Y/N was sleeping on her side, facing him, and between them was Ronnie. His son was sprawled on his back, his sleep shirt had ridden up to show his stomach, and his tiny hand was holding onto Y/N's even in sleep. He knew in an instant that was what he wanted to wake up to every day for the rest of his life.

Tonight, when Wayne came to visit, he was going to ask for his grandmother's ring. Eddie knew he wasn't the smartest guy in the world, but he was sure of this. He was going to make Y/N his wife before the year was out.

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Two: I Think I Wanna Marry You

a/n: here’s chapter two of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

-

-

The move itself brings a second dose of reality you never fully thought through.

Seeing Steve there, with his dark BMW, sunglasses on his face. He’s popped the trunk already and it’s with that sudden clarity you’re reminded that it’s happening.

That this is real and not some dream you’ve imagined in your mind.

You’re marrying him. In four weeks. Thirty days, exactly. A countdown to the next three years of your life. The other half of your “paperwork” you’re going to sign when you scribble your name along that certification of your marriage.

You work in comfortable silence. Robin and Nancy come along too for assistance, and with the combination of efforts, Steve’s car is packed in less than two hours. You’re shocked he’s even bothered to do it himself, and not order some sort of moving company. But when you point that out to him, he only shrugs and says he wanted to help.

Apparently it’s the least he can do for getting a wife at the end of all of this.

That and countless zeros on a check that he doesn’t even need or want.

Once your things are all settled in the trunk and backseat, Robin wanders over to where you both stand on the sidewalk, arms looping tight around your frame. She steps back and moves to tousle Steve’s hair, earning a sharp jerk of his body out of contact and an utterance of complaint from the taller man.

With a snort, she says, “You love me, don’t deny it.”

And he does. You know that much. He’s been closer with Robin for a year or so now. A direct result of her relationship with Nancy. Nancy’s job as a journalist, often documenting his life or the accolades of his family, has established a bond between the three. You try to tamper that slight jealousy.

The fact is that both Robin and Eddie have more insight into the man you’re marrying than you do.

You were always too busy, after all. Working or deep in your own studies and missing out on the many evenings Steve invited them all to join him in his outings. You suppose you’ll rectify that soon. There’s a lot two people can learn in three years—if he’s open to it, that is.

That awareness of truly not knowing him settles in as you clamber into the passenger seat, thumb sliding awkwardly over the band of your engagement ring to fiddle idly. He turns the dial on the music, something pop and current, and you lean back against your seat, letting the quiet of the morning wash over you.

You wake some time later to the sound of Steve’s voice in your ear, announcing, “Hey. We made it.”

Sleep lingers in your eyes as you shift in your seat to take him in. Dark eyes greet yours, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his shirt. Your gaze then slides to the imposing building on a side of the city you’ve never really ventured outside of your coffee date with him some days prior.

It stands proud, tall and looming, with workers at the ready, prepped with carts for your things.

“They’ll take care of bringing everything up, and I thought maybe we could grab a coffee,” he suggests, moving to open his door. He tosses the valet his key and waltzes over to your side, opening the door for you. “How does that sound?”

You’re suddenly aware of the state of your clothes. Nothing more than a pair of baggy mom jeans and a striped tee shirt. Some white tennis shoes that are veering on brown in some areas from overuse.

Then there’s Steve, in dark wash jeans and a shirt you know likely still cost him a small fortune. Effortlessly handsome as always with a Chanel watch strapped around the wrist extended toward you.

You take his palm, nearl tripping over the bump of the curb as you go, your side thumping against his. He curls you there instead of letting you go, an arm around your shoulder, waving to the workers as they shift and swirl around you.

Keeping up appearances already, you suppose.

One pauses to dip their head your way, beaming brightly, asking, “It’s the girl from Instagram. Congratulations, Miss. Or rather, soon to be Mrs. Harrington.”

The name drops something akin to cool dread in your stomach. But you smile all the same. “You know what they say. When you know—” You tip your head up to look at him, gripping him by the jaw and giving him a soft wiggle. “You know.”

In your palm, Steve forces a grin. A little wild, a little smushed and silly, but the worker smiles all the same and wishes you both a good morning. Leaves you standing beside your soon to be husband on the side of an unfamiliar street, in an unfamiliar new town, ready to walk into your unfamiliar home.

“Coffee sounds good, actually,” you decide, wanting to be anywhere other than stuck in the awkward silence of the moment, and follow him down the sidewalk.

-

By the time you return, Steve’s been alerted that all your things have been brought up to the penthouse. Coffee in hand, you walk through the swirling doors, standing as close to Steve as humanly possible without truly touching him. There are people there to greet him, realizations in the back of your mind that he must be well-known. Amicable and kind, they offer warm welcomes to both you and your future husband as you’re led to an elevator that brings you all the way up to the top floor.

It’s from there, you’re brought into the place you’ll be spending the next few years. But what greets you is far greater than you even imagined. Endless floor to ceiling windows that overlook the cityscape. High, vaulted ceilings, impossibly white walls. Dark furniture throughout the living area, the kitchen. Against the living room wall rests the largest television you’ve seen, presently off, though Steve turns it on to allow some music to play and break the awkward silence as he walks you around.

He’s already told you the general layout of his space: two bathrooms, multiple bedrooms, a fully decked out personal gym, movie area, dining area, outdoor patio, a study that also poses as his office, a library. It seems impossible to have this much space, and yet the further into the suite you walk, the more real it becomes.

“Seems not lived in, though,” you comment out loud, taking in the impressively clean place. Especially knowing Steve doesn’t spend much time at all here. “Like there’s all this space and nothing to fill it with.”

He huffs out a laugh, not disagreeing. “You can spruce it up if you want. I’ll give you my card. Whatever you like to make it feel like yours. Because, well, it is yours.”

