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likeumeanit9497 · 27 days

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you jealous? | c.s. & m.s. |

chris sturniolo x reader x matt sturniolo

summary: y/n's secret fwb, chris, teaches her a lesson on sharing.

warnings: SMUTTTT; unprotected p in v; fingering; handjob; oral (f receiving); dirty talk; lowk toxic chris (srry); 2 boys 1 night ;); 18+

notes: hiiii guys!! sooooo i know i have been painfully inactive AGAIN over the past few weeks BUT I CAN EXPLAIN!!! so yes i got back from my trip at the start of aug, but i made a super stupid last minute decision to go back to college this fall, so i had to do all my applications, find a new place to live in a new city, AND move out of my old place all since i've been back. sooo i've been a bit busy hence why i haven't been able to write or post anything since the start of the month. BUT to make it up to u all i decided to write a fic for both the matt and chris girlies teehee. side note this is probably the closest i will ever get to a chris x matt x reader threesome okay i can't handle much more than this before it starts feeling weird af, BUT i hope u guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it (can u tell the duo streams are making it hard for me to pick one straight triplet to thirst over for the week?? hope someone relates) love u all and can't wait to write some more nasty shit <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

As I walked through the front door at the party, I really didn’t know what to expect. Sure, the flashing lights, loud rap music, and the sinus-burning waft of alcohol that flooded my senses as soon as I opened the door were a given, but there was so much uncertainty in my life that the night was feeling almost surreal.

“There she is!” I heard Nick’s bellowing voice through the sea of people as I walked up the front steps and entered the living room. Nick was my best friend, and had been since him and his brothers moved to Los Angeles, and he had decided to throw a ‘small’ party for me when I told him that I got a promotion at my job. Nervous to have so much attention on me at once, I smiled sheepishly as he ran over to me with a bottle of tequila in his hand.

After squeezing me so hard that I thought my ribs might break, he waved the half-empty bottle in my face. “You look sober. You can’t be sober at your own party! Let’s go take some shots.” By his rushed speech and disheveled appearance, I could tell that he had been drinking for a while prior to my arrival. And he was right, I was sober, and with the number of eyes on me and unrecognizable people circling me, I knew I had to gain some liquid courage quick.

“I thought you said this was just going to be a small get together Nick, what happened?” I asked quietly as we reached the kitchen. He grabbed us two shot glasses from the stack sitting on the counter, and rushed to the fridge to grab me a High Noon before pouring the tequila. “It’s LA, Y/n, this is a small get together. And besides,” He handed me an overflowing shot glass, “Everyone loves you. Now hurry up and cheers me.” Rolling my eyes, I obliged; lifting my glass in the air and clinking it gently against his before bringing it to my lips and tilting my head back.

The first shot is always the worst, and this one was no exception. I felt the burn as it traveled down my throat and into my stomach, and I winced before finally giving in and chasing with the High Noon that Nick had grabbed for me. “Wooo!” Shouted Nick before pouring more tequila into our glasses. “Hold on, what are you doing?” I tried to protest by covering the top of my shot glass with my hand. Without hesitation, Nick swatted my hand away. “You need another silly. Everyone here has been drinking for hours.” Grumbling under my breath, I let him pour another one, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the person I was most anxious to see would make an appearance.

As if he had sensed my nerves, it was just then, as I was bringing my second shot to my lips, that I saw him walking up the stairs leading to his bedroom. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hurriedly took my shot before chugging half of my drink at once in an attempt to calm my mind. I still had my drink at my lips when he noticed me; his droopy blue eyes scanning the room before they landed on mine. He smirked, soft pink lips curled up in a taunting manner, before waltzing over to where Nick and I were standing.

“Hey there.” He chirped, leaning against the counter just inches away from me. “Hey Chris.” I replied, keeping my tone as nonchalant as possible as I felt his gaze burn into me. “When did you get in?” He asked as I continued to avoid eye contact. I took a sip of my drink. “Just a few minutes ago.” There was a silence between the three of us; the awkwardness so intense that I felt like I could explode. “Okayyyy, I’m gonna go say hi to a few people.” Nick stated before quickly rushing off to the living room, leaving me alone with Chris.

“So,” Began Chris, “Long time no see.” I felt him take a step closer to me before running his hand lightly across the small of my back. Reacting to his touch, I inhaled a sharp breath and my eyes shot to his. “Very funny.” I responded, my voice a low whisper as if anyone could hear our conversation above the loud music and steady chatter in the room. He chuckled, still rubbing my back discreetly. “I thought so.”

It had actually been less than 24 hours since I had seen Chris. Just the night before, my wrists had been tied to his headboard while my legs were wrapped around his waist. A few weeks ago, after a night at the bar with Nick, Chris and I had had rushed, sloppy sex on their living room couch when Matt and Nick were asleep. Since then, him and I had fucked at least a dozen more times without telling a soul. I couldn’t bear the thought of my best friend finding out that I was sleeping with his brother, and Chris couldn’t stand the thought of anyone knowing anything about his personal life. Plus, there was something so sexy about our little secret; and I worried that if anyone found out about what we had been doing, the adrenaline that flooded my veins every time he looked at me with that knowing gaze, or touched me covertly, would disappear.

Over the past few weeks, there had been moments when our secret was almost revealed. Like the one time, when I was changing in Nick’s room, when he saw the dark blue hickeys all across my chest and stomach. Or another time, when I rolled up my sleeves to wash my hands in the kitchen and Matt asked me about the marks on my wrists. Both times, I froze; but both times I was able to come up with little white lies on the spot. I had made up a fictional man — one that lived in another city and they certainly didn’t know — that I had been seeing, and after sharing perhaps too many explicit details, they had both believed me.

Other than that, there had been no other times where people seemed to have any inclination of what Chris and I had been doing — most likely because we hadn’t been around others since we started hooking up. Tonight was the first time that we were going to be drinking with a big group of people, hence why I had been so anxious about how the night might go.

“You wanna go downstairs?” Chris’ voice in my ear pulled me from my thoughts, and I felt that familiar jump in my stomach from the thought of being alone with him right now. However, I was still sober enough to remember that we had to be careful, so I took a moment and glanced around the room. Everyone seemed pretty drunk, but the night was still young, and it was too risky yet. So, I shook my head softly. “We can’t yet, let’s wait for it to get later.” I was whispering just like he had been, and I felt his hand move from my lower back down to my ass, where he cupped it and gave it a generous squeeze. “Got it.” He replied, before snaking off and leaving me alone in our corner of the kitchen. Sighing, I reached for the bottle of tequila that Nick left behind; pouring myself yet another shot. Tonight was gonna be a long night.

𓆩♡𓆪

After a few more shots and a couple High Noons, I was drunk. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to ease my nerves, because I had spent the past hour or so watching Chris get progressively closer to another girl. As I leaned against the kitchen table attempting to keep up a conversation with Matt, I watched as he went from innocently chatting with her, to draping his arm across the back of the couch where she was sitting, to him now; pulling her onto his lap as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

I tried to act as unbothered as possible, but it wasn’t easy. It’s not like I had any romantic feelings for Chris — him and I had both made it abundantly clear that it was just sex — but I couldn’t help but see red as I watched her run her hands through his messy curls as she rolled her hips on his lap. It was just that the sex that him and I were having was so good, I selfishly didn’t want anyone else to get it from him.

Groaning under my breath, I made an excuse and snuck away from Matt before walking to the fridge to grab one more drink. As I was rummaging through the fridge’s contents, I felt a warm hand brush against my bare leg. “You ready to sneak away now?” His words were hushed just like before, but I couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. “You can’t be serious.” I replied before closing the fridge and cracking open my drink. Now facing him, I noticed he had a confused expression across his face.

“What happened? Did that girl on the couch give you blue balls?” Even as I spoke, I recognized how stupid and bitter I sounded. A slight twinkle formed in Chris’ eyes, causing me to grow even more angry. “What are you talking about Y/n?” He asked, a small smile crossing his lips. I rolled my eyes, growing increasingly more angry. “The girl who’s tongue was just down your throat. What happened to her?” I asked, noticing how drunk I was sounding. Chris stared at me for a moment, before tilting his head slightly to the side. “You jealous?” He asked, and in that moment I wanted to smack him.

“Of course not,” I said, walking in the direction of Matt’s washroom in an attempt to escape this increasingly uncomfortable conversation, “But you’re crazy if you think you’re gonna come to me only when plan A fails.” Trying the door, I realized that the washroom was locked and I groaned. Chris had followed me down the hall, and now he had me cornered. Just as I was about to turn around and get past him back to the kitchen, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into Matt’s room.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed in a harsh whisper as my sense of sight was almost completely removed by the pitch-black darkness of the room. I heard the door slam shut behind me, but when I turned around, I could just barely see the outline of Chris’ frame standing just inches from me. Just then, I heard a low chuckle come from his direction. “I can’t believe my Y/n is jealous.” He said, taking a few more steps in my direction before grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him.

“You know that you’re my favourite girl baby,” He started, bringing a hand to my throat and squeezing gently. My head was tilted up, and in the poor lighting the only thing I could make out were his bright blue eyes reflecting my own nervous expression. “But you’ve gotta learn how to share.” Before I could even roll my eyes at his statement, I felt his warm thumb press against my lower lip; urging it open. With hitched breaths, I obliged; parting my lips and opening my mouth slightly.

With his hold on my neck, he tilted my head back even further and I felt, more than saw, his lips just centimetres from mine. Then, without warning, he spit a pool of his saliva into my mouth with expert precision, and at that moment all of my walls caved in. “Now be a good girl for me and get on Matt’s bed.”

With red hot arousal already coursing through me, I didn’t hesitate before rushing over to the unmade bed in the centre of the room. The sound of my racing heart in my ears and the rush of excitement that I was feeling was enough of a distraction from the fact that I was draping my body along a bed that didn’t belong to either Chris or I. The fact that almost anyone could walk in at any moment, and the view that I had once I faced Chris, was enough to cause my head to spin.

There, just in front of me, was a now-shirtless Chris. From my position on the bed, he was looming over me; and the smirk plastered to his face was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. My needy eyes trailed slowly down his body, first his chest; down to his stomach; then his waistband — wait, what’s that shiny thing in his hand?

As if he heard my thoughts, Chris dangled the object teasingly, allowing me to realize what it was — the silver handcuffs from his room. “Were you just carrying those around all night?” I asked, locking my eyes back on his. He shrugged. “Didn’t know when I was finally gonna be able to use them.” I rolled my eyes, but as I opened my mouth to deliver a snarky reply, I was abruptly cut off by his lips on mine.

Hungry, drunk lips moulded to mine — they tasted like him. All of my annoyance with him dissolved within an instant as he wasted no time in peeling my clothing from my body; only breaking the kiss for a moment as he pulled my shirt over my head in the space between us. Immediately, his hands flew to my lower half where he simply lifted my skirt to give himself access to his favourite part of my body.

He squeezed my ass so hard that it hurt in that deliciously erotic way. Pulling me onto his lap, I felt his growing member press against my aching core as he continued to massage my ass like it was a life source that he had been deprived of for years. Low moans passed through his lips as he indulged, and I felt my body begin to tremble in painful anticipation. “Chris.” I whined before subtly grinding my core against the part of him that I needed most in that moment. I felt his lips turn up into a smile. “What’s wrong Y/n?” His voice was playful but rough from arousal, “I could’ve fucked you hours ago, remember? Then you wouldn’t be so painfully worked up.” I groaned again, not caring how desperate I felt as I dragged my soaked core up and down his clothed shaft for the second time.

Chris used his harsh grip on my ass to lift me off of him, causing me to release a frustrated sigh from the lack of contact. That quickly changed once he slid my panties to the side and used his fingers to gingerly graze my aching centre. I released a soft hiss as his fingers reached my swollen clit; hoping more than anything that he would spend extra time there. He chuckled at my noises, but any care I might have had over that dissipated as his fingers drew rapid circles on my bundle of nerves.

Tucking my head into the crook of his neck, I had to bite hard on his shoulder to keep myself from screaming out profanities from the immediate pleasure that I felt circulating in my body just from his touch. “You know, Y/n,” Chris began, his words coming out choppy from his quick movements, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were turned on watching me with that other girl.” I stayed silent, feeling tears well up in my eyes in the same way that my orgasm was welling up in my lower stomach. With all the strength I had, I managed to shake my head weakly in response to Chris’ words; causing him to chuckle.

“You might not think so, in your mind, but your pussy is telling me something different.” Just then, two of his long fingers slipped effortlessly inside of me. Unable to hold back now, I released a sharp scream into his bruised shoulder. His fingers began moving in and out of me slowly, curling right up to my g-spot each time. “Oh yeah,” His fingers began picking up speed; filling the room with the sounds of my arousal, “You hear that? You’re pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, it’s giving away your deep dark secrets.”

Moans now fell from my lips carelessly as his actions and words brought me closer and closer to an earth shattering orgasm. Maybe he was right, maybe there was a part of me that loved the thought of him being with another girl. Maybe I liked the idea of watching from the sidelines as he touched, kissed, or even fucked other girls.

Or maybe I just loved the idea that, no matter how many other girls he’s with, he will never find a better fuck than me.

That was the last thought I had before my mind was overtaken by the tidal wave of my orgasm. Arching my back in pleasure, I moaned out profanities as Chris’ fingers worked my pulsing core. I felt my legs shake as the relentless euphoria tore through my body, until Chris quickly removed his fingers from my core, lifted me up off of his lap, and bent me over the side of the bed all in one motion.

The cool air against my soaked and exposed core caused me to gasp, but still I waited exactly where he placed me with trembling limbs as I anticipated his next move. The sharp sound of a zipper filled the dark room, and after a moment I felt the heat from Chris’ member press against my wetness. Immediately and without thinking, I began rolling my hips in a weak attempt at relieving the unyielding want deep inside of me, but a firm hand on my hip promptly stopped all movements. “Wait one minute, Y/n.” Chris said, and I heard the sound of metal clanking together before the ice cold handcuffs were placed around my wrists.

I felt my stomach do a flip just like it always did when Chris tied me up in any way that he could, and once he was content with their placement, he gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands as he used his other to line his shaft up with my opening. I felt his tip slide up and down my slick folds a handful of times, causing an anticipatory shiver to crawl up my spine, before the indescribable satisfaction of feeling his length stretch my walls caused me to sigh in relief. That satisfaction was quickly replaced by gritty need as Chris began slamming his cock deep into me at a relentless pace. His hand tightened around my wrist as he gained momentum, causing the harsh metal of the handcuffs to dig into my skin; increasing the pleasure that I was feeling.