“Yours, mine, and ours, right?” You awkwardly laugh, walking over to look out the windows and take in the bustling city below. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s…yeah, you know, I guess it is.” He sidles up next to you, peering out where you are. He frowns, contemplative. “I guess I don’t think about it often. I wake up to it every day.”

Another stark reminder of just how different your lives are.

“How was wedding planning with my mom?” he asks, drawing you attention to his face. His fingers card through his hair, his feet carrying him over to the kitchen to pull out a glass. He adds a second, asking, “Anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” you say, hands clasped behind your back as you join him. “We went over color schemes. I ended up with pale pinks, lavenders and a tiny pop of gold. More so the accents. We will be looking for a dress tomorrow. Kind of shitting myself over that one.”

“I can come—if you want?” He suggests, holding your glass in front of him.

“Isn’t that bad luck?” you tease, taking a sip.

“Pretty sure that’s only at the wedding.”

“Right.” The wedding. In thirty days. “I mean, if you wanted to come…”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, opening his phone and showing you the calendar app. “What time?”

“Your mother got us a private appointment at twelve. I told her she didn’t have to do that but—”

“She’s excited. She’s getting a daughter out of this. Sometimes I think she wishes I’d been a girl,” he laughs, though there’s a hint of bitterness there you don’t miss. “Here—let me show you your room.”

You trail after him in silence, eyes taking in everything you pass. Boring, empty walls. No pops of color. No personal photos. Nothing indicative of life. Not even a shred of memorabilia from his childhood, or something of sentimental value from his boyhood. It seems odd, though you don’t press him on it. Instead you allow him to bring you through the tour, before stopping in front of a closed door.

“This,” he says, tapping on the exterior, “is my room. In case you ever need me. And here…”

You walk further down the way and stop in front of another door. “Will be your room. All your things will have already been moved in. You just have to unpack and make it yours. I do have some work I need to get to now, but I’m around if you need me.”

“It’s the weekend…” you point out, fingers around the door handle.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “But with all that’s going on, I want to make sure everything is taken care of before the wedding and our honeymoon.”

Honeymoon.

Right.

To that private island in the Maldives.

A honeymoon for two people who are most definitely not intimate and, therefore, should not be spending money like this is anything more than a mere sham.

Still, your flights are booked, accommodations made, and itinerary is set. It was the first thing his mother had done other than figuring out what color palette you preferred.

“So, uh, I’ll talk to you…later then,” you say, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Yeah, later.” He nods.

And suddenly, you’re Cinderella once more.

Standing there in that doorway, in her too-big home, with that pumpkin instead of a carriage.

-

Though you’ve never spent much time fantasizing about shopping for your wedding dress, it never quite looks like what you see around you now.

For starters, you imagined your mother would be there. Kind, bright and smiling. There to tell you how beautiful you look, to coax you through your nerves, to remind you that this is the most special day of your life coming up and to just enjoy the moment.

But it’s not. And you’re left standing on a pedestal in front of Mrs. Harrington, your father, sister, Eddie and Robin. Further off in the distance is Steve, phone against his face as it has been since you woke that morning.

Steve’s always busy, you soon realize. In the private car to take you to the boutique? He had a work conference call. In the kitchen while you ate your breakfast? Another phone call. Now here, while a bridal attendant works with his mother to find you some options to try on? He’s got some major meltdown to help sort out.

You understand, and yet there’s a slight sting there you’re not expecting. The idea that he said he would be there for your try-on session, but he’s not really there. Not emotionally, at least.

“Still can’t believe you got Eddie to come,” Caroline laughs, elbowing the man in question as he snatches her up and shakes her vigorously. “Stop it, asshole—”

“Caroline!” your father snaps, leaning back into the couch cushion as another attendant passes out glasses of champagne for all present.

They even manage to find some juice for your sister, so she feels involved with the process.

“So, we picked a few beautiful pieces. A lot of these are brand new, so you won’t have to worry about someone else wearing the same dress—”

“Oh I’m not concerned about—”

Mrs. Harrington clears her throat, waving her champagne flute in the air. “Only the best for my future daughter in law.”

You shoot a weak grin Robin’s way.

Eddie gives you a reassuring thumbs up, arm still around Caroline’s neck despite her protesting.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of trying on dress after dress. Fancy beading, endless lace, plunging backs, dramatic trains, striking silhouettes.

You’re decked in beading from head to toe, diamond encrusted gowns, gowns that look like they’re better suited for royalty than on the girl who grew up in Hawkins. Who worked at her little hole in the wall restaurant and had a normal, unglamorous upbringing.

It hits you as you’re standing there, with a veil that looks to be studded with expensive jewels, staring at your own reflection that this isn’t you. None of these are. And even if you’re marrying someone to help them fulfill a will and to secure a debt for your own self, there’s a part of you that wants to do things your way.

If you’re going to get married to Steve Harrington, you want to feel like yourself while doing it. “Do you have something more…simple? Classic. Understated, maybe?”

The bridal attendant looks to your future mother-in-law like you have grown five dozen heads, and the look your mother-in-law then gives you tells you she is agreeing with the same sentiment.

Her gaze wavers, shifting over to where her son is pacing in the background, before she shifts back to where you stand on a podium.

The girl in a fancy ball gown that feels like a costume more than anything else.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” she asks, and you blow out a heavy breath.

Your guests shift on the couch awkwardly as you hop off the podium and peruse the dozens of racks. You point out the ones that seem more comfortable, more like something you would have picked up on your own even before all of this. Simpler designs, classical silhouettes, subtle beading.

All in all, you end up in a stunning a-line princess, v-neck wedding gown with thin straps and a pretty lace detailing along the low back.