The room was filled with the sounds of my ass slapping against his front, and I knew even without him saying anything that the view he had was driving him crazy. Just as expected, his hand dropped a sharp smack to my left ass cheek before gripping onto it ruthlessly. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me baby.” Chris’ voice was already deep and guttural, and I could tell that he wasn’t gonna last very long. Moaning in response, I bit onto the comforter beneath me to muffle the sound as I relished in the feeling of his cock hitting just the right spot on each harsh thrust.

“This is what you needed, huh? I knew by your attitude you were dyin’ for it.” His filthy talk was enough to send me another strong wave of vertigo, and I felt my restrained hands desperately try to grab onto him in any way so that I could stabilize myself. “You know this cock is yours,” Chris continued, both his movements and his voice now growing choppier, “But just because something is yours doesn’t mean you can’t share.” I felt my body begin to tense up, goosebumps raised on my skin as I felt my pleasure begin to boil over.

“Fuck, gonna cum baby.” Chris’ words were rushed, and as he spoke them he quickly pulled his swollen length out of my wincing core. After a few pumps in his hand, I felt his warm fluid shoot onto my back and collect in a small pool. As he came down from his high, I heard small grunts leave his mouth and I wanted nothing more than to use my own restrained hands to milk him dry. After a few moments of silence, both of us simply catching our breaths, Chris spoke. “Sorry, Y/n, I didn’t expect to cum so fast.” He massaged my ass with his hands as he spoke.

“It’s okay.” I replied, though the screaming need in between my legs was saying otherwise. “Get up on the bed and arch that back, I’ll get you there.” His words caused my body to quiver once again. Just as I was about to do as he told me, the shocking sound of a door opening caused me to freeze in place like a deer in headlights.

“Chris who the fuck are you talking to in my ro-”

The familiar voice filled the room and deafening silence immediately followed. Chris’ hands were still on my waist, and I felt my skin grow hot in embarrassment. In the heat of everything that had happened over the past little while, I had forgotten who’s room we were in. But now, that person’s voice pulled me back to reality, and I was reminded of the fact that my naked body had been pressed against his bed as I was fucked senseless by his brother.

Still, no one was speaking. My face was buried in the comforter, where I planned on keeping it in order to avoid facing the situation I found myself in. The silence felt like a fifty pound weight pressing against my bare back, and I prayed to the universe that someone was going to speak. Just then, I felt Chris shift behind me; placing a hand on the back of my neck and leaning towards my ear.

“I know how to share what’s mine. Watch this.”

His words sent chills down my spine, and that chill was exemplified once I felt the heat of his body move away from me. Through the pounding anxiety in my head, I was able to hear a few footsteps followed by an entire conversation performed in well-executed whispers. Chris and Matt spoke in hushed tones for what felt like hours as I continued to stay in the place that Chris had left me; my heart racing and breath heaving at the thought of what they might be talking about. Chris’ last statement was ominous, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher what he meant: he wanted to share me with Matt.

As they spoke to one another, I went over the idea of it in my head. It was wrong, for sure. I was already fucking one of my best friends’ brothers, but to fuck both of them in one night was too far. Plus, I had never had any interest in Matt before. Him and I were friends, sure, but not once had I considered doing anything more with him. Because I was already fucking his brother, and his other brother is my best friend. It was wrong, end of story.

But then why did I feel a new trickle of my own arousal fall down my leg at the thought of Matt’s eyes glued to my naked body right now?

I’m fucked.

“You okay, Y/n?” I heard Chris’ voice and it pulled me out of my trance. I knew what he meant by that. “Yes.” I replied, wincing at the desperation laced through my tone. A chuckle came in response, then the sound of the door opening — bringing with it bright lights and an increase in clarity of the constant party chatter — before it clicked shut; and then, silence.

I could hear nothing around me but my own heavy breathing, and if I didn’t know any better I would genuinely believe that I was alone in the room at last. But I did know better, because I could feel his tired blue eyes on my body. I still hadn’t moved, couldn’t move. My face was still buried deep in his comforter and I was too afraid to face him yet. My legs felt like jello, and I knew that if I wasn’t already bent over his bed, I would have collapsed by now.

Finally, I hear footsteps. They were slow, and I couldn’t tell which direction they were going, but he was finally moving. Next I heard the shuffling sound of some sort of fabric, then more footsteps. This time, I was sure they were heading for me. I was proven right when I felt the heat of his body behind me. Suddenly, I released a sharp gasp when I felt the soft material of a towel against my lower back. Matt wiped the pool of his brother’s cum off of my lower back in silence, and even the accidental brush of his knuckles against my clammy skin set me on fire.

“So, this was what those marks on your wrists were from.” He finally spoke, and his voice in this setting was so unfamiliar that I physically jumped. In my silence, he assumed I didn’t understand what he meant, so I felt him tap lightly on the metal around my wrists. “The handcuffs.” He clarified even further. “Uh,” I cleared my throat, trying to sound confident, “Yeah.” At that, I felt his hands travel around the perimeter of the cuffs, trying to find something, when suddenly I heard a faint click and my wrists were free.

Taking the cuffs completely off of me, he rubbed my aching wrists gently with both hands. Even this touch, one seemingly so innocent and caring, shot waves of pleasure to my core. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His words grounded me for just a moment; reminding me that this is in fact real life, yet still I responded with zero hesitation. “I’m sure.”

Again, silence. But this time, it was accompanied by the remarkable feeling of Matt’s gentle fingers trailing down my spine, leaving goosebumps in their trail. “Turn around for me.” His voice had dropped an octave since he last spoke, and while it was still far from threatening, it was no longer the comforting tone he had used as he took my cuffs off.

The shame I had previously felt from the situation had been stripped off of me by his touch, so I barely hesitated before lifting my head off of the bed and turning my body so that I was now facing him. In the dark, the outline of his body looked nearly identical to his brother, but I was able to easily tell the difference. My body didn’t react in excited fear when I saw his frame, but instead it responded in anticipatory comfort; as if I knew I had nothing to be nervous about.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, I watched his chest rise and fall in silence for a moment. Unable to really see his eyes, I was unsure what he was looking at, but I knew he was looking at me. Just then, I watched as he climbed onto his bed, meeting me where I was. He leaned so close to me that I had to allow my head to fall back against the comforter. Now laying on top of me, using one arm to brace his weight, I suddenly felt the lust seeping out of his veins just before his lips attached to mine.

His lips were slightly softer, and slightly fuller than Chris’, and they moved with just the slightest bit more apprehension for a moment. That quickly dissipated, however, as after just a few short moments I felt his tongue run against my lower lip; begging for access to my mouth. I obliged, and relished in the new and exciting taste of him. His lips were cold — the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his skin told me that was because he had just been outside — and they felt amazing against my own hot, swollen lips. As I felt one of his hands snake up to my chest, I released a soft moan. My pleasure began to double, and then triple, when I felt him squeeze my tit and run a thumb along my hardened nipple before doing the exact same to the other one.

Having complete access to my hands for the first time in what felt like forever, I used that to my advantage and began exploring Matt’s body. His frame was slightly thinner than Chris’, and I relished in the feeling of a raised, fresh tattoo against my fingers as I traveled down his arm. Reaching his waist, I grazed my hand against his clothed member; already painfully hard and pressing against his jeans. As I palmed it a few times, Matt released a soft moan in my ear before moving his mouth down to my left tit; swirling his slippery tongue against my nipple and causing me to shutter in pleasure. After taking his time with the left, he moved his mouth to the right. While Chris’ favourite part of my body is my ass, clearly Matt has found his own personal favourite.

While the feeling of his mouth on my tit was already causing my head to spin, I desperately needed more. I fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans, before slowly pulling them down his legs and hopefully granting his member some relief. With his mouth still on my tit, Matt helped me by pulling them down the rest of the way, along with his boxers. Once his boxers were off and his cock was able to spring free, I immediately grabbed it in my hand and began pumping up and down. Another soft groan left his lips, and the vibration from it against my sensitive nipples caused me to moan in reply.

As I pumped his member in my hand, I felt his own hand trail down my body before finally landing on the place where I needed it the most. As if he knew my body by heart, Matt found my clit in seconds and wasted no time before rubbing it at the same pace that I was jerking him off at. His mouth detached from my tit and found mine, but in our world of equal pleasure the kiss was sloppy; our mouths fell open at times and tongues swiped in and out mindlessly.

“Y-you feel good?” Asked Matt, his voice soft and choppy at the same time. Nodding my head, I widened my legs with the desperation of needing more. “Want to feel all of y-you Matt.” I whispered, opening my eyes and finally meeting his. In the dim light, they were glossed over. His pupils were so dilated that, if I didn’t know him before, I would have assumed his eyes were brown. He blinked at me for a quick moment, but didn’t make me wait long before positioning himself in between my legs.

I watched in awe as his body hovered over mine. I flinched slightly as he lined his member up to my opening; my core still slightly sore from a few minutes ago. Noticing, Matt looks back up at me. “I’ll go slow, okay?” Nodding, I drop my jaw as Matt sinks into me, keeping true to his word but still bottoming out. I felt every inch of him stretch me out, and as he stayed still to allow me a moment to adjust to him, I couldn’t help but release a frustrated moan. As if he has been in tune with my needs for years, Matt takes this simple remark for what it means, and slowly began thrusting into me.

Although his pace is slow, his shaft pleasures what seems like every nerve inside of me before finally reaching my spongey g-spot with a quick snap on each thrust. His movements are so pleasurable it’s almost excruciating, and I struggle to keep the moans from falling helplessly from my mouth. What’s more, is that even with my eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, I can feel his eyes on my face, taking in every expression and hushed sound that I make. “You want more?” He asks, his voice in a strained whisper. I shake my head. “N-no. Keep going just like that, please.” I reply, and I release a breathy moan when I feel him wrap my legs around his waist before continuing in the same unbeatable rhythm.

I run my hands through his dark brown hair, before allowing them to rest on the nape of his neck. I relished in the feeling of his back muscles tensing on each meticulously controlled thrust, before pulling his head down so that I could kiss him. Normally, I’m not someone who cares much about kissing during sex, but there was something about the deprivation and tenderness of his soft kiss that seemed to bring me even closer to an orgasm than his cock did. As he kissed me, his pace never wavered, but I could tell by the soft grunts falling from his lips that he was getting close.

As if reading my mind, he suddenly pulled out of me and I felt him shift on the bed. Thinking that he was about to cum on my stomach and that I was going to once again be deprived of an orgasm, I felt embarrassing tears well up in my eyes. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the sudden feeling of his tongue twirling skillfully against my clit. My hands immediately flew to his hair, and I was no longer capable of holding back the moans that fell from my lips. As he continued eating my pussy, he slid two fingers into my core and began pumping them the exact same way he pumped his cock into me just moments before.

In that moment, I was in total euphoria. I was sure that my knuckles were turning white from the death grip that I had on Matt’s hair, just as I was sure that if anyone was on the other side of the bedroom door — or, in the bathroom for that matter — they would definitely hear the filth that was falling from my mouth. But I had lost the ability to care, because all of my thoughts were highjacked by the unutterable levels of pleasure that were surging through my body in that moment.

And what made everything that much more intense, was the fact that Matt so clearly loved what he was doing to me. Every few seconds, I felt a deep moan fall from his mouth and vibrate off of my bundle of nerves, and in the off chance that I had my eyes open, watching him, I noticed him grinding his hips against his bed to gain some sort of relief. “I-I — oh fuck! — Matt, I’m c-close!” I exclaimed, feeling the waves of my orgasm rise threateningly close to the surface.

At my proclamation, Matt moved in one swift motion and slid his cock back into me. His pace was the same as it was before, but this time his thumb found my swollen clit and he began rubbing it quickly. “Gonna cum too. Where do you want me?” My legs were back around his waist, and my fingers were digging into his shoulder blades as I struggled to gather my thoughts. “Anywhere you want Matt!” My words breathless and exclamatory, I was barely able to get them out before an indescribable orgasm tore through my body.

I might have truly screamed out in pleasure, and dug my nails into Matt’s skin so far that he bled, but I have no way of knowing for sure — I had lost all of my senses through the overwhelming waves of pleasure. All I remember is feeling as if the pressure that had been building up inside of me for so long had been too much, and my brain had exploded. For what could have been minutes or hours — but which was probably only a few seconds — I truly thought that I might have died. But then, suddenly, I was back in my body, and it was convulsing uncontrollably through a life altering orgasm.

When I came back to my senses, Matt had his damp forehead resting against mine. His body had stilled above me, but I could feel his member twitching inside of me; painting my walls in his signature shade of white. Both of our breathing was ragged as if we had both just completed a marathon, and we both stayed still, in complete silence, as we came down from our highs.

After a few moments, Matt placed a soft kiss to my forehead before slowly removing himself from my centre. I watched him walk over to where he had discarded the towel, picking it up and bringing it over to me to help me clean myself up. So far neither of us had spoken, but I didn’t care very much as my mind was still not fully connected to my body. Finally, he spoke. “You still feel okay about this?” He asked as he began putting his clothes on. I smiled, almost laughing at the absurdity of the caution in his words. “I feel more than okay Matt.” I replied, to which he released a small laugh before handing me my shirt.

Once I was dressed, I managed to get myself to my feet. Standing at the edge of the bed, I suddenly felt nervous about walking back out into the party after being gone for so long. As if he read my mind once again, Matt walked to the door first. “I’ll head out first, then you can come out in a few minutes.” I laughed nervously but nodded. “Sounds good. See you out there.” I watched as his hand reached for the door knob before turning back to the bed to find my phone.

“Oh and Y/n?” I faced him again, “Chris might be good at sharing, but I’m not.”

His words made my already unsteady knees wobbly, and I dropped back onto the bed once he closed the bedroom door behind him. All at once, every moment of the night hit me like a freight train, and I finally realized what happened. I fucked Matt. Just a few hours ago, I was pretending to have a normal conversation with him as I was green with envy watching Chris make out with that girl. I had never planned on doing anything even close to what I had done with him, yet here I am, sitting on his bed. I close my eyes. I can still feel him inside of me. He was so good. But Chris was also sogood. Both of my best friends’ triplet brothers. How did I get here?

I’m fucked.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

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tojilvrs · 7 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ FUCK MY EX! (AND HIS BOSS) ceo!toji fushiguro x fem reader (2.7k)

repost from my old blog!!!

⁂ warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI! toji’s not a bum, reader gets cheated on (not by toji), m receiving oral, pet names, degradation, rough sex, reader’s ex sees them at the end, unprotected sex, creampie, sex as a revenge ploy, some praise, foot on head during doggy (does this have a technical name lol?), also tagging foot fetish JUST IN CASE the last thing counts lol, toji coerces reader, use of the name ‘daddy’ ONCE, spanking, some aftercare, toji steals your panties (and your heart), reader has hair long enough to be pulled

⁂ a/n: this fic literally came out of nowhere i had no plans of writing until i saw twitter porn and a little lightbulb formed above my head. anywho this is not great i wrote and proofread it while i was sleepy so if there’s mistakes don’t tell me i will get embarrassed!!!! THE PACING MIGHT ALSO BE HORRID i was just trying to get my claws on some fictional wiener. k luv u alllll <3

You never thought you could get this low.

You also never thought you’d come home to find your now ex-boyfriend balls deep in his coworker he told you not to worry about.

Way past the stages of hurt and with no more tears left to spill, you found yourself angry. You were pissed at your ex for being unfaithful. Pissed at the woman for fucking around with a man she knew was not available. And pissed at yourself for not figuring it out sooner. Once you got over your sorrows and finally felt able to pull yourself together, you just wanted to rid your apartment of anything that reminded you of him.

That's how you found yourself across the table from that rat bastard's boss. A box full of his old shit perched in your lap and your nails tapping the side of the cardboard. Scanning the room of Mr. Fushiguro's luxurious office and finding yourself filling with rage all over again knowing that the last time you were here, you were helping him get promoted.

"Pleasure seeing you again," you watched as Mr. Fushiguro took a seat in his plush office chair, "though it appears you're here to play the part of 'scorned girlfriend' instead of ‘concerned girlfriend, hm?’ Word travels fast ‘round here.”

"Ex-girlfriend."

"Right," he clasped his hands together over his chest and kicked his feet up onto his desk, knocking over his name plate, “so what're you here for, scorned ex-girlfriend?"

"Just want to give his shit back. Passing it on to you so I won't have to see him and blondie going at it in your breakroom." You watched the man crack a smile before speaking again.

"S'all you’re gonna do?" He knew your answer by the way you tore your eyes off of him and focused them on the box in your lap instead. Slightly slumping down in your chair as if you were a child in trouble trying to evade the scrutinizing gaze of a parent “Oh, don’t tell me you’re just gonna let bygones be bygones and let him get away with it scott free.”

His tone made you feel like your entire situation was almost comical. You looked back up and narrowed your eyes at the man. Scanning his face and watching the scar on his lip twitch when the corner turned up in a smirk.

“Mr. Fushiguro-“

“Don’t have to be all formal now, call me Toji.”

“Okay, what exactly are you implying, Toji?” he sighed before standing up from his desk and fixing his name plate, smirk never falling from his lips and eyes never leaving yours.

“I know he is my employee, but i’m not really… fond of him either. And you’re too pretty of a girl to just let him get away with cheating. It’d make you feel better to hurt ‘em a little bit. Get a little revenge.”

You broke away eye contact from him again to look around his office. Taking note of how sparsely decorated the area was as you pondered and tried to avoid his eyes. It wasn’t the most mature or logical decision, but he was right. It would make you feel better to make him hurt just a little bit. “And how exactly might I go about that?”

Toji laughed a little as he walked around the desk, taking the box out of your lap and placing it on the floor before settling himself behind you. The sweet tobacco scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils as he got closer to you, making his presence feel almost suffocating.

“Y’know what would really get him?” His voice sounded as if it were laced with a honeyed sweetness. The sound surrounding you and ringing around in your ears. He shifted his feet, but you still felt the heat radiating off of him and onto your back.

“What?”You felt him grow closer. Leaning down behind you. So close that you could feel his breath fan against your skin.

“Fuckin’ his boss.”

The lewd suggestion tickled the shell of your ear. Your eyes widening and mouth going dry once you realized exactly what he was proposing to you. You opened your mouth to protest. To tell him how absolutely ridiculous that was, but your words fell short. Closing your mouth again to look down and stare at the indentions the corners of the cardboard box had left in your skin.

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t let your eyes linger a little too long at Toji Fushiguro. Always noticing how easy he was on the eyes when your ex would make you tag along to work events. How his suits would perfectly contour to his body. Showing off his bulging muscles through the fabric. How he seemed to tower over you and everyone else with his height and domineering presence. How your gazes would linger a little too long on each other and how his fingertips would “accidentally” graze your hips when passing you.

You were taken away from your thoughts by the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing up and down your jaw. His touch soft, contrasting the rough calluses that lined his fingers. You also realized he had now moved directly in front of you and you were eye-level with his crotch.

“What’ll it be, sweetness?” The tip of his thumb travelled up to your bottom lip, smearing some of your lipgloss. “Y’gonna let me help you get back at him?”

You slowly looked up at him and nodded your head, still not trusting any words to come out of your mouth. He smiled down at you, removing the hand on your chin to pet your head and using his other to unbutton his slacks.

“Gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget allllll about your little ex-boyfriend.”

You were still looking up at him dumbly as he freed heavy cock from the confines of his pants, subconsciously parting your lips and slightly sticking out your tongue at the sight of him. Relishing in the way he looked at you and the noises he made once his cock makes contact with your awaiting tongue.

“Already so good and fuckin’ obedient. Did he teach you that?” You shake your head and he cackles. Easing his way into your throat. “So you’re just naturally a whore, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, not even hard enough to sting, and moves from petting your head to gripping your hair once you take him all the way into your mouth. Testing your limits and pushing his way past the tight ring of muscle in the back of your throat, loving the way you choke and sputter around him. “Takin’ me so good. Bet that motherfucker couldn’t properly stuff your throat.”

Toji’s right- he couldn’t. He also isn’t quite as big as Toji is either, in both length and girth. It also seems that the man in front of you didn’t learn to fuck from porn like your ex did. Only pushing your limits a little bit at a time and not throatfucking you from the get-go. Also making sure you’re not suffocating on him for too long.

You began to move your tongue over the vein that ran on the underside of his cock, watching in satisfaction as he throws his head back and groans. Doing it again and again and watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit, baby, got the sweetest fuckin’ mouth.” His voice is huskier now, almost breathy. You watch as sweat begins to lightly bead across his forehead and his hands come off of you to loosen his tie around his collar. The air becoming too thick and hot for him. You suck him off with much more passion as you get used to his size. Bobbing your head up and down his length and occasionally pulling yourself off to lick on the sensitive skin around his balls. Not paying much mind to the spit that has run from your mouth and covered the bottom half of your face.

“That’s it- hah- fuck yeah… that’s it. Gonna cum down that pretty fuckin’ throat” You kept up your ministrations, using your hand to lightly squeeze his balls as you took his full length down your throat once more. Listening as Toji’s pants became progressively more and more uneven. Only taking a few more short moments before his abs tighten and he takes in a deep inhale as he shoots his load down your throat. His leg twitching as the coil in his belly snaps. Pulling off of him to stick out your tongue and show him that you swallowed it all.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” He gripped your chin tightly and you nodded your head dumbly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He smiled and gestured for you to walk over to the plush, black couch he kept in his office. A guiding hand resting on your lower back as he layed you down on your stomach. He took his time running his hands from your calves all the way up to your ass, like he was trying to memorize every dip in your skin. Once he reached the hem of your skirt, he flipped it up. Gently running the palms of his hands over the smooth skin and giving the right cheek a harsh slap and soothing the sting with the very same hand that inflicted it.

“Suckin’ dick make you this wet?” Your slick had soiled your panties, smearing onto your thighs. His fingers lightly ran across the soaked fabric. You felt the couch dip under his weight as he settled behind you, feeling the fabric of his haphazardly pulled down pants and the heat of whatever skin that was exposed press into you.

“Sucking yours does.” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side to make contact with your swollen clit. The cool air of his office hitting your soaked center makes you shiver. “You’re gentler than I thought you’d be.”

“Oh baby,” He pauses, taking his hands off of you to maneuver himself around, “you haven’t had the worst yet.”

You’re comfused until you feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance and begin to push in. Your walls greedily sucking him in even though it felt as if he was splitting you in two.

“Tight as a fuckin’ virgin, y’gotta open up for me, girl.” His fingers rub tight circles on your clit. Using that to his advantage to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into you until he’s bottomed out. Your hips arching into him as any remnants of pain begin to wash away and are overtaken with white-hot pleasure. His hands find purchase on your hips as his thrusts begin to speed up. Going harder into you and somehow hitting you deeper each time, causing tears to spring in corners of your eyes.

“Already cryin’ on my cock and we’ve barely even started? Slut can’t handle it?” He slaps your ass again, not caring if it stings. You furiously shake your head as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. Trying your hardest to match his brutal pace with your own hips. “Oh, you think you can take control now, huh? I’d watch it, little girl.”

At first you think he pushes your face into the couch with his hand. That’s until you realize that both his hands are still on your hips and it’s actually his foot that’s found its place on the back of your head as he continues to fuck the memory of your ex out of you. Your pussy clenching down on him at the mere thought of the position.

“Like being treated like a whore don’t you? Shitty man couldn’t do it like I can.” You couldn’t respond back even if you tried. Too caught up in the feeling of being stuffed full by the most skilled man you’ve ever fucked and biggest cock you’ve ever taken. Writhing under him as the pleasure of his tip repeatedly hitting your spot over and over again was becoming almost too much.

Toji must’ve felt the way your pussy began to tighten around him or how your moans were so loud the couch wasn’t muffling them well anymore. His hand snaked around your hip and back down to your clit to rub shapes on it, bringing your closer to your peak.

“That’s right, cum on this cock baby. Hah- cum all over my fuckin’ cock.” He spoke to you through gritted teeth and the sound went straight to your core. It wasn’t long after that your back slipped into a deeper arch and your cunt clenched down on him even harder. A white ring of cream forming around the base of his dick as he worked you through your orgasm and worked himself closer to his.

“Such a good girl. You’re gonna take my cum, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?” You nodded a quick yes, pussy still quaking from your orgasm. the only thing keeping your hips from collapsing into the couch being the vice grip of his strong hands.

The foot pressed into your head was removed and replaced by his right hand gripping your hair and pulling you up to meet his face. Looking him in the eyes for the first time since he started fucking you and seeing the beast of a man he’s become. Pupils blown, hair messy, and face sweaty as his grunts get louder, more aggressive.

“So pretty baby. You’re my good, pretty girl, right? C’mon, daddy a kiss when he cums. You’ve been so. fucking. good.” The last of his words were punctuated by rough thrusts into your heat. His heavy balls slapping against your clit so hard it was making you jump. You craned your head back even more for your lips to meet his in a sloppy, lust-filled kiss as he lets out a final rough grunt into your mouth. The familiar warmth flooding your pussy as his thrusts begin to let up.

He’s gentle with you for the first time in a while, gently resting your head back down to the couch before slowly pulling his softening dick out, tucking it back into his underwear, and smoothing your skirt back down. Rubbing a hand over the arch of your back and letting you rest on his couch as he pulls off your soiled panties and pockets them for himself. Also noticing a patch of your slick that has soiled the front of his pants and smiling as a mix of both of your releases begin to trickle out of your spent hole. Using two of his fingers to push it back in. The room is quiet for the first time in a long while. Only sound being the oscillating box fan in the corner of the room. It says quiet for a while, until you break the silence.

“Don’t even think I can remember the fucker’s name anymore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You turn over onto your back to face him, watching closely as he fixes his suit to the best of his ability. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you again, if you’d like.”

He turns to face you, smirking again, “Can’t say I’d hate that.”

It’s your turn to smirk at him before letting your head roll over and rest again. Consumed with the thoughts of how that was definitely the best revenge plan you ever participated in.

You’re almost drifting off until that same thought wakes you up again. Sitting up to look at Toji.

“Wait, how was any of that a revenge ploy if he didn’t even see it?” Toji smirks, fixing his tie. Not even a second later you hear a knock on his door before Toji gives the visitor permission to enter.

“You wanted to see m-“ Your ex stops mid-sentence once he sees you lounging on his employer’s couch with his cum leaking out of you. “Wait, what is she doing here?”

“Baby brought your shit by.” Toji kicks the box towards him as he pulls your panties out of his back pocket and swinging them around his index finger. “Anything else you need? Or do you just wanna watch me fuck your ex-girl again?”

#forgive me if my blog gets annoying as I repost 🤞#female reader #jjk ‪♡#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji x reader smut #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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pugh-bug · 5 months

Text

Flashing Lights

Art Donaldson x reader

If people like this I’ll write a part 2 and possibly some sub Art fics in the future. Challengers is all I can think about at the moment and this blonde man is living rent free in my brain.

——————————————————————

‘Come on come on, they can never have too many pictures taken of them!’

Your friend dragged you and your mediocre camera, quite forcefully, to Tashi Duncan’s party. It wasn’t just that you hadn’t been invited and that you weren’t remotely a tennis player it was that Ashley’s lame excuse of ‘they need more photographers’ was patently untrue. Everywhere you looked there were photographers with cameras that cost more than your yearly rent.

‘I’ll get us a drink wait here.’

You watched her confidently insert herself into the queue for the bar, in between endless posters of Tashi Duncan hoodies and Tashi Duncan headbands. If you hadn’t been such a feminist you might have felt a little sick from all the masturbatory self promotion.

In your idleness you decided to people watch. There were no less than a hundred people there already, all dressed elegantly with hair and makeup that no doubt took longer to do than the night would even last. You pulled at your tight dress. Flattering? Definitely. Comfortable? Absolutely not. Ashley had the tennis body, the Tashi Duncan confidence and skill but without the praise or queue of fans. You had your camera.

You hadn’t touched a tennis racket since you were ten years old. These people weren’t your peers they were your betters, including the snobby photographers and perhaps even including Ashely. At least she knew what ‘down the line’ meant.

‘Can we go?’ Your voice sounded bitter as Ashley handed you a cocktail. ‘I’ve got two photoshoots to edit for tomorrow and I don’t even like tennis! Why am I even here?’ As your friend defended her plan to ‘sleep with as many rich tennis players as possible’ your eyes wandered once again, this time landing on a man who needed no introduction.

‘Is that … Art Donaldson?’

It was him, smoking a cigarette by Patrick Zweig dressed for Summer. Fire and ice in the flesh. You suddenly felt the need to readjust your dress, your hair, your earrings. To fidget. To fidget and prepare for the chance he might look in your direction and see what he wanted.