A minimalistic veil is placed at the back of your head and draped around you like a billowing halo, trailing down the pedestal and onto the cream carpeting below.

Behind you, Eddie whistles.

Caroline snaps photos on her phone.

Robin’s shouting, “Holy shit, babe.”

And when you turn around to your father and future mother-in-law, you know you’ve made the right decision in trusting your gut. Both have snatched tissues from a nearby tissue box and dab ceaselessly at their eyes, sniffling audibly.

“You look beautiful, honey,” your father says around a sob.

Bottom lip wobbling, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Harrington waves in her son’s direction, calling over her shoulder, “Steve, look at your bride. Stop being rude.”

When he turns around, there’s a moment. A brief one, you think, where he pauses. Maybe it’s a realization he’s making a huge mistake, the understanding that he’s going to have a wife in a few short weeks, the idea that he’s giving up his future for three years. But there’s a thought, however fleeting, where his eyes widen and you wonder if it’s actually none of those at all.

Without a name to place that emotion to, you simply swallow and mutter softly, “Well, what do you think?”

Eddie leans against the couch, fingers draping over the plush back as he asks out loud, “Yeah, Stevie, what do you think?”

It’s a threat.

Veiled.

There’s no danger, not really, but Steve swallows all the same.

Wavers a bit as he looks to Eddie, then back to you.

He swallows again, and says, “You’re beautiful, honey.”

Disappointment sinks like an anchor of dread, because you wonder if he even means it.

-

Cake testing a week later fares no better. You’re still getting used to your new routine. Waking up early to an empty home in an empty room that hardly feels like yours. Steve’s usually off to sort out something with the business, while you’re left to your own devices.

Which means phone calls with the wedding planner, pictures sent back and forth between Steve and your future mother-in-law about decisions made, which Steve always just sends and thumbs up emoji back to, and trying to make sense of a wedding that only one half of the couple has been privy to.

Sure, he’d been there when you picked out your dress. But he hadn’t been for the floral arrangements, for figuring out what the bridesmaids will wear as well as the groomsmen. And he’s definitely not there when you’re presented with options for musical entertainment.

So it comes as a shock when he does end up coming for the cake testing. And since he’s free to do so, his mother stays home, suggesting it’ll be an intimate moment for you two. Something about how the cake is important.

You hold back your biting remarks about how it’s just a cake, and instead thank her.

Whine a bit on the phone to really sell the fact that you ‘miss Stevie’—in case she doubts the validity of your engagement. She’s not really shown any indications of such, but you’re growing more mindful of the importance of appearances.

Because it’s in that first week your name pops up in the popular pages of instagram and other social media platforms. There’s even a TikTok of you walking on a busy city street with Steve and Eddie, where people bring to question if you and Steve are already fighting based on your body language.

Though, you do suppose there’s some weight to their remarks. In said video, you’re standing closer to Eddie than Steve, and Steve’s phone is in the hand nearest to you. The one they suggest he should really be holding if he’s as in love as he is. It sounds ridiculous, but it does make sense.

In their eyes, you’re more likely to be dating the famous rockstar based on body language alone than your fiancé.

Wedding planning should be butterflies in your belly, heart eyes for days, wrapped up in one another sort of affection. Steve and you, on the other hand, are two people walking side by side and yet not together.

You understand you need to change that. So as you walk down the street that evening on your way to the bakery, you mutter out, “Hold my hand.”

“What?” He’s typing on his phone, as always. The sound of keyboard clicking meets your ears, before he locks the screen and slides it into his pocket.

“Hold,” you say. There’s a little extra bite this time, “my hand.”

He exhales. “Why?”

“Because you’re in love with me and we’re getting married in less than twenty days,” you remind him.

Less than three weeks. Just under that, really. A thought that immediately has your skin prickling with nervousness and anticipation. Three weeks until you have a new name, a new husband.

“And we’re on our way to our cake testing,” you add, lacing your fingers through his. “People have been talking about us on social media.”

“Saying what?” He leads you down a side street, and then another.

“That we look uncomfortable with one another. That it seems like we must be fighting, because you don’t show me any affection in public—”

“I’ve been—”

“Busy, I know. But they don’t know that, so they’ll fill in the blanks when applicable,” you explain, giving his palm a light squeeze. “So I think we should get used to the public displays of affection, don’t you? I mean, we’re going to have to kiss at the altar, for one. And then there’s the dancing at the reception. Photos. Events.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees.

“I know I’m right,” you joke, allowing him to open the door for you to the building.

-

“Cake testing can be intimate. This is one of your first meals as a couple, so it needs to be representative of your relationship. The two of you. The love you share,” the cake maker explains, her hands waving to and fro in the air like she’s painting a picture.

You glance over at Steve. He offers a shrug, likely just as uncertain as to what the hell this lady is getting at. “Pardon?”

“You want a cake that is representative of your love. A symbol—if you will.”

“It’s just a c—” Steve begins, but the older woman narrows her gaze darkly and he clears his throat. Uncomfortable. “Honey, why don’t you handle this one?”

“Oh, but darling, you’re the cake connoisseur.” You pat the hand holding yours affectionately atop the table, forcing a megawatt grin on your lips.

“Is that so?” Madeleine asks, cat eye glasses sliding lower down the bridge of her nose. “In that case, did you have any ideas for what you imagined the cake at your wedding to look like?”

Steve’s hand nervously grows tighter around yours. You hiss at the throbbing pain that develops there when your knuckles smash together. The grasp immediately loosens, a thumb coming to slide gently over the sore areas.

You choose to ignore the rush of heat that swoops low in your belly, though.

“Well—I pictured…a cake,” he expresses lamely.

“What my dear fiancé means to say is…we’ve been so caught up with the rush of wedding planning we haven’t given it much thought,” you giggly airily, faux coyness filling your tone. “You know how it is. We’re just so excited to spend the rest of our lives together. So we were hoping maybe you’d be able to suggest some options for us.”