‘Fuck me it’s Zweig.’

As Ashley launched into a thesis on why Patrick was the hottest man she’d ever seen, your eyes bored into the side of Art’s head. His curls fell so perfectly on his forehead but all you could find yourself imagining was messing them up. As your staring breached the line of too far, Ashley tapped your arm. ‘Think I should go talk to him? Flirt a bit? He’s a bit of a man whore, I’m pretty sure I could get him.’ Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the recipient of your staring began to move closer.

It only took a few moments for Art to reach yours and Ashley’s corner of refuge but his eyes never strayed from you. Zweig had followed him like a puppy and whilst you couldn’t have cared less where the brunette chose to stand, you could practically feel Ashley screaming in her head.

‘Aaliyah right? You basically murdered my friend out there yesterday.’ As Ashley corrected Patrick’s memory, you forced your eyes to look at anything that wasn’t Art’s knowing smirk in your direction. It didn’t work, in fact your refusal to make eye contact with the future star had made your feelings glaringly obvious.

You’d watched him play many times, instead of doing your own work, and although you found tennis a little boring the man had you riveted. The ease at which he hit the ball with such force, the little hand movements he’d do during a tie break and his cruel habit of taking his shirt off on hot days … you were hooked.

As he eyed your dress you wondered if he’d seen you, made note of just how many matches you’d been front and centre at. Maybe he knew you were an amateur photographer and perhaps his smirk was intended as a mockery of your being there. Art knew you didn’t belong at thee Tashi Duncan’s after party. You both knew it. He looked at you, finally as you’d lifted your gaze, and cocked his head slightly to the side.

‘So, you don’t like tennis?’

Shit.

‘Oh. You heard that.’

‘Yep.’

His voice was glazed with amusement as he sipped his cold beer, daring you to defend yourself.

‘Ashley was invited,’ you lied with little ease. ‘I’m here as her friend- well I guess also photographer but you all seem to have that covered.’ Both yours and Art’s eyes glanced at the gang of professionals taking Tashi’s photo. She was holding the shimmering trophy as if it was nothing of real value, she had the humble but proud smile down. Art clocked your jealous expression and raised an eyebrow. ‘Tashi not your favourite?’

‘She’s pretty amazing and she looks fucking beautiful tonight I can’t lie. I just, I guess I wish I was that talented.’

Despite her successful flirting to Patrick, Ashley heard your little, sad admission. Mentally you scolded yourself for letting Art see your vulnerable side. Instead of judgement he smiled.

‘Are you not the best at getting front row seats?’

He left off ‘at my matches’ but the point had been made loud and clear. You chose not to react and to ignore him completely. ‘Ashley?’ But when you turned your head to your friend you saw her mouth was occupied. Oh.

Art laughed at his best friend. ‘Seriously? You couldn’t go one night?’ No, Patrick couldn’t and he couldn’t find it in his horny heart to feel guilty for stealing your one friend and escape route from you. The pair, still connected by their lips, hurried away from the party and to some poor fucker’s bedroom. You were alone with Art Donaldson and the party that engulfed the two of you had began to die down.

‘I should go too-‘

‘Wanna go down to the beach with me?’

You couldn’t help but scoff audibly at his request. ‘You don’t even know my name.’

Art’s eyes practically gleamed with cheekiness as he moved towards you. ‘Then tell me.’

‘It’s Y/N.’

With a charming smile he repeated his offer. ‘Y/N… wanna go down to the beach with me?’

If a mind reader had been in attendance you’d have been mortified as your first thought was: Oh god have I even shaved?

The decision to take your heels off had been an impulsive one and an instant regret as you felt the brittle sand rub against your toes. Avoiding the broken glass, you walked into Art’s shoulder and quickly apologised. ‘You’re like a baby deer.’

You perched on the rock overlooking the water that moonlight reached. Art’s eyes were transfixed on you as your hair blew from your shoulders. Surely he was just bored and flirting for fun. But you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except Patrick before approaching you.

‘What is it about photography?’ Art gestured to the camera you almost forgot you were still wearing around your neck.

‘What is it about tennis?’

Art lit his second cigarette, took a drag and smirked.

‘I’ll let you answer that.’

Much to his elation, your dress had begun to ride up but you hadn’t noticed. You simply dug your toes in the sand and smiled coyly at the blonde. But how to best handle this?

‘Watching you play tennis isn’t like watching other people play tennis.’

Art grinned, only for a moment, but you caught the ego boost in real time. He moved backwards in his chair, outstretching his long legs and looking up at you with keen interest and quiet amusement. ‘Go on.’

Your mind flashed back to his most recent match. His opponent had purposefully coughed every time it was Art’s turn to serve and instead of letting it distract him or doing it back Art had fired the ball, with force, by his head. It had been a warning, not a greatly subtle one but certainly great to watch. The shock on the boys face as he narrowly missed receiving a black eye had made you laugh and you suddenly remembered Art had beamed at you when you had.

‘You’re just really good at it.’

‘Try again.’

He wasn’t making this easy for you but that didn’t mean you had to shower him in compliments, not when he hadn’t so much as asked you your name until prompted. You watched him, completely settled and comfortable in Tashi Duncan’s deck hair and wondered if someone this confident and talented (and knew as much) could possibly be single… unless?

‘Are you and Patrick just friends?’

He twitched ever so slightly at your question before covering his shock with a chuckle.

‘Umm.. yes. Sorry to disappoint.’

You smiled, suddenly feeling more confident now that you’d put him on the spot for the first time that night.

‘Not disappointed.’

Seeing you at ease, seemingly with any answer he had to offer, Art relaxed into his chair again. A moment of silence passed as the two of you listened to the very end of the party above and the seas tumbling waves. The water was just beginning to reach the rock you’d been safely perching on. A sign to leave.

‘I think I should go back to my ho-AAA!’

You’d barely taken two steps before buried broken glass assaulted your feet.

‘Jesus fuck!’

‘Y/N!’

The pain shot through you from toe to head, it settled in between your eyebrows as you frowned, trying not to scream. Art’s face was a picture of panic. He couldn’t help but notice how much pain you were in from putting weight on your foot, which had just begun to bleed as a thought entered his head.

‘I’ll carry you.’

‘I think I can walk.’

You took a hesitant step further but your foot ,in an act of betrayal, buckled under the pain. Giving Art a look of defeat you sighed. ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to.’

You thought it would feel strange, the man whom you’d been watching almost obsessively for months play a sport you despised carrying you to safety. It didn’t. It felt right. His strong arms flexed under your weight as he took confident but cautious steps to Tashi’s party. There wasn’t much left of it. In fact the only people still there were two photographers packing up their lighting equipment and they didn’t give you so much as a second glance.

‘Any chance you secretly are friends with Tashi?’ Art asked, his voice hopeful, hoping he could drop you off to safety. He pursed his lips when you shook your head. Another moment of silence passed through the two of you but this one was different. You craned your neck out to gage the distance before suggesting:

‘My hotel really isn’t far. A mile at most.’

Art smirked for a moment, forgetting what the actual circumstances were. Your foot had stopped bleeding but you didn’t feel like walking. In fact you were rather enjoying Art Donaldson: the knight in shining armour. It was a good look on him.

‘Uber?’

‘Think of it as a workout.’

It wasn’t the recreational workout Art had been hoping for that night but he did it. He carried you and your shoes to your hotel room. The receptionist barely reacted to your new person but of course what did she care? She was probably only concerned with what mess you’d leave the cleaners.

‘67, this is it.’

Art put you down, keeping his arm around your waist for support. He was a little flushed from the exertion and you were flushed from the pain, or perhaps just his wandering hand.

‘Do you want me to st-‘

‘I want you to stay.’ You interrupted him hurriedly, desperate for him to stay. In that moment you didn’t mind if he stayed to read the complimentary bible next to you or if he wanted to fuck you mercilessly in front of the bathroom mirror. You just wanted him close.

At your eagerness, Art smiled following you in. Your hotel room was not too messy for visitors but it certainly hadn’t been expecting any. For a moment you wondered how Ashley was getting on in her room down the hall and if she too had embarrassed herself in front of her favourite tennis player. Somewhat likely.

‘I think seeing as you’ve carried me bleeding you can see me in pyjamas. Give me one se-‘

You gestured to the bathroom and your dress, looking forward to getting out of it but Art shook his head. You froze. His face was one of sheer determination and unwavering confidence, not unlike the look he gave cocky opponents who needed humbling. He closed the gap between you until his chest was inches from yours but blocked by your camera. You took it off, not breaking eye contact, and placed it slowly on the desk behind you.

Just as you thought the only way to break the silence would be with a kiss, Art broke eye contact. ‘Do you have any antiseptic wipes? Anything to clean it?’ You felt your stomach unclench. ‘Yeah.’ Limping slightly, you fetched a packet from the bathroom sink and placed them in Art’s open palm. He gestured to the bed.

‘Sit.’

His order was polite but you felt compelled. Sitting on your own bed as if it was alien, you looked up at him waiting for the next.

‘Foot.’

Art got down on his knees. Your stomach flipped. With careful hands, he held your injured foot and inspected it. You’d never felt so exposed before, the way his eyes engaged with your wound as if it were more fascinating than any match he’d won. There was an unspoken rule for neither of you to speak as he cleaned you. It stung like a bitch but you only let out minor hisses in pain, barely audible to Art but not unnoticeable.

As he took out a plaster, seemingly from thin air, and applied it to your foot he said: ‘Before tonight,’ Ouch. You winced from the pressure he applied. ‘I’d seen you watching me.’ He didn’t look at you, only concentrating on his handiwork and causing you as little pain as possible.

‘Yeah I gathered from all the teasing.’

His voice grew suddenly lower. ‘I’m not talking about tennis matches.’

You were suddenly reminded of a not so distant memory. Ashley had stood you up for lunch, she’d found a better hot date, and you had been in the cafeteria alone. Art had been queuing in front of you, waiting for Patrick and you’d been in awe. What you hadn’t noticed was that he’d sensed your eyes burning holes into the back of his head long before he turned around. He had given you a passing look of recognition and slight amusement before finding his seat next to Patrick.

You imagined alongside that memory were hundreds others. Hundreds of days you’d stared at Art, watched how he span his apples before eating them and the line of his jaw when he drank water in oppressive heat. All the time he had known, you just hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

‘Oh.’

Art gave you your foot back and sat on the bed beside you. For a moment you couldn’t bare to look at him, incase he disappeared and decided it was funnier to leave you hanging. Your foot was the least of your worries. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really kissed someone, with feverish need, but you wanted to.

Noticing your inward battle, Art raised his hands almost in defeat. ‘I can leave.’ He meant it, there was no judgement. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his clouded with lust, and recognised that this was a man who needed to be wanted. He wanted to give and receive pleasure, not out of boredom but out of a clawing need for it. If you wanted him to leave then he’d leave but if you wanted him to stay then he’d make the most of it.

Your hand settled atop of his.

‘Don’t.’

Part 2

Masterlist

#challengers #challengers fic #mike faist #art donaldson #art Donaldson x reader #art donaldson fan fic #art donaldson fanfic #challengers x reader #challengers art Donaldson #challengers 2024 #x reader

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cinnamostar · 9 months

Text

blind date

pairing : changbin x gn!reader

summary : when you’re set up on a blind date and it turns out to be your ex boyfriend from two years ago

wc : 1.6k

cw : nonidol!au, they’re exes your honor, fluffy, cutesy, not proof read that much idk what else

a/n : wrote this on my phone again so sorry for any mistakes! i don’t really know how to feeeel abt this fic, not my best work but i hope you like it!

you let out a nervous sigh as you enter the restaurant, a cold shiver traveling down your spine as the hostess leads you to your table, one your friends reserved on your behalf. you were starting to regret agreeing to this blind date your friends, hyunjin and felix, set you up on, but they were so insistent on it and said they found the ‘perfect’ match for you. you weren’t sure if you could trust them that much, but you knew at the very least, whoever it was wouldn’t be some creep like your other unfortunate dates.

hyunjin and felix were some of your best friends, ones you made in the last two years since you moved to the city due to a new position you got in your company. you met them by chance through a few coworkers, and since then, the three of you have been inseparable. they were incredibly supportive people, but they were tired of hearing you complain about shitty dates every weekend, so they decided to take matters in their own hands, stating they know this really cool guy through some other friends who was ‘totally’ your type. and apparently this new guy just moved to the city a few months ago too, so you would be the perfect tour guide for him too.

regardless of your nerves, you decide to put your trust in your friends as you patiently wait for this mystery man to arrive. you were curious to know what those two boys believed your type was and what made them so hellbent on making you go on this date, but perhaps curiosity killed the cat.

“hey, sorry im late!” a voice you were all too familiar with rings in your ears, the man before you rushing into his seat across from you with an apologetic smile as your mouth hangs open in utter shock and surprise, goosebumps making themselves known all over your body.

once he sits down, he looks up to meet your flabbergasted expression, the smile on his face falling once the realization hits him. his faces pales, almost as if he just saw a ghost appear right before his very eyes.

“changbin?” you ask incredulously, still not able to accept the ridiculousness of the situation.

“y/n?!” he mirrors your tone, except he was far more boisterous than you, causing a few heads to turn as he flashes a sheepish and apologetic grin to the other patrons around you two.

“i… uh, you’re my blind date?” he questions in a lower volume with raised eyebrows.

you sigh, an astounded chuckle escaping you, “i guess so…”

“i see… since when did you move here?”

“uhm, a little bit over two years ago. i ended up taking that promotion my company offered me,” you respond, a hint of anxiousness trembling through your words.

“oh, so, basically after we broke up..?”

“mhm,” you hum in confirmation, your body feeling tense due to the awkwardness that hung in the air between you two. “felix and hyunjin told me you just moved here, right?”

changbin nods, “yeah, one of my old friends needed a roommate and i just kinda wanted a fresh start, so i took my chances. how do you know hyunjin and felix?”

“coworkers,” you reply shortly, not really sure what to do in this situation.

“oh, cool! they’re old high school friends of mine, we only reconnected recently,” he smiles gently, biting his lips due to his nervousness, “i’m sorry if this is awkward.”

“ah, no, it’s okay. it’s no one’s fault, this is just some crazy coincidence,” you reassure him, “we don’t have to go through with the rest of the date, it’s okay to end it he-“

“no, no!” he interrupts, a dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks, “if you’re okay with it, we can just use this to catch up, no? it’s been awhile since we last spoke.”

you let out an uncertain sigh, “i’m fine with it, it’s just that we really didn’t end on the greatest of terms, did we?”

changbin’s face grimaces as he reflects back on the last months of your relationship, ones that were filled with constant fighting and disagreements over the littlest of things, which ultimately led to a very over dramatic break up since you both had become sick of each other over time. “no, definitely not,” he chuckles, “but we can catch up like old friends, no? unless, you wanna miss out on a lovely time with me, then that’s your decision,” he teases, the old changbin you once fell in love with slowly peaking through.

you roll your eyes playfully, “right, it would be a shame if i missed out on something like that,” a smile breaks out onto your face, a sudden wave of butterflies and shyness overtaking you. “sure, let’s catch up. i don’t mind.”

“great,” he clasps his hand almost as if he was celebrating this small victory, an embarrassed smile taking over his features, “well, i guess hyunjin and felix weren’t lying when they said this ‘mystery date,’” he lifts his hands to do air quotes, “would be my ideal type.”

you shake your head, laughing at his statement, “right, they weren’t wrong at all. maybe they were a little too spot on.”

somehow, those two hit the nail on the head and somehow paired up two former lovers through some miraculous twist of fate. there was no denying that your heart still had room for changbin, a piece of it feeling empty since your relationship with him ended. at the end of it, you had chalked it up to right person, but bad timing, as each of you were far too engrossed in each other’s career goals that inevitably took time away from the other. it wasn’t the right set of circumstances for either of you, as nether of you were at a stage of life where you could nourish a healthy relationship. he was once the person you imagined to spend the rest of your life with, but at that time, you thought if you weren’t able to bear hardships with him, then maybe he wasn’t meant to be that person. it was easier to accept you two were never meant to be, but your heart knew better than that. your heart knew he was the one, but that life just cruelly got in the way of your relationship with him.

eventually, the waiter came around to take down your orders, briefly interrupting the flow of conversation you and changbin were having. in some strange way, talking to changbin against was incredibly refreshing, as you missed the sense of safety and familiarity he brought with him. he was still the same sweet and endearing changbin you once fell in love with all those years ago, and maybe those feelings of love never truly left your heart as each time he would giggle, your heart would thump out your chest. you found yourself having to resist the natural urge to hold his hand, or to reach over and pinch his cheeks like you use to do back when you were together.

you missed this, and you missed changbin more than you could’ve ever imagined. his very appearance was enough to rekindle old flames of affection you once held for him, ones you never thought you’d be able to experience again. you both were enjoying every moment together, laughing and poking fun at each other as if nothing had ever changed, and before you knew it, two hours had gone by in the blink of an eye.

changbin insisted on walking you to your car, matter-of-factly informing you it’s what chivalrous men like himself do, which sent you into a small fit of giggles.

a gentle breeze bellows through you both, a comfortable silence filling the air, the awkwardness from earlier no longer to be found. you look up to the night sky, taking a chance to admire the full moon that glistens above you.

“you know, whenever i look at the moon, i still think of you,” changbin confesses in a hushed whisper, a longing look in his eyes as if he was looking off into some distant memory. you turn to him with a quizzical expression, urging him to go on. “you use to always tell me to look how pretty the moon was nearly every night. even if we weren’t together, you would text me to go outside and look at it,” he reminisced fondly.

“you always looked too,” you smile.

“honestly, i didn’t really get it at first,” he laughs, “but i loved you and it always made you happy whenever we looked at it together, so i made sure to look at it every night. even if we were fighting and weren’t with each other. even now, i still look up and think of you.”

your face grows hot as his words fluster you, the unexpected vulnerability catching you off guard, “thank you,” you respond gently, “for doing that for me. it always made me feel very loved.”

“i still do it. i think part of me will always love you no matter what.”

your breath hitches, your eyes widening as he looks away bashfully, not expecting or planning for those words to ever leave his mind. you let out a soft exhale through your nose, a shaken smile taking over your features, “i feel the same way too.”

quietness returns, neither of you sure how to continue the conversation as you reach your car, “well, this is me,” you break the silence, pointing to the car next to you, “thank you for today, it was… fun. i had a lot of fun.”

he nods, “me too,” taking in a deep breath, “do you… do you want to do this sometime again?” he asks meekly, fearing your response.

“yeah, i’d really like that, changbin.”

“okay, great. it’s… it’s a date?”

“it’s a date.”

#cinnamostar writes #changbin x reader #seo changbin x reader #skz changbin #stray kids changbin #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids seo changbin

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callsign-dexter · 9 months

Text

Nightmares

Request: hey love I just saw your angst starter sentences list and I don’t know if you are still doing it so if you aren’t just ignore me lol I have a few so you can pick and choose(or if you don’t like any of them you don’t have to do them no pressure)

Maybe with Hangman and daughter you could use this one

-shh, it’s okay. it was just a dream.

Starter- Shh, it's okay. It was just a dream.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst

Masterlist

miscellaneous angst starters

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this in! The same request from the same requester that had three different starters. The other two fics can be found here: Maverick x Daughter!Reader and Tim Bradford x Daughter!Reader

It had not been a goodnight in the Seresin household. You, Jake’s 6-year-old daughter, had not been sleeping through the night and Jake couldn’t figure out why. Almost on the hour, you would be getting out of bed and padding your way to your father’s room. There you would crawl into his bed and snuggle up with him and at first, he didn’t say anything just simply pick you up and take you back to bed and stay with you until you were asleep and then he would be going back to bed. It was like this for a week. It had been a Thursday night when you had crawled into his bed and he just let you stay there, you seemed the calmest when you were with him but still you would be waking up tossing and turning and waking him up in the process.

Friday morning rolled around and he was tiredly getting up to the sound of his alarm and getting ready before going to wake you up and get you ready for school. When it was time, he began the gentle wake up process that he had always done with you and each time it was success but not this time. He really needed the sleep because a new round of Top Gun cadets was rolling in and he needed to be on his A game. After the mission was completed successfully everyone was promoted to Lieutenant Commander and had been assigned a permeant station as The Dagger Squad under the command of Admiral Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. “Sweetheart, it’s time to get up. We need to get you dressed and ready for school. I promise to get you whatever you want afterwards.” He said hating to go to bribery but he was desperate and it was really the last resort.

“You promise?” You asked him opening your eyes and rubbing them and he smiled a soft smile. He could see the bags under your eyes and they weren’t as bright as normal.

“I promise.” He said

“Chick-fil-A?” You asked tiredly and he hated that sound coming from you.

“Anything for you, Sweetheart.” He said and you nodded and then hugged him around the neck and then he picked you up and you both began the process of getting you ready. It didn’t take that long, thankfully.

“Will you do my hair?” You asked him and he nodded.

“How do you want it?” He asked standing behind you as you ate.

“French braid on the side and pulled back in a ponytail.” You said taking a bite of your waffle that he had made along with coffee and getting it ready to go while he was getting ready and letting you sleep.

“You got it.” He said and began his work by brushing your hair and then beginning to braid. It didn’t take long and he was done by the time you finished breakfast and then you both were out the door and into this truck. You had fallen asleep on the way to school and he allowed it just wanting you to get some sleep even if it were for 20 minutes. 20 minutes came by fast and he was waking you up once again and helping you out of the truck and walking you to the entrance of your elementary school. He bent down to your level as he put on your backpack. “Remember be good for your teachers and be nice to everyone. I’ll be back to pick you up after school.” He said and you nodded. Usually, he would have your babysitter pick you up but he decided he would due to wanting to be with you especially with you having little sleep, which sometimes messed with your mood.

“You got it, Daddy.” You said and he smiled and kissed you head as you hugged him and then your teacher was leading you as you both released each other. He and your teacher both said their greetings and then he was on his way to his truck and to work while ignoring all the mom’s staring.

Jake made it to his truck and got in he quickly sent a text to your babysitter letting her know what was up. Then started his 20-minute drive to base. He was lucky that he was able to get a house that was 20 minutes away from your school and 20 minutes away from the base. When he arrived and parked in an empty spot next to Bradley’s Bronco he got out and grabbed his stuff for the work day and started his trek inside while taking sips of his coffee every now and then. He sighed when he sat down in his chair when he got to his office. He closed his eyes for a minute before there was a knock on his door and he opened them to find Javy standing there. “You look like hell.” He said and Jake nodded.

“I feel like it. What’s up?” He asked

“Everyone is meeting in the rec room before classes start and while introductions are made. Figured you wanted to join.” Javy said

“Ok.” He said and got up while grabbing his thermos of coffee and they headed that way. They hardly talked while making their way to the room. When they got there everyone greeted them and they greeted them back.

“You look like hell.” Natasha said and Jake rolled his eyes.

“That’s what Javy said.” He said

“Everything ok?” Bob asked and Jake smiled sweetly at the WSO.

“Y/N hasn’t been sleeping well. Waking up on the hour. She’ll crawl into bed with me and then toss and turn which ends up waking me up.” Jake said taking another sip of his coffee. When they learned about you, they were shocked but it made sense as to why he wasn’t taking women home and drinking much. They were also shocked to learn that Jake had been married to a Naval Officer that was KIA and became a widower and he still wore his wedding ring. They had been married for 10 years and just right after you had turned 5, she had been deployed and then Jake was getting the notification that she had been KIA. He had been raising you for a year on his own and it hurt but he put on a brave face and powered through. You both still talk about her a lot and you both keep her memory alive. She was the female version of Jake.

“Do you know why?” Bradley asked and Jake shook his head.

“No idea.” He said and then Warlock was walking in ushering them to the classroom. Introductions were made and the training began. Jake was sluggish going out to the tarmac and Maverick took notice of this and pulled him aside.

“You ok?” Maverick asked as he walked next to the blonde hair usually cocky pilot.

“Not really.” He said and this worried the older pilot because usually he was full of himself.

“What’s up?” He asked

“Y/N hasn’t been sleeping the greatest and has been getting in bed with me and waking up on the hour. When she is in bed with me, she is tossing and turning waking me up. We’re just exhausted.” Jake said and Maverick felt sorry for him.

“Do you want to sit this round out? I’ll go up in replace of you.” He said and Jake nodded.

“That would be great thank you. Also, I need to leave early, I’m picking Y/N up instead of her babysitter.” He said and then turned around and headed back to his office to get caught up on some paperwork and maybe a little shut eye while he had his door closed. The time to leave to pick you up was quick to approach and he was booking it out of there. He barley said bye to his fellow team members and was on his way to get you and your Chick-fil-A. He arrived at the school and parked and went in to pick you up and then when he got back to his truck and buckled you in and then headed to Chick-fil-A and got your and his regular. When the both of you got home, he pulled his truck into the driveway and then killed the engine and got out and then you while grabbing your backpack and lunch box and the food. “Ok, Sweetheart. Let’s eat and then watch some TV.” He said and you nodded tiredly. He sat you down at the table and then you began eating supper was quiet and he could see that you wouldn’t last long. Once supper was done and trash was thrown away you both headed to get changed into more comfortable clothing and then headed to the living room where he opened Netflix and then you both settled on a kid appropriate movie. You snuggled up to him and he wrapped his arms around you. You made it through 3 movies and 20 minutes into the fourth movie you were out and it was 10 PM, he tended to let you stay up later when the weekend was approaching. Jake headed into your room and laid you down and tucked you. He turned on your F-18 nightlight and then kissed your head “I love you, Sweetheart.” He said and then walked out to watch some TV of his own.

Jake got an hour into his show when he heard whimpering, crying and then shouting. He was quick to pause the show and then rushing to your room from his to find you tossing and turning. He rushed to you and sat on your bed and took you in his arms “Shh, it’s okay. it was just a dream.” Jake said soothing until he had you waking up slowly with sniffles. “You’re ok. Want to tell me what it was about?” He asked in a soothing voice looking down at you.

“You went up in your jet and then something happened and you crashed and died with Uncle Bob and Aunt Natasha.” You said and Jake’s heart broke.

“Oh, Sweetheart. Nothing bad is going to happen. You know why?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Why?” You asked

“Because I’m the best of the best and your aunts, uncles, and I will always protect each other.” He said and smiled and hugged you tighter as you sniffled. “You think you can go back to sleep on your own or do you want to sleep with me?” He asked.

“You, Daddy.” You said

“Ok, Sweetheart. Let’s go.” He said and picked you up and you snuggled into him. He carried you to his room and sat you on the bed. He got in and you snuggled into him and once he felt your breathing even out, he resumed his show. After a while, he turned it off and then settled down to go to sleep. You both got a full night’s sleep and were well rested to started the weekend.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

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brotherwtf · 2 months

Note

your trophy wife x criminal fic, which was MINDBLOWINGLY AMAZING, made me think of this old tumblr post that was basically like a romcom idea au for a chief police officer x mob boss who are married but have to pretend to ‘accidentally’ miss shooting each other everytime they see each other or soemthing

thank you so much anon! I'm glad you liked that fic!!

omg that would be such a funny concept for clegan, just two absolute fools in love with each other

They met when John was just a lackey and Gale was a beat cop, nothing really important of either or their schemes lmao

They start goofing around, fucking and going on dates as they each rise up the ranks of their respective businesses

It hadn't been a problem, until Gale got promoted to police chief and John finally became the boss of his crime syndicate

It was now Gale's problem to solve the issue of organized crime in the city, and he knows that John is a pretty big part of it

John will tell Gale when they're doing a job or smth illegal so that Gale can only arrest the lackeys without getting John in trouble

Gale will tell John when there's a pursuit so that he can get as many men out of there as possible

Hilarity ensues: "Gale you SHOT at me!" "I was doing my JOB dumbass!" but eventually just go back to their bed together and sleep together

Gale will always give John a signal or smth when they're pursuing him to like run down a different alleyway to escape the police, Gale is just all 'oh drats we didn't get him oh well better luck next time' and returns home to John and his cocky smile

John spoils Gale so much with his money from being a mob boss, Gale has to pretend that the lavish gifts he receives are from rich family members and not the number one crime syndicate in the city

Gale is a romantic, likes to take John on dates and wine and dine him, spoils him in a different way that John does

ANGST TIME (wouldn't be a post by me if there wasn't angst): Gale gets kidnapped or John gets arrested, either are very likely scenarios and the other literally rips through walls to try and rescue the other. They won't stop until their love is safe 🥹🥹

Plenty of hurt comfort, John gets hurt or smth and Gale nurses him back to health and forces him to take a goddamn break for once, always worries over him and dotes on him

John always makes sure that Gale has protection, police chiefs get threatened a lot, no one is going to hurt his love, not when Johns alive

this was super cute!! they're so stupid for each other it's honestly mad, thank you again for the ask!