Because you’re also not sure how to tell them your cake needs to be representative of a mix of high levels of shame and “I was drowning in debt and Steve offered assistance, so long as I become his wife.”

Madeleine huffs and gets to work.

Later, the two of you stumble back onto the street with a cake picked out and designed to Madeleine’s liking. A red velvet center with some endless swirling flowers along the exterior in the color scheme of your wedding.

“A cake reflective of our relationship,” he mutters, shaking his head as he reaches for your palm once more. “And what was that? Sacrificing me to her?”

You bat your eyelashes prettily, shrugging. “My idea of a cake is a boxed Pillsbury one. I figured you were the closest to an expert we would get. Also—you nearly broke my hand there.”

“I was stressed,” he argues, though there’s a hint of a smile curling his lips. His thumb does another one of those low sweeps that has you pausing in your footsteps. “But that was a little ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

You bark out a laugh, following him down the still unfamiliar streets leading home. “A little? I don’t know where your mother and the wedding planner found her. It’s a cake. It’s literally a cake we’re going to have one bite of before the caterers feed it to the rest of our guests.” A shudder ripples down your spine at that. “Our guests. Weird to think, huh?”

“Less than three weeks,” he muses, the two of you crossing at a streetlight. “Still feeling okay with the whole thing?”

“Okay? That's still to be determined.” He waves to someone in passing. Likely a neighbor, you assume. “Backing out? Absolutely not.”

-

One thing you definitely didn’t consider in this whole…fake marriage plot with Steve, is the concept of bachelor and bachelorette parties. You are obviously well aware of the typical fanfare, have been in numerous weddings as it is, but there are no parameters or guidelines in place for a wedding that has been planned in thirty days in an effort to rush to the altar.

So, you leave that part of the wedding planning up to your friends.

And somehow the end result is a joint party.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Holy shit, Steve.” Robin’s head falls back as she enters your bedroom, mouth dropping open, taking it all in. It’s the size of both your rooms combined back at your old place. “At least you got a nice place out of all this.”

You shrug, dropping down onto your bed. Fingers splay across the sheets, soft and cool beneath. Against your closet rests the white jumpsuit you’ve decided on for your party. A sleeveless number that cinches at the waist and a sweetheart neckline that cups your breasts sumptuously.

Pretty.

But there’s the dawning realization that tonight all the attention will be solely on you and Steve.

So what do you do?

-

“This is a terrible idea,” Steve groans, wincing as his shot goes down.

“Actually, it’s probably one of the best I’ve had,” Eddie exclaims, clapping you both on the back.

The sting of tequila burns in your nose. The flowing sash across your chest that says Mrs. Harrington rumples when your arm reaches over to place the glass back down on the countertop. Robin’s there to adjust it, grinning despite your sour expression.

“Wow, look at you two,” she coos, pulling out her phone to snap a photo. “For your story. They’ll eat it up. Plus, better to get all the cute pictures now, instead of when you’re both drunk later.”

Steve pulls you closer to take a photo, grumbling. “We are not getting drunk.”

-

“Steeeeve.”

You’re drunk.

“Yeah, honey bunny.”

Aaaaand so is he.

“F—” You hiccup. He laughs, leaning bodily into your shoulder. “—uck. I’m gonna kill Eddie.”

Even though Eddie’s only responsible for your first drink. Not the second, or the third, fourth…you’re not sure where you’re at now.

There’s at least an awareness that it’s enough; enough to have the room spinning when you sit down, and Steve beside you like an anchor in a shaky sea.

So when he moves to stand, your fingers curl around his wrist and drag him back down again. “No. Don’t go. We’re…to death do us part.”

“Till,” he corrects, snorting playfully. “You’re gonna see me everyday for…three years.”

“But there’s so many people here. Soooo many. And most of them are your friends,” you whine, clasping your hand in his as he leads you back out further into the people spread out along the private rooftop. “You have soooo many friends. Did you know that?”

He simply laughs, just as Eddie’s voice breaks over the noise all around you. A loud shout of, “The soon to be newlyweds should do the next round of karaoke!”

“Edward Munson, you little s—” Another hiccup. Shit, you think, we’re giggly drunk tonight. “shit. I’m gonna beat your ass like I did when we were kids.”

“It’s like something out of a fuckin’ romcom,” Steve later whines as you’re both pushed onto the stage by a bunch of cheering friends. “And they picked our song already.”

“Oh no, which one?” You slur a bit on your words, one ankle rolling like a baby deer.

Steve grasps your bicep to steady you. “Marry You by Bruno Mars.”

“Nooo,” you moan, hiding your face in his collar bone. Shit, you think, I’m a flirty drunk tonight too. “Think we can escape our own party?”

One glance out to your awaiting guests tells you that’s not at all a possibility. Steve’s there, overly affectionate now that you’ve got a crowd, with a hand on your lower back, pulling you close.

To anyone else, you’re a couple celebrating their nuptials in the next few days.

To you, you know he’s laying it on thick.

Making sure there is absolutely no question as to the validity of your marriage.

Especially with potential co workers around, with those who can easily talk rumors in the halls, who might wonder why the speedy engagement and rush down the aisle in the first place.

“One song,” you shout over the crowd, over Steve’s shoulder.

And then, in a puff of breath against his ear you whisper, “Make it count, hubby.”

-

“It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Heyy babyyyy! I think I wanna marry you!” You sing.

If you can consider it that.

To Eddie it’s screeching or a shrill wail, a high pitched thing that makes everyone around you wince.

There’s interference with the mic that has Eddie’s eyes slamming shut against the sharp pang against his eardrums.