#mota #clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #asks

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navybrat817 · 2 years

Text

Muse

Pairing: Artist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky is thankful to have you as his muse. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Fluff, kissing, light insecurities if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's in love (and he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Nix was kind enough to send me an old edit she made and I ran with it for @the-slumberparty 's Across the Universe challenge. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky Barnes hadn't expected to find solace in art when he was younger. It seemed more like a path that his best friend Steve would take, though both of them appreciated expressing themselves creatively. Life also taught him that his road came with unexpected bumps and turns. Trading guns for brushes and pencils after he left the army, art helped him process some of his emotions he long kept at bay. It showed him how to look at life from a different perspective. In some ways, it saved him.

Like you did.

"Mmm."

The moan you let out drew Bucky's gaze up from his sketchpad, smiling softly as you stretched your legs out under the sheets. As tempted as he was to rouse you with his tongue, he decided to let you sleep since he already woke you once in the middle of the night. It wouldn't be the first time he sketched you while you slept.

The pad in his hand was already filled with drawings of you, but one more wouldn't hurt. Over the hours and days spent with you, he studied and learned your body well. He had other sketches and paintings of you in various angles and lightning. Those would never be sold.

Some art that existed was for the artist alone.

The pencil began to move across the paper once more when you didn't stir. If you woke up and caught him drawing you again, you'd shake your head and tell him he had more than enough. He disagreed.

There was beauty in his surroundings, but they paled in comparison to you.

"Bucky," you whispered, sending a shiver of excitement down his spine. Like the color red, you speaking his name invoked deep, intense passion within him. He saw hues in brighter shades thanks to you. "Come back to bed."

"I'm almost finished," he promised.

"You drawing me again?" you mumbled, bringing your hand up to cover your yawn as he kept sketching. "You have enough and I'm a mess."

"Maybe. Maybe not," he teased with a tender smile when your eyes opened halfway. "And you're not a mess. You're beautiful."

And it’ll never be enough.

"Careful, James," you teased back, arching your back as you stretched. "Keep smiling and sweet talking and they'll take away your brooder card."

"We can't have that," he winked.

When Bucky decided to pursue art outside of a hobby, he hadn't meant to become a brooding recluse on purpose. He simply preferred solitude while he worked and he valued his privacy. While he was encouraged to promote his work on social media to help build more clientele, he never showed his face. He let his art speak for itself. It worked.

It was how he came to meet you.

Before he met you in person, you were his favorite customer. You bought multiple pieces and left the kindest comments on his page. He often went back to reread them when he got lost in his own head.

"While there are many beautiful pieces of art in the world, Bucky Barnes gives us work that defines, and defies, beauty. His art can move you to tears or give you hope of brighter days ahead. We're privileged that he chooses to share his vision with us and one can only hope to see the world as he sees it."

He may have moved you with his visuals, but you moved him with your words.

"I have to meet her," he told Steve when you commissioned a custom piece.

Steve couldn't believe it since Bucky hardly ever let anyone into his studio. He said it was the least he could do for someone who consistently showed him support. He wouldn't admit at the time how nervous he was to meet you. Or why he felt so compelled to see the person behind the name since he refused to look for you on social media.

He realized that day it was destiny to meet you.

The artist and the muse.

"Back to bed," you ordered, moving the sheets back as he set his pencil and pad down. He used the opportunity to gaze along your naked frame bathed in the soft light, lingering between your thighs. "Please, Bucky?

"Who am I to deny my muse?" he smirked, slowly standing from his stool to stretch. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and he had thrown his dark hair up in a bun to keep it out of his eyes. "Especially when you look at me like that."

I'm littered with scars and you gaze at me like I have no imperfections.

"Have you seen you? You're gorgeous," you said, patting the mattress for him to sit.

“Not as gorgeous as you.”

“Take the compliment, brooder,” you said with a sleepy grin.

When he took a seat with a chuckle, you stopped him before he could lay over you. Instead, you took his right hand and had him stay in place as began to gently massage it. You commented more than once about how long and thick his fingers were and how warm to the touch they were against your skin. Working at his hand in tiny circles, you carefully rubbed out any tension you sensed. While you focused on the task at hand, he took another minute to gaze at you in wonder.

My beautiful muse.

"There," you said, kissing his palm once you finished.

"Thank you," he said, resting the same hand over your heart.

He watched and felt your chest rise as you inhaled. The steady beat grounded him. He was lucky enough for you to let him paint you with his love.

Inside and out.

"Do you ever regret it?" he asked as he traced a small heart on your chest.

Your forehead scrunched as you looked at him. "Regret what?"

"Choosing me," he whispered.

You had a chance to live a life of luxury and you walked away from it for me. Do you regret following your heart when you could've had so much more with him?

You exhaled as you pushed yourself up to face him and placed your hands on both cheeks, making sure he was looking into your eyes. "I will never regret choosing you or being yours," you whispered back.

Bucky's eyes softened as he smoothed his left hand down your back and dropped a kiss to your mouth. He lost himself in the feel of your lips and tongue, an exchange of desire he only got to experience with you. He didn't live a life of glamor, but he would forever give you a life of love.

"Now use me as your canvas," you said as the kiss ended.

Like Bucky said, who was he to deny his muse?

I love Bucky in love. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #artist!bucky barnes #artist!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #nix #nix edit #nixakimbo edit #nix akimbo edit

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venus-haze · 1 year

Text

Kick It Out (Queen Maeve x Reader)

Summary: Maeve doesn’t date, for her own good and that of anyone she might be interested in. Teaching you how to kickbox definitely isn’t dating, even if the two of you do flirt every time you’re alone.

Note: Female reader with some references to being plus size, but not enough for me to designate the fic as such. No other descriptors are used. This takes place slightly before Homelander outed Maeve, but she still does a lot of internal shittalking about him. Hopefully I did well with her characterization because I’m already planning a follow-up. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Some references to homophobia Maeve’s experienced. Homelander vaguely threatens the reader to Maeve. Semi-public fingering, Maeve's kinda rough. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

It was a coincidence, really, when Maeve walked by Vought’s employee gym during one of the yoga sessions that was part of HR’s company wellness initiative. She’d forgotten Vought even had that, not interacting much with the corporation's rank and file on a regular basis and using The Seven’s exclusive gym to train. The employee gym was spacious, clean, and at that moment filled with dozens of Vought employees in a rainbow of athleticwear. Maeve could remember the old Jane Fonda workout tapes her mom used to put on in the mornings, how pleased she was with little Maggie’s rapt attention at the videos. You always need to keep your body moving, Maggie. It’s so important.

Her eyes scanned the group lazily until they landed on you in the middle of a stretch that made Maeve feel like that little girl staring at Jane Fonda in spandex all over again. She licked her lips, giving you a quick once over before anyone could notice. You would become target number one the moment Homelander got a whiff she was remotely interested in you. Her fists clenched at the thought of how he–and her own complacency–ruined her relationship with Elena. She couldn’t do that to you, not that she even knew your name, and she wouldn’t learn it if she could help it. She wasn’t that selfish.

At least, that’s what she thought, until somehow she kept running into you. An interview here, a briefing there, she wasn’t even sure what you did at Vought exactly. It didn’t matter. You clearly hadn’t drunk the Kool-Aid, viewing your job as a way to pay the bills instead of the feverish devotion so many of its employees had. She started looking forward to seeing you, taking the opportunity to stand next to you when she could and exchange quips back and forth about how corny a promotion seemed or how weird the marketing team was.

Like clockwork, though, you’d be in the employee gym whenever the yoga classes were being held. She casually brought it up one day, asking if you were really that into yoga, or just taking advantage of the free classes.

You nodded. “Yoga’s nice, but I’d love to get into kickboxing or something. I’m kind of nervous to sign up for a class. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up.”

“I can teach you,” Maeve said, the words coming out of her mouth before she could even think.

“Are you sure? That’d be great, but only if you have the time and everything.”

“Yeah, let me give you my number. It’ll be easier to plan that way.”

You handed your phone to her, and she quickly entered her personal number into your messages, texting a simple ‘Hey’ to herself. She hesitated a moment before giving you back your phone. Okay, this was for real. She was committing to it.

“I’ll text you later. I’m free most weeknights, so just let me know,” you said cheerfully.

A sour mix of excitement and regret clouded her mind until you left, and as she walked down the hall to the elevator, she thought she’d at least have a chance to at least convince herself that it wouldn’t be that bad. She was never that lucky.

“Uncharacteristically nice of you to offer to help out Y/N,” Homelander said, almost as if materializing out of nowhere.

Maeve balled her hands into fists at her side. Why did he always have to be lurking? Recently, he had been fucking off to god only knows where, sometimes for days at a time. Of course he had to be around when she finally made a move. “I’m just full of surprises.”

“Your heart’s beating like a racehorse, Maeve. You’re not that excited about just practicing some kickboxing moves, are you? I’d be a better partner than her, in that case. You and I are practically indestructible. Her on the other hand—it’s amazing how fragile humans are.”

Maeve remained silent, letting out a shaky breath as she refused to acknowledge his taunting.

“You think she knows her sports bra is a size too small? I mean, one downward dog and her tits are practically spilling out of—“

“Get a grip,” Maeve snapped.

“Hey, don’t be like that. It’s just locker room talk,” Homelander said, a menacing smile plastered across his face. “Speaking of surprises, I wonder what Y/N would think if she knew this was all a ploy for you to get into those tight yoga pants of hers. I guess I can’t blame you. Not exactly my type, but with the way you can see her panty line through them, she’s practically asking for it.”

“Asking for what?” she asked, standing taller as she looked him in the eye, daring him to make his threat.

“Hit a nerve there, huh, Maeve?”

“Mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.”

“Well, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” he said abruptly.

She knew him well enough that it meant someone was coming down the hall, and he didn’t want them hearing a word he said. Scoffing, she shook her head as she walked away, trying to keep a brave face as she made her way to the elevator.

Storming into her suite, she slammed the door behind her and threw the nearest breakable object at the wall before collapsing onto the couch, her head in her hands. Fuck. She’d been too obvious, too careless, and now you were going to be on the receiving end of it. Keeping her distance wouldn’t be fair to you, and it’d only put you in more danger when it came to Homelander. As much of a Girl Scout as Starlight could be sometimes, at least she was willing to risk it all for Hughie, even when he was lying through his teeth to her about Butcher and Compound V. At the very least, Maeve could do the same for you moving forward.

Still, she decided she was way too sober for her liking, and dug through her cabinets to find a half-drunk bottle of vodka, wanting to escape the gravity of the situation she found herself in for just a little while.

The next day, she woke up a few minutes past eleven, her head pounding as she checked her phone. A few missed calls and texts, including one from you: ‘Hey! Homelander said you were sick. Hope you feel better soon💐’

Between the thought of Homelander being near you and her raging hangover, Maeve leaned over the side of the bed, throwing up into the nearby trash can. She got another text from Ashley, asking if she’d still be able to do her designated crime fighting schedule that night since she was supposed to team up with A-Train. Staring at the text, she grinned, getting out of bed to choke down a few aspirin and make her way to crime analytics.

The department’s office was depressingly dark, and the girl who nervously pulled up the schedule for the next few weeks looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Opening the notes on her phone, she quickly typed what days and times Homelander would be away from the tower. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d do while she figured out how to take control of the situation.

Your kickboxing lessons with her began a little after seven on a Thursday evening. Maeve had asked you to keep everything under wraps, claiming she didn’t want everyone pestering her to train them. This was a one-off thing because you were friends. She was relieved at how your face lit up when she put it that way.

The whole arrangement made her realize how rusty she was at flirting with someone she was actually interested in, as opposed to the sleazy guys she’d bring up to the tower for one-night stands only to kick them out afterward. Training with you was great, you were eager to learn despite struggling to pick up some of the moves. She took the opportunity to stand close to you, putting her arms over yours and guiding your movements, her body framing yours. Sometimes her hands would linger over your skin, feeling how soft you were against her until she felt you shiver or heard your breath hitch. The physical, intimate closeness drove her crazy. In those moments, she wondered what your whole body felt like, your stomach and thighs surely plush beneath her fingertips.

Things came to a head during your fourth training session. Homelander hadn’t been at the tower for a day or so, and you were acting bolder. There was no way you didn’t catch her staring at the way you bounced around while Heart’s ‘Kick It Out’ blasted from the speakers you’d connected your phone to. She was sure you were doing it on purpose at that point.

“I think I’m almost as good as you,” you joked, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead.

She laughed. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Bring it on!”

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you stood across from her on the training mat. Your stance wasn’t the best, but you were trying despite her dodging your blows with ease. Just because she liked you, it didn’t mean she was going to hand you a win. You were having fun, a smile on your face as she caught your lifted leg before you could really kick.

In any other scenario, she figured you could hold your own pretty well in a fight with a non-supe. You threw a punch which Maeve blocked without so much as blinking. One more time, you went for another kick, only for her to send you flat on your back with a thud.

She pinned you to the mat, the two of you silent except for your breathing. Maeve didn’t do anything but stare at your face, just mere inches from hers for a few moments. God, you were fucking pretty. Your eyes seemed to sparkle despite the harsh gym lighting, and your parted lips were almost calling to her.

“You win,” you said softly from beneath her.

“Do I get a prize?”

“Wanna get drinks after this? On me?”

She smiled, reluctantly getting up from on top of you. “Hope you have your credit card ready.”

You took her outstretched hand, almost surprised at how fluidly she pulled you up onto your feet, until you remembered she was the strongest woman in the world, after all. The fact that she was getting drinks with you was a plus.

“I know a few places in my neighborhood, if you don’t mind going out to Brooklyn,” you said. “They’re kind of dives, but they’re fun.”

“That honestly sounds perfect.”

“Okay. I’m gonna shower and change really quick.”

She nodded. “Take your time.”

As soon as you disappeared into the locker room, Maeve looked down at her costume, internally groaning. It was the furthest thing from inconspicuous. In all honesty, she missed having a secret identity, the small thing that separated her from the persona that Vought manufactured for her. Whether for sentimentality or foolish hope of a situation like this one, she’d kept some of her street clothes.

Glancing at the locker room again, she decided to rush up to her suite and throw on something that would afford the two of you some privacy. Tapping her foot impatiently, she waited for the elevator doors to open before slipping inside and pressing the button for her floor.

When she reached her suite, she frowned at the selection of clothing in her dresser. Touching one shirt, she felt a lump form in her throat. The somewhat coarse fabric sent memories rushing back, she’d worn it on one of her last dates with Elena, before she handed her whole life over to Vought and Homelander sunk his hooks into her. There was a slight stain on the sleeve, evidence of Elena’s wine glass that had tipped over when some asshole decided to make it clear that he didn’t approve of their date, so he had to make it the whole restaurant’s problem. When he started becoming aggressive, Maeve grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him over, knocking him into at least three other tables with the sheer force she used. That was the catalyst for her initially fake relationship with Homelander, as Vought’s marketing team decided it would improve her image after the incident.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she tried grounding herself. Things could be different with you. She’d take back control of her life—from Vought, from Homelander, from her own self-sabotage. Her outfit choice for the kind-of-but-not-really date was simple. She ran her fingers through her signature styled waves, messing her hair up a bit to make her less recognizable. Seeing herself in the mirror, she smiled. For the first time in months, she looked and felt like herself.

Her phone buzzed, and to her relief, it was a text from you.

‘Hey! Ready to go when you are🍻’

Biting her lip, she retyped her response to you three times before sending, ‘Great be down in a min😄’

She instantly regretted her choice of emoji, but it didn’t matter, something that simple wasn’t going to ruin her night. After all, she couldn’t remember the last time she was asked out by someone she actually liked. You hadn’t explicitly said it was a date, but the tension was there, and Maeve hoped to god she wasn’t reading too much into things.

You were waiting in the gym for her, now changed back into your work clothes of a blouse and skirt. In the meantime, you had pulled up the info for some of the bars that you and your friends frequented in your neighborhood. She looked over them quickly, settling on a 70s-themed one you recommended based on the decor and cheap burgers. Her mind raced while the two of you walked down the hall and to the elevator, deciding to leave through a service corridor rather than the building’s main floor.

As the elevator made its descent to the lower levels of the building, Maeve figured she at least owed it to you to let you know what you were getting yourself into. She’d already put you at risk with the amount of time she was spending with you. You looked at her in confusion when she pressed the emergency stop.

“You know this isn’t just drinks, right?”

You smiled a bit, “What is it then?”

“Y/N, I’m serious,” she said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Maeve, can you just be real with me instead of the cryptic shit?”

“Fuck," she groaned. "Okay, look. I’m into you, but Homelander’s a jealous son of a bitch who won’t let me have a life, so the fact that we’ve been spending time together and going out for drinks means you’re in serious danger.”

You were quiet for a few moments. She took your silence as an understandable rejection, moving to press the emergency stop button to bring you back up until you spoke.

“I’ll take the risk.”

“Are you sure? Y/N, Homelander won’t hold back. I’ll do what I can to protect you, but–”

You looked at her, really looked at her, as she laid out the risks for you clear as day. It didn’t matter. You’d come to the conclusion pretty quickly that she was worth it. She was Queen fucking Maeve for Christ’s sake. Most importantly, though, you were into her too, and you’d never forgive yourself for passing up the opportunity to go out with her and see where things led.

As she was in the middle of listing ways Homelander could kill you, you interrupted her with a quick peck on the lips, enough to startle her out of her rant for a moment. That seemed to get the message through, because she kissed you, backing you into the elevator wall across from the closed doors.

You parted your lips for her, happy to let her take the lead as she cupped your cheek in her hand, her fingers pulling your face closer to her. Even though she’d just pinned you to the floor less than an hour earlier, you were taken aback by how strong she was. She bit gently on your bottom lip, her teeth tugging at it before kissing you again.

Groping one of your breasts through your blouse, she moved her hand further down your body until she reached your thighs, her fingers gently tracing undistinguishable patterns into your skin. You could feel her start to play with the hem of your skirt before sliding her hand beneath it.

You whispered a soft “yes” against her lips when her fingers brushed against the damp spot on your panties. Pressing her fingers against your core, she watched your face contort in pleasure as you whimpered for more.

It felt like eternity before she finally pushed her hand past the cotton material and began teasing your clit, ignoring your aching pussy. She pressed hot, open kisses against your skin before settling on the crook of your neck, biting into the tender skin so hard you almost thought it would break.

“Maeve, fuck,” you moaned.

“Too hard?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Harder.”

Maeve grinned, slipping her index and middle fingers into your pussy, and you were almost embarrassed at how wet you were. She didn’t care, curling her fingers inside you, pumping them in and out until your breath caught in your throat. You gasped as you gripped her shoulders, trying to keep your legs from giving out from under you. Using her other hand, she held you up by your thigh, her fingers squeezing your soft flesh.

You leaned your head back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as she began rubbing her thumb against your clit, bringing her attention back to it as your pussy clenched around her fingers. She brought her lips to your ear, her teeth grazing your earlobe before she whispered, “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“I’m close,” you barely managed to say.

“Don’t hold back. I wanna feel you,” she said, her voice raspy as she squeezed your thigh for emphasis.

“Fuck–fuck, I’m–”

You came on her hand, fully relying on her strength to keep you up as she kept fingering you through your orgasm. Pressing her lips to yours, you were hardly able to kiss her back as you moaned into her mouth, your fingers clawing at the wall behind you as you tried getting a grip on something.

Finally, she pulled her hand from your pussy, and the one that had been holding you by your thigh wrapped around your waist to support you. She brought her hand to her mouth, licking your juices off of them so casually you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. You kissed her again, feeling lightheaded at the taste of yourself on her lips. Still, you figured someone must have noticed by then that the elevator wasn’t working. You didn’t even want to think about anyone finding you and Maeve like that, especially if Homelander ended up hearing about it through the grapevine.

“My roommate’s working the night shift,” you whispered, your voice noticeably hoarser than before. “I’ve got beer at my place.”

“Fuck the bar,” Maeve said, kissing you again.

You let out a yelp that dissolved into a fit of giggles as she literally swept you off your feet. She smiled, pressing the emergency stop button, sending the two of you back down to the service corridor you’d be slipping out into the night from.

#queen maeve x reader #the boys x reader #queen maeve #maggie shaw #maggie shaw x reader #the boys #queen maeve imagine #the boys amazon #the boys tv

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year

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New in Town - Ch. 3: First Family Dinner

Sarah comes to visit and has questions for Joel. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut :D Yeah, they're horny, OK? Just expect a lot of smut in this fic. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.1k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel actually felt pretty damn smart when he got to his house. He stopped at the trash bin that sat outside the garage and dropped his now empty coffee cup into it, just in case Sarah asked why he’d gone to the place with the name stamped on the side of the cup.

He didn’t have a good fucking reason to be at a coffee shop by your apartment besides being at your apartment. And he knew he wasn’t ready to tell his daughter about the fact that you two were… whatever the fuck you were.

What were you doing with him? What did you want with him? Why was it so hard to know and why was he so fucking afraid to ask?

Didn’t matter now. The morning Sarah showed up to surprise him with a visit was not the morning to be having this discussion.

“Baby Girl?” Joel called as he closed the door behind him, dropping his keys on the table in his entry way.

“Dad!” Sarah flew around the corner and launched herself at him, just like she’d done when she was a kid. He caught her, the air knocked out of him, laughing as he caught his breath. “I missed you, old man!”

“Missed you too, Baby Girl,” he said, setting her down and stretching out his back. “But you’re gonna have to cut me a break, think my back is gettin’ too old to be catchin’ you like that.”

“How am I supposed to properly shower you in affection if I can’t just throw my whole body at you?” She smirked. “But fine, I guess if it’s for the sake of your health…”

He rolled his eyes and tugged her against his side, kissing her temple.

“Just gotta have you move back closer to home,” he gave her a squeeze. “Wouldn’t need to tackle me if I just saw you more.”

“Yeah, I’m working on that,” she smiled. “Trying to get promoted from junior copywriter to intermediate so I can come to the Austin office sooner rather than later…”

“That’s amazing Baby Girl!” Joel gave her another squeeze before leading her to the living room and settling on the couch. “I’m sure you’re close, they know how good you are.”

“Speaking of my grand plan,” she said. “I see you’ve been hanging out with my work wife.”

Joel coughed to try to hide his surprise.

“What?” He asked after a moment.

“Well I know you didn’t do the Seattle Zombie 5K last Halloween,” she nodded at his shirt. Joel felt his stomach drop. “But I know we did.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Not doing a walk of shame are you?” She asked, her eyebrows raised.

“You ever known me to be the walk of shame type?” He asked, scrambling for a reason that he’d have your shirt. “I just fixed her garbage disposal for her a few weeks ago, got soaked. She was nice enough to give me a clean shirt so I wasn’t drippin’ wet on the drive home. Didn’t realize it’d made it into my dresser is all. I’ll have to wash it again, give it back…”

“But you are hanging out with her then?” She asked. “I mean, you said give it back like you were going to see her again so…”

“We went out once since I helped with the sink and shit,” he said, telling himself that it wasn’t a lie, not really. You’d only successfully made it out of the house together once. Sarah scrunched her nose. “What, Baby Girl?”

“Nothing,” she sighed. “I was just hoping you guys would be friends is all. You’re both kind of alone down here, you know? I worry. I don’t want you doing nothing but sitting in the house doing… whatever weird old man stuff you do.”

“I don’t do weird old man stuff…”

“And leave her alone too long and the next thing you know she’s on the dating apps and she ends up going out with some total idiots,” she said, ignoring Joel’s protest entirely. “Really, Dad, her taste in men is shit and I’m not here to keep her busy, I was kind of counting on you here.”

Joel frowned.

“Not on you to protect her,” he said. Though, from what little he knew, Sarah was right. Your taste in men was shit. “And I’m sure she’s got better things to do than hang out with someone who does ‘old man things…’”

That was something that Joel had been thinking about a lot over the past two weeks. Yes, you seemed to be about as insatiable for him as he was for you and he didn’t have any damn clue as to why. But he could think of plenty of reasons why you shouldn’t be. How long was it going to be before you realized that he didn’t offer you much? He couldn’t take you to fancy restaurants every week or on nice trips. He wasn’t interested in another child and you were still young enough that you might want to be a mother. His body was often sore and worn after decades of damn near breaking himself to make a living. How much longer would you be wanting to pull him into restaurant bathrooms and make yourself come on his leg because you just couldn’t bear to wait anymore? How much longer could he text you to bitch about work while on a break at a job site and have you respond with a gif from Sharknado because you knew it would make him laugh? How much longer could he look at the selfies you sent him and think to himself “that’s my girl,” even though you weren’t even his girl now let alone in the future?

He was already in too deep with you, way too damn deep. Someone was going to have to pry you out of him, you’d already settled inside his skin and he liked it that way. Liked thinking of you first thing in the morning and just before he fell asleep, liked that you were the first thing on his mind when he got lunch at a food truck and he stumbled on something really good, liked that you showed up with his favorite beer and some obscure snack food when you came over to his place because you said you saw it and thought of him.

“Her taste in men isn’t dangerously bad,” Sarah waved him off. “Just… she tends to go for guys who definitely don’t deserve her, you know?”

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “I know.”

Fuck, did he know.

“Anyway,” she said with a dramatic eye roll that reminded him of when she was a teenager. He smiled a little. “I’m in town until Wednesday! I know you’ll have to work…”

“I can take a few days off,” he said quickly. “Get Uncle Tommy to make sure shit doesn’t go sideways…”

“Awesome!” She perked up at that. “Because I think there are at least two Curtis and Vipers I haven’t gotten around to seeing yet and I’m going to require a handcrafted Dad burger - preferably grilled - while I’m in town. My apartment doesn’t let me have a grill on my balcony, it’s so dumb.”

“Probably a fire code thing, Baby Girl,” he smiled. “But I think we can swing some movies and a cookout while you’re here. Tommy’d love to see ya, Maria too.”

“Can we start by jumping in the pool?” She asked. “Because I haven’t gotten to swim in months.”

“Might be a bit cold…”

“Please,” she scoffed. “This is mid-summer weather in Seattle, plenty warm enough for a swim.”

Joel smiled.

“Whatever you want, Baby Girl.”

The water was definitely colder than Joel would normally jump into but, for Sarah, he’d do just about anything.

He was still getting used to drinking with his daughter, the two of them floating around the water with beers most of the day. Joel got out for a bit to make sandwiches - he put potato chips on Sarah’s just like he had when she was a kid - and he just listened to what she’d been up to, hanging on her every word.

Joel had always felt incredibly lucky to have Sarah as his daughter. There were the obvious reasons, of course. She was kind and thoughtful, she was smart as a whip and loved to do well in school to the point that he almost never had to tell her to do her homework, she actually liked spending time with him. But she never had a problem being open with him about damn near anything.

It wasn’t always the most pleasant experience - hearing about boy problems when he couldn’t actually intervene was harder than Joel had expected it to be - but he was grateful for it. He never had to wonder what his daughter was up to, she just told him.

Part of it, he was sure, was because he’d asked her to grow up too fast. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but it seemed to come with the territory of single parenthood. There was no one there to back him up when he had to work late, no one there to take over the child rearing when he was sick or just so exhausted from work that he slept through his damn alarm. Sarah fell into the role of second parent, sometimes raising herself as much as Joel had.

He was just happy she didn’t resent him for it. She seemed to recognize how hard he’d tried to give her everything, do everything he possibly could to make her happy and give her a good life. Even if it hadn’t always worked, he’d always tried. The fact that she’d made it to college on scholarship, that she’d finished towards the top of her class, that she’d gotten a good paying job doing something she liked to do, the fact that she was happy and doing something with her mind instead of breaking her body down like Joel was every damn day of his life was the proudest he’d ever been of anything.

Could he really risk his relationship with her for you? Yes, you made him happy. So fucking happy. You were the first thing in years that he felt like he really, truly wanted. And it had hit him hard, so fucking hard. It was like he’d saved up all his longing just for you, like it had been waiting for something powerful enough to show up and unleash it all and it had knocked him off his damn feet.

But you were Sarah’s best friend.

“So one thing that’s seriously lacking in the Pacific Northwest is good TexMex,” Sarah said, lounging on a pool float, her face tilted toward the sun, eyes closed. “Think we can go out for dinner tonight? I need enchiladas and tamales and I need them sooner rather than later.”

“Only if you don’t get mad that I ask for the real spicy salsa,” Joel said.

“How did I end up so cursed that my two favorite people love to melt their tongues off as a hobby?” Sarah sighed. “But fine, order the miserable stuff. I’ll just get the regular salsa like a normal person.”

Joel scoffed.

“The normal ship has sailed with you, Baby Girl. Me and Tommy around you so much? Never stood a chance.”