“Think we should stop them?” Robin asks out loud, watching Steve awkwardly bob and sway beside you, never really sure of what to do with his body when it comes to music.

“No,” Eddie chuckles darkly, leaning back on his chair. “Those idiots are involving us in a literal crime, so we’re going to have our fun with it.”

“Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you,” Steve continues, and it’s clearly not up to your standard, because you grab his arm and wiggle it frantically.

“I am marrying him!” You giggle over the microphone, extending your ring to the crowd. “Can you believe it? Mrs. Harrington.”

“Oh no,” Robin mutters, gripping Nancy’s hand beside her. “She’s giggly now.”

“She’s fucked up. She’s going to kill us in the morning,” Eddie grumbles.

Robin’s eyes widen as Nancy says, “I really feel like you two should stop them. Because Steve just grabbed her and now they’re, uh, making out on the stage—”

Robin jumps to her feet. “Oh fuck.”

-

You wake in the morning to a bunch of tiny needles stabbing your skull. Like someone took a jackhammer to your brain and pushed an on switch.

Brain practically groaning in your head, you lift yourself slowly into a sitting position and moan at the throb that rolls down the nape of your neck and down your spine.

Wincing, you kick your legs over the side of the bed and insert your feet into the slippers on the floor down below, sighing at the immediate comfort.

The penthouse is full of chatter. Voices mill from the kitchen, soft despite the clanging cymbals you’re convinced are in your brain. And there, at the kitchen island, stands none other than your two (ex) best friends and your soon to be husband, cups of coffee held against their temples, shame ebbing from their forms.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Robin coos, turning around to gauge your expression.

You don’t miss the shock of brows curling high on her forehead, nor do you miss the tick in Eddie’s cheek as he fights a smile.

“I must look like shit,” you grumble, sliding into the kitchen between the group, uncaring as your shoulder brushes Steve’s. There’s already an iced coffee for you on the countertop. Steve must have ordered, you assume, fighting the flutter in your chest at the thought. “I feel like shit. Very unsexy shit. People keep talking about my bridal beauty, but I feel very much like a bridal beast right now.”

Robin shakes her head, hand on your shoulder. “No, you look fine, you look—”

“Like you’ve had better nights,” Eddie says nonchalantly, earning a cough from Steve to his left.

“I’m sorry, it seems like your invitation to my wedding was rescinded. So weird,” you say brightly, leaning against Robin’s shoulder, pinching your eyes against the bright kitchen lightning. “You’re no longer my best friend. Maybe you’ll fare better with Steve here.”

Why did Steve get a building with white walls as far as the eye can see? You also decide your first purchase will be curtains to block out the natural light coming through the large windows covering the entirety of your living room exterior.

“Tell me you guys didn’t have fun,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “Unless you don’t remember much of it. But it looked like you were having fun.”

The thing is, you remembered every moment.

Every interaction with your guests, every brush of shoulders from your soon to be husband.

Every fleeting glance.

Every look over the top of your glass.

The way your heart danced in your chest as he led you onto that stage.

How his fingers had curled around your own as you sang that ridiculous karaoke song.

How his lips had felt when he dropped a hand to the small of your back and tugged you flush against his form.

The way his heart thundered against yours where your sternums pressed together.

The warmth of his palm.

The heat of his breath as you breathed one another in.

The fullness of his mouth against yours, gentle brushes at first that soon grew passionate.

Heated.

It had been scalding.

A burn that simmered.

A burn you relished, wanted to fan into flame, wanted to foster in the moment.

Just a silly, stupid, alcohol-fueled moment.

It means nothing.

Nothing.

“I don’t really remember much after we left here,” Steve says.

He stares at you. Eyes locked on your face. Imploring.

Eddie and Robin shift your way, too.

Curiosity brims, and your heart aches.

You open your mouth. “I don’t really remember much either.”

Seven days.

You’ll be a wife in seven days.

Don’t get it twisted now, you remind yourself.

-

-

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: tw: rape, tw: talk of being raped but not the act itself, tw: verbal abuse, tw: emotional abuse, john is a really bad person, super sweet bucky, relief and being free at the end

Summary: Ever since your failed one-night stand with John, you two have been in a "relationship". He won't let you leave and treats you like less than. Will you ever find your way out of this abuse cycle?

Squares Filled: romania (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The person staring back at you in the mirror is someone you don’t recognize. How did you get to this point in your life? You used to be so full of life and loved going out with your friends. Now? You’d rather stay in and not see a single person in fear they’re going to see who you really are: a weak bitch. At least, that’s what John tells you daily. Your eyes used to hold so much light but now they’re sunken in. Your skin used to be glowing but now is pale.

Thank God for makeup.

You paint your face to make yourself look happy, to conceal the tear stains away, and to make your skin shine like how it used to. Just as you put the final brush down, John walks in with a scowl on his face.

“You take fucking forever to get ready. The boys are waiting on you. You’re either ready in five minutes or I’m gonna leave you here and I’ll punish you when I get home.”

“I’m ready.”

You turn to him with a fake smile plastered on your face.

“Fucking finally. Come on.”

As soon as John leaves the room, your smile drops. This is getting to be very exhausting and you’re not sure how long you can do this for. Still, you grab your purse and meet John at the car. One of his good friends is hosting a small party with drinks and dinner, so he doesn’t live far from you and John. John has his hand on your thigh the entire ride as a sort of reminder. His touch makes you want to throw up, everything about him you hate, and he’s not a good person. 

Not only is he mentally, verbally, and emotionally abusive toward you, but he crosses the line into physical abuse almost every night. He’s only hit you once out of anger but the physical abuse is sexual. One night a year ago, you were looking for a meaningless hookup to get over your ex and John had taken you back to his place. Everything was going great until the point where you two got into it. You backed down at the last second because you didn’t want to do that to yourself, but John didn’t take no for an answer.

He ended up raping you that night and has been almost every night after that. He became obsessed with you and had been for months before that, and now that he got his hands on you, he didn’t want to let you go.

He won’t let you leave, and you don’t know how to break this cycle.

You and John arrive at his friend’s house just as Bucky and Sam get there. It was John’s idea to invite them as a sort of “get to know my neighbors” type deal. He wants to prove to them that he’s just as capable of being Captain America as Steve was. Bucky isn’t going to go for his bullshit but Sam made him come here.

Bucky smiles when he sees you. He’s always thought you were too good for John but he’s kept his mouth shut because it seemed like you were happy in the relationship. However, when you pass by him to get into the house, he can see how terrified you are in your eyes.

“It’s good to see you two. I’m glad you could make it,” John smiles.

The worst thing about John is that he’s super charming and can convince a town full of people that he’s the good guy.

“Sam made me come.”

“Hush,” Sam says and whacks Bucky on the back of his head.

All four of you walk inside and greet the men who are already here. The only other woman who is here is one of John’s friend’s wife. You’d much rather go off on your own with the wife and make small talk but John keeps you by his side all night. Even as he’s talking to Bucky and Sam about his plans regarding Captain America, his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. Bucky looks at you briefly and sees the look in your eyes. You’re smiling and agreeing with what John is saying but your eyes are telling him a different story.

Something is wrong here but he doesn't know what or how to help you.

Eventually, dinner is served and you’re seated next to John and the other woman. Bucky and Sam are on the other side of the table but Bucky’s eyes haven’t left you since you walked past him. It’s bugging him that he knows something is wrong without knowing exactly what it is. Everyone is eating and having a good time while you pick at your food cautiously. You can eat only what John approves of you to eat since he’s told you constantly that he doesn’t want you getting fat on him. If you look a certain way, he’ll force you to lose weight until you can fit into the clothes he buys you.

It’s your fault for eating too much anyway.

You’re not sure how the conversation ended up on languages, but John is always looking for an excuse to talk about this. You’ve pretty much tuned out this entire evening.

“I don’t know if you guys know this but Y/N can speak five languages, Romanian being one of them. It’s the one I find the most romantic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I grew up with it,” you nod.

“Tell them how great I am in Romanian,” John chuckles.

The only other person at this table who can speak Romanian is Bucky. This is your chance. This is your chance to ask for some real help without alerting John you’re doing it.

“Am nevoie de ajutor. John nu mă lasă să-l părăsesc. Mă violează de câteva ori pe săptămână. Este abuziv fizic, verbal, mental și emoțional. Mi-e teamă că mă voi trezi într-o zi să-l văd cu un cuțit în față. Vă rog să mă ajutați. Nu mă va lăsa să plec.”

I need help. John won't let me leave him. He rapes me several times a week. He's abusive physically, verbally, mentally, and emotionally. I'm scared I'll wake up one day to see him with a knife in my face. Please help me. He won't let me leave.

You can’t look at anyone in the eyes, especially Bucky. Still, you peek a look at him to see shock written on his face. He understood every word you said but John is still smiling next to you as if you told everyone how loving and kind he is. John reaches over and grips your thigh gently to let you know he has all the power here.

“What did you tell them?”

You look at John and smile at him.

“How much you love me and how much you treat me like a princess. How much I love you.”

“See?” John chuckles. “She’s a keeper.”

John goes back to eating and chatter resumes as normal. However, Bucky can’t stop looking at you. You lock eyes with him before looking down and finishing your meal. The rest of the dinner goes by without a hitch and John is saying goodbye to his friends.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real fast. I’ll be quick.”

John can’t be his usual self around company so he kisses the side of your head and allows you to do that.

“Hurry back.”

It’s a simple request but it holds so much threat behind it. You leave his side and head to the upstairs bathroom since that’s the only one working. As soon as the door is closed, you rush over to the toilet and throw up everything you ate. You want to cry until there is no more water in you but you have to remind yourself that John is waiting and he’ll get meaner the longer you make him wait.

Someone knocks on the door and the panic and fear in your body spike to a high level. You wipe your mouth with toilet paper and flush the toilet to make it seem like you’re done.

“Who is it?”

“Bucky.”

Relief replaces your panic but the fear is still there. He knows what John does. He knows everything. What is he going to do? You open the door carefully and he pushes his way inside with determination.

“Is what you said true?”

“I can’t do this here, Bucky.” If you talk about it openly, then you’re going to cry and John will know for sure something is up. “If I talk about it, I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop.” You look at your reflection to make sure your makeup isn’t ruined. “I have to go. John is waiting.”

“Wait just a minute,” Bucky says and prevents you from leaving.

“Bucky, please. John will get angry. I need to leave now.”

“John is no longer going to hurt you.”

“What?”

“Stay here and wait for my return.”

Bucky leaves before you can say anything else. John sees Bucky come back alone and he’s getting a bit frustrated with you. He can’t do anything in front of his friends but just wait until he gets you home.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“In the bathroom. It sounded like she was washing her hands when I passed by. Can I talk to you for a second outside?”

John looks confused but follows Bucky outside nonetheless. John passes by Bucky while he stares at his vibranium arm. The metal flexes with power and Bucky is trying so hard to contain it.

“You want to know an interesting fact about me?” Bucky asks and looks at John.

“What?”

“Vorbesc fluent Romana.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m fluent in Romanian.”

John immediately gets nervous. You told him you told everyone how much you love him but based on Bucky’s reaction, he knows you said something else.

“That’s cool, man. You and Y/N have something in common.”

With his vibranium arm, Bucky sends what’s supposed to be a deadly blow to the face. It would be deadly if the person he is punching didn’t have the super soldier serum in him. John crashes into the car behind him and sets off the car alarm. Everyone inside rushes outside to see what the commotion is.

“Never lay a hand on her again!” Bucky yells angrily.

Bucky sends another hard blow with his flesh hand to the side of John’s face. This is when the fight or flight response in John kicks in. He starts to fight Bucky back but there is no use in stopping the Winter Soldier. They both have the serum in them but Bucky has always been and will always be stronger than John. Bucky grabs John’s collar and pulls him up to his feet only to slam him to the concrete down below. Bucky punches John’s chest so hard with his metal arm that John’s ribs break and he coughs up blood.

“Hey! What the hell is going on!” Sam yells and pulls his friend off your abuser.

“He’s a fucking abuser and a coward! He’s hurting Y/N, and it’s gonna stop now. Don’t fucking go near her or I’ll do more than break your ribs,” Bucky threatens.

Everyone looks at John who just groans in pain with his eyes closed. Bucky pushes past everyone to get back into the house and to the bathroom where you are. You’re sitting on the toilet biting your nails nervously. You have no idea what is going on out there or what Bucky can do to help you. The bathroom door opens and Bucky enters without a second thought. You stand up to greet him when you smell blood. Your eyes trail down his body until they land on his flesh hand which has open wounds on it.

“What did you do?” you gasp.

“I should have killed him.” The realization that you’re free, at least at this moment, hits you and the floodgates open. The tears come flowing out and won’t stop, and Bucky pulls you into his arms. “He will never hurt you again. Sam and I have an extra room you can use.”

Your grip on him gets tighter.

“Thank you,” you cry and shake in his arms.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[beansricejc]

"need him to pull me forcefully onto his lap and ask me where the fuck i think i’m going."

john wick x f!reader ICYMI! note: due to a bit of goofy formatting on my part, this is a reupload from 10/2023. i wasn't able to see any sort of interaction with my one-shot, so if you haven't read it, here it is! pls lmk what you think of my 100 day old baby :') warnings: voyeurism, brief drug use, dubcon(?), exhibitionism, cursing, mean name calling, slut shaming, not proof read!

need him to pull me forcefully onto his lap and ask me where the fuck i think i’m going. - yandere-chan

you don’t ever go to clubs, the only reason why you’re actually here is for a friend’s birthday party. the flashing lights and blaring music were intimidating to begin with, but after popping some sort of chocolate shroom candy, you’re having the time of your life. the way your body is feeling the rhythm of some sort of Billboard Top 100 remix, flowing with the hundreds of other dancers on the floor.

it’s the way your skirt hugs your thighs and ass as you dance is what gets his attention.

john’s here tonight celebrating an old friend’s bachelor party. he’s used to clubs like this. whether it’s for finishing a job or accompanying some sort of high level crime lord for a meeting, he’s quite immune to the vibration of the floor from the huge speakers. he’s unimpressed by the bottle girls that he’s seen come and go over the years, but if someone’s buying, he’ll indulge in a paid blowjob behind a curtain. after helen, he’s given up on romance.

but he’s not exactly known for actually enjoying his night as a regular patron. john’s four whiskeys in, definitely feeling the buzz as his legs are a bit more loose than he’s used to. he’s not on a job. not on duty. fuck it, might as well have fun. this is what he tells himself as he’s nose deep in a line of white powder on a table, his fellow bachelor party members cheering him on in a rowdy manner. the groom himself is getting a lap dance from a bottle girl in their booth behind the curtain, and john takes the opportunity to snap a quick picture of it, just for shits and giggles.

john doesn’t exactly remember how it happened, he just remembers that the woman that he was ogling on the dance floor was now being led behind his group’s curtain. of course this was you, along with a handful of your friends who were also very pretty in their own way. it seemed like the best man of the bachelor party had taken a liking to the birthday girl of your group, and you tagged along for the ride.

he can’t seem to pry his eyes from you. the way you fidget with your soft fingers while your dilated eyes roam across the back room. the way you smile and chat with his buddies as your friends introduce you, john can smell that you’re out of your element. he’s a master at reading body language, it’s part of his job actually. all signs are pointing to that you are quite inebriated, and are clearly not a party girl, despite the fairly convincing front you have on.

you smile politely as you shift your legs. you don’t know why your best friend even followed that guy back here, sometimes you want to smack her for being so stupid. but you’ll smile and bare it for now.

“and this is our buddy, john.” the best man gestures over towards the assassin. of course you don’t know of his profession yet. your shaky eyes drift to his position on the couch. the well dressed middle aged man’s eyes are stuck on you, the way that black skirt looks has him struggling to keep his composure. but he’s a professional, even if he’s not on the job. john has seen and been with his fair share of women.

now he’s picturing in his head of what he’d like to do to you. nothing exactly romantic or gentleman like.

if it weren’t for his own morals, he’d probably stand up and grab you by your pretty little neck. make you gasp for air and tremble under his touch and looming height. john has killed dozens in a single blink of an eye, man handling you and throwing you over the table wouldn’t be an issue. maybe you’d yelp at the feeling of your body being forced down by the dangerous man. maybe you’d even like it. john’s calloused and bruised hands would immediately hike that black skirt up, just to show off your beautifully crafted ass to the entire group of men, and even your friends. maybe you’d plead for him to stop, maybe you’d beg for him to keep going. who knows, perhaps you were a little slut that liked the thought of this happening.

john imagines how the fat of your thighs and ass would feel in his death grip. the strong hold that has strangled the soul’s out of countless adversaries, now grabbing and pawing at your fleshy things before giving you a hard and swift smack on your poor rear. he wonders if you’d struggle or if you’d bite your lip and arch your back. he doesn’t know which response he’d like more.

“it’s nice to meet you.” was the sentence that sucked him out of his head, along with a little smile and wave of your manicured fingers. he notices the polish. a deep burgundy, a vampy color that goes well with the season. so you’re fashionable. he could already tell with the cute outfit that you were donning, but this confirms it. john can appreciate a woman who takes care of herself.

but now there’s an image of those pretty fingers gripping his hard cock, wrapping around the width of his shaft and dragging up and down while a glob of saliva from your plump lips dribbles onto the head. the thought of you licking your lips as your small hand jerks him off, your bare knees earning gorgeous blue and purple bruises from scraping on the marble floor as you do your job oh so well. maybe your teeth would dig into your bottom lip as your eyes would blink up at him, giggling as he moaned out your name.

“come here often?” is what john asks you in return. your head turns to him again and tilts to the side, you didn’t expect the silent and brooding one of the group to ask you a question from the comfort of the velvet couch.

you chuckle and shake your head.

“not at all, actually. it’s my first time here.” you admit, shrugging your well defined shoulders while you peer at him from across the vip booth. you’re still standing in those uncomfortable looking heels, john notes that there are no bruises on your knees. maybe he can change that.

john smiles slightly at your honesty. the way his mouth upturns as his strong looking hands run through his slick back dark hair make your stomach church. you internally curse at yourself, you’ve already had your heart broken by so many men before, and you wouldn’t let this one even get close to trying.

or so you thought.

john’s brown eyes look to your uncomfortable looking feet again, and he situated himself so he’s not totally man spreading on the red couch. his hand then taps the space next to him on the cushion.

“those don’t exactly look pleasant to stand in.” john nods his head towards your heels. you blink in surprise, peering down at your own feet that have been killing you this entire time. so you chuckle and shake your head.

“yeah, doctor scholl probably doesn’t approve of these.” you retort, making john laugh at loud at your statement. you join him on the couch as he’s still chuckling at your expression.

“you’re funny.” john comments, silently noticing the way that damn black skirt rides up your thighs so deliciously as your legs cross. he realizes he’s been caught when those fingers of yours snap in his face, reverting his attention back to your face. john’s face goes a bit red when he sees the scowl you’re giving him, along with a little eye roll.

“oh i’m sure you say that to every woman you want to stick yourself into.” you tell him, there’s a silent agreement between you two that he’s been checking you out this entire time.

john’s shocked by your snarky statement though. he didn’t think he was being that obvious, but on second thought maybe he was. dammit, he was trying to be a smooth criminal with you, only to end up looking like a pervert.

“you sure are confident in yourself, huh?” he sarcastically says back to you. “trust me honey, if I wanted you, you’d know.” he’s forcing himself not to bite his lip at the scent of your perfume, some sort of vanilla cookie type of smell that was lingering in the air between you two. it was going to drive him crazy.

while he says this, you’re busy applying another layer of lip gloss in your compact mirror. John’s breath hitched at the sight of your lips rubbing together to make sure the coat is even, the shimmer on them making his pants a bit tighter.

he wonders how that lip gloss would look on his hard cock as your mouth wraps around his head. maybe that color would look good against his shaft from you placing delicate kisses against the veins of his length. the thought of your pink tongue swirling around his throbbing tip before taking his entire cock down your throat, his hand grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing your face down just a little bit deeper than you’re comfortable with just to assert his dominance over you.

it’s all making his toes curl in his leather oxfords.

he soon noticed that your delicate fingernails, the vampy colored tips, were dragging along the bulge in his pants. his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he grips the leather couch cushion, not daring to making a sudden move. apparently you are much bolder than you made yourself out to be.

oh what he would do to put your in your place. to wipe that shit eating grin off your beautiful face. to whip out his cock and think back to when he hypothetically had you bent over the table for all of his and your friends to see. ripping whatever colored panties you had on, off, and tossing them to the side. one hand firmly shoving your head into the table, another lining up the tip of his dick with your entrance, before mercilessly pounding into your cunt. punishing you for even daring to speak to him in such a manner, in front of his buddies no less. maybe his friends would cheer him on, a few taking out their phones to take a video of it. maybe your friends would be slightly turned on by the roughness and lack of decency john is showing to you. even the thought of your cunt squeezing around his length and cumming from his despicable act might make him burst.

“yeah? you like that? fucking whore.” he’d say to you as he would pin your arms behind your back, giving you another hard slap on your ass. you’d let out a moan and a grunt from the roughness of it all. “tell me you fucking love it, be a good girl for me, come on.” john would growl in your ear, the positioning of him reaching that far would force his cock to be all the way inside of your pussy. the sudden feeling would make you gasp and cry, tears rolling down your makeup covered cheeks as you babbled about how much you loved it.

john suddenly feels the lack of touch on his erection, looking up from his daydream.

“come on dude, we’re all getting shots and then going on the dance floor.” the groom of john’s party calls to him, his group laughs at john’s lack of awareness as most of the crowd exits the vip booth from behind the curtains.

you’re the last to stand up, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your skirt before you joined the rest. you believe you’ve won this round of teasing with this complete stranger.

oh how wrong you are.

a surprised squeak escaped your glossy lips as you feel john’s strong hands grip your hips and waist. his nails dug hard through your clothing, using those unstable high heels to his advantage. your balance in those was subpar at best anyways, and now, he could easily snatch you up, even from where he was sitting.

“h-hey!” you squeal, john could fucking care less. your ass falls straight into his lap, with you immediately feeling how hard his is, and how wonderful it feels against your throbbing pussy. even if you did have underwear on, it didn’t matter. sitting in him was definitely going to leave a wet spot.

john gives you a dark and satisfied grin, leaning towards your ear with his hands beginning to hike up your skirt. your heart pounded as he was getting ready to have his way with your poor body.

“where the fuck do you think you’re going?”