Just an hour later, he and Sarah were headed into her favorite Austin restaurant. Joel added it to his mental list of places to take you. It was Sarah’s favorite for a reason, after all.

“Table for two,” Joel held up two fingers to the hostess but Sarah cut him off.

“It’s three, actually,” she smiled, not looking at him.

“Three?” He frowned. She ignored him and just held up three fingers to the hostess. It took him until they were at the table to really put it together. “Sarah…”

“I’m here to see you but I really want to see her, too,” she said as she slid into the booth. “And I do think you guys will really get along if you actually give it a shot. Please, Dad? Give her a chance?”

A chance wasn’t the only thing he’d given you.

“Baby Girl, I’m sure she’d rather do something besides…”

“Besides what?” Your voice appeared over his shoulder, Joel turning toward the sound so fast it made his head spin. You smiled a little sheepishly.

“Hi.”

***

Well Joel clearly hadn’t been expecting you.

That boded just so well.

“Hey Bestie!” Sarah squealed and got out of the booth to throw her arms around your neck. You laughed and hugged her back. “Ugh, I miss you! The office sucks without you there. So does the rest of Seattle, honestly.”

You laughed.

“I miss you too,” you gave her a squeeze before the two of you separated. “I keep trying to convince the VP at this branch that I absolutely unequivocally need a junior copywriter on my team. He hasn’t bought it yet but I think if I just keep asking him I’ll wear him down and he’ll cave to my annoying tendencies and just give me whatever I want.”

“Oh so you’re playing hardball,” Sarah teased as she got back in the booth and you slid in beside her.

“Clearly yes,” you nodded sagely. “I read ‘The Art of War’ and just bothering people until they give up is the best battle tactic in the world…”

You turned to look at Joel who was watching you intently.

You hadn’t expected Joel to show up tonight anymore than he’d expected you. Sarah was playing you both like a goddamn fiddle. You’d worn a strappy, silky slip dress with a denim jacket over it thinking you were going out with your best friend, not going to be stuck trying to keep from staring at your who-the-fuck-knows-what sitting across from you.

Who also happened to be your best friend’s dad.

You tried not to think about that part.

“Figured I’d force you two to get to know each other better over margaritas,” Sarah said brightly. “I can’t let you both just sit and stare at a wall all by yourselves until I can move back to town…”

“I don’t stare at walls!” You protested. Sarah ignored you.

“So you can at least keep each other company,” she finished.

“Good to see you again, Joel,” you said, trying as hard as you could to not picture him naked across the table.

Which was really fucking hard.

His dark button down was rolled up to his elbows and fit his damn broad shoulders so perfectly all you could think about was the way he looked as he fucked into you, the way his muscles rippled through his chest and you had to fight to not bite down on them. His hair was tamed without being sculpted or overly styled and you wanted to run your fingers through it and sink your grip into his scalp as he ate you.

“You too,” he said.

You’d never had this visceral of a reaction to a man you’d fucked before, never, not even when you were a stupid teenager. Of course, you’d never tried to hide your relationship before, either.

But you had the feeling that wouldn’t matter with Joel. You’d feel this intensity toward him whether Sarah was beside you or not, whether you could be open about your affection for him or not.

And now you were going to have to sit across from him when he looked that damn good all through dinner.

The second the server came to the table you ordered a margarita. You had a feeling you were going to need the tequila.

It took conscious effort to pay attention to what Sarah was saying as she tried to bring up things she thought you and Joel had in common. Almost like she was trying to launch an ad campaign for each of you.

It felt like forever but you were sure you’d only been seated a few minutes when you gave up on not touching Joel. You carefully slid your foot out of your pump and started sliding it up his inner leg, starting near his ankle. Joel jumped a little in his chair at the contact, his eyes darting to you. You just raised your eyebrows at him as you took a drink from your margarita and slid your foot up his leg to his knee. He shifted in his seat, his eyes steadily on Sarah but you could tell he had to focus on her now, actively work to give her attention. You smirked a bit at that.

You kept the pattern up as the three of you waited for your food, Joel’s eyes always going a little wide when your toes made it to his inner thigh.

“Ugh, I’m starving,” Sarah groaned as a tray of sizzling fajitas passed your table. “Here, scootch out, I’m going to the bathroom. That’ll make the food come.”

“It always does,” you agreed, quickly shoving your foot back into your shoe and getting out of the booth.

You both watched as Sarah made her way across the restaurant, turning to Joel the second you knew she was out of earshot.

“Did you say anything?” You were whispering anyway.

“No,” he replied. “We hadn’t talked about it, didn’t seem like the time… Did you say somethin’?”

“Not a word,” you said.

“I really need you to cool it over there, Beautiful,” Joel said. Any other time, you’d think he was teasing you but his eyes looked open and earnest now. “We can’t just go into a bathroom right now and it’s already a fucking miracle I haven’t tried to rip that goddamn dress off you, Jesus Christ, you can’t just show up places lookin’ that damn good…” “You’re one to talk!” You replied, incredulous, as you looked down at his exposed, tan, muscled forearms and back up at his face. “Fucking hell, Joel!”

He smirked a little.

“That’s all it takes with you, huh?” He teased, leaning across the table toward you. “Just a little bit of skin and you’re outta control?”

“Oh fuck off,” you rolled your eyes but grinned a little all the same. “I know you know what the rolled up sleeves thing does to women.”

“I promise I do not,” he said, watching over your shoulder now. “But you’ll have to enlighten me later…”

Sarah came back to the table and her face fell.

“Shit, that usually works,” she sighed. “Alright, scoot in, we can just trade spots.”

You obeyed and slid over, purposely leaning over the table as you did, giving Joel full view of your bra below your dress as you did. He was all but glaring at you as you sat back in the booth.

Consciously, you knew you shouldn’t be pushing him like this. For starters, this was not how you wanted Sarah to find out. Assuming she was ever going to find out.

But you shouldn’t be trying to frustrate Joel. Not like this, not so early on in your… whatever the fuck this was.

You had a tendency to do this, to bend things until they broke the second something was looking like it could get serious, the second that it looked like it’d be worth the time and the effort. You were starting to think it was something your subconscious did on purpose. If you sabotaged the relationship early, there wasn’t the same kind of risk. Push the guy too far and he’d break things off with you and you could return to the relative emotional safety of dating apps and bars. Only ever go out with someone for a few weeks and it wouldn’t hurt that bad if they left.

And they would leave. They always left. You might be worth the time for a bit but you weren’t worth the trouble for anything real, that much had been made clear to you in the years you’d spent dating around. It had gotten you hurt when you were young and stupid, back when you were Sarah’s age. Now, you fucking knew better.

You knew better than to get anywhere close to what you were starting to feel with Joel.

And here you were, doing it anyway, with your best friend’s dad.

So of course your first reaction was to push him. Push, push, push. It’s what you did.

You stirred your melting margarita.

You’d never been more relieved to have food brought to your table.

“Thanks so much for coming out tonight!” Sarah hugged you goodbye in the parking lot, the awkward, hesitant conversation at the table through dinner still tense over you.

“It was so great to see you!” You hugged her back and kissed her cheek. “Seriously, I’m wearing the bosses down, start packing now because I miss you too much.”

She laughed.

“I’ll be on the first plane out once I get a job offer,” she said. “Either way, I’ll be back for the holidays, we have to hang out then. Just us girls at least once, promise.”

You smiled a little, hoping Sarah would still want to talk to you at the holidays.

“Sounds perfect.”

Joel gave you a tight smile and a nod.

“Talk to you soon?” He said, his voice too open and honest to fit the shared awkwardness of your position feet apart in the parking lot.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Text me?”

“Sure,” he smiled back.

You poured yourself a glass of wine the second you were in the door, only pausing to take your shoes off as you made your way to the kitchen. You settled in on the couch without bothering to change, carrying the bottle of wine with you, and you put on some shitty Netflix reality show you could zone out and barely pay attention to.

You were four episodes deep when your phone lit up.

“Fuck that was hard,” Joel texted.

You smiled a little.

“Was that hard or were you hard?” You texted back.

“Both,” he replied almost immediately. Your smile grew and you downed the last of the wine.

You hadn’t had enough to drink to be drunk but you’d had enough that it made you feel… bold. Like you wanted to try something new.

You took off your jacket and slid the straps of your dress down so your cleavage was spilling over the top of it, your breasts barely contained by it. You took a selfie, a needy look on your face, and sent him the picture.

“Need help with that?” You asked.

“Jesus Christ,” he texted back almost immediately. “Good thing Sarah just went to call some boy she started seeing back in Washington, can’t just send a guy shit like that and expect him to sit still.”

You bit your lip for a second, getting an idea. You headed for your room and shimmied out of the dress before you put on the sexiest bra you owned and switched to the matching panties. You posed in the full length mirror in the corner of your room, one leg out, a hand on your hip.

“What about shit like this?” You asked as you sent the picture along.

“Really fucking mean for you to send that when you know I can’t come take it off you,” he texted back.

You flopped down on your stomach on your bed, reminded of how you felt texting guys when you were younger and you had to make sure you didn’t go over your texting limit for the month.

“You can always fight back you know,” you said. “I can’t come rip your clothes off either.”

“You trying to get me to sext with you?” He asked.

“Maybe.”

It took a few minutes before he sent you a picture. He was in his room, stripped down to his boxer briefs. He fisted his cock through the fabric of them, the veins on his hand prominent.

“Something like this?” He asked.

You groaned, your hand sliding to your clit before you even thought about it. You rolled onto your back and took a picture of your hand slipping into your panties before sending it on.

“Just like that,” you replied.

“Fuck.”

The one word was all he sent for a minute before he followed it up with a picture of his cock in his hand. You moaned at the sight of him, a pearl of pre-come leaking from his swollen head. You wanted to swallow it up, lick up and down his thick shaft, take all of him in your mouth until you were choking on him and he spilled down your throat.

“Tried to make this last but you’re too fucking much for me,” he texted. “Couldn’t wait.”

You took off your bra and tossed it to the floor before taking a handful of your breast in your hand, holding the phone high over your head, high enough that it could capture your needy expression and the way you were touching yourself.

“Neither could I.”

Usually, when you fucked yourself, you used toys. You had a few that you’d become partial to over the years of cycling through men and relationships, the fake dicks in your life lasting a whole hell of a lot longer than the real ones.

Tonight, you didn’t need one. Didn’t think you could pull yourself away from touching your own body long enough to pull one out, not with Joel’s face and body and cock on the brain. You slid your hand down your chest, your stomach, back to your pussy. You rubbed your clit in little circles with your index finger as you stretched your middle finger down, down, down toward your dripping hole.

When his next message came through, you dropped your phone in your rush to open it and you scrambled to pick it up with one hand, your other one too occupied to want to do anything else.

This time, it was a video. His large hand was working his thick length, his cock still looking big even in his grasp that dwarfed your own. He worked his cock slowly, his thumb sweeping over the head and collecting the pre-come before he slid it firmly down with quiet moan.

“Fuck, I need you,” his voice was soft, a whisper. “Need to feel that perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

You were about to rewatch the video, your mouth watering, when he texted again.

“Can I call you?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you just called him, putting the phone to speaker and setting it on your chest between your breasts.

He answered on the first ring.

“Hey beautiful,” he said, voice low and dark and needy. “Fuck, I gotta be quiet…”

“I know,” you said, whispering back even though you didn’t have a reason to. “Don’t care, as long as I can hear you.”

“Tell me what you’re doin’ to yourself,” he was almost panting. “What you’re thinkin’ about…”

“I’m rubbing my clit,” you moaned. “Got one finger inside of myself, thinking about you eating me out last night…”

“Fuck you tasted so good,” his voice became a little more strained. “Wanna taste you right now.”

You moaned and fucked yourself a little harder, a little faster, your eyes closed in pleasure.

“Add another finger,” he said. “Want you to work up to this cock, want you thinking about me deep in you when you come.”

“Fuck Joel,” you were panting now, too, as you added another finger.

“Tell me what you’re thinking now,” he whispered.

“You pushing into me,” you groaned it. “Opening me up for you…”

“Fuck, Beautiful, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You heard the pace of his hand increase on the other end of the phone and you worked your pussy a little harder and faster, too, whimpering as you did.

“Can you fit a third finger?” He panted.

“Yes,” you managed, getting desperate, your body starting to feel tight, all the heat of you drawing deep into yourself.

“Add it,” he groaned. “Fuck yourself deep, hard. Fuck yourself like I fucked you last night, how I’d fuck you right now if I were there.”

You obeyed, thrusting your fingers in as deep as you could reach, whimpering at the stretch that you knew had nothing on his thick cock.

“You were so fucking deep,” your legs were restless, the tightness extending so far down that you knew your orgasm was going to make your whole body quake. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn big, Joel…”

“And you take me so fucking well,” he panted. “Take me like you were made to take this cock, fuck!”

“I was made to take you,” you whimpered, desperate and aching. “Made to make you come, need you to fucking come, please Joel, please come for me…”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!” It was a choking, strangled whisper and you heard him muffle his moaning in a pillow, the sound of his pleasure sending you over the edge.

It was the hardest you’d ever come from your own hand, harder than you’d ever come with a vibrator, almost as hard as you came with Joel deep inside you the night before. Your body throbbed with it, so much that it felt like your fingers might break as they stuffed your overwrought pussy full. You all but sobbed as you kept working your clit, even as it was too much, fucking yourself through your own orgasm the way you knew Joel would if he were buried inside you instead of in his own fist. Once it was over, you slowly, gently, pulled your hand away from your dripping slit.

“Fucking hell, Beautiful,” he said after a minute, still trying to catch his breath. You smiled and laughed a little. “Christ, I hope Sarah didn’t hear that.”

“You stayed a lot quieter than me,” you were whispering again. It was fun to whisper into the phone with him, like you were going behind your parents’ backs with it.

“Still,” he said before he sighed. “I gotta go clean up, you made me make a hell of a mess.”

“You’re one to talk,” you smirked a little, looking at the slick gathered on your fingers.

“Can I text you tomorrow while you’re at work?” He asked quietly. “Something tells me I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“Course,” you smiled, settling down into your mattress. “Text me whenever you want, I always want to hear from you.”

Maybe it was the post-orgasm haze but you didn’t care that it sounded desperate.

“Good,” he said. “Because hearin’ from you always makes my damn day.”

You smiled at that.

“Miss you, Beautiful.”

You smiled bigger.

“Miss you, too.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Awww doubt is creeping in and they're still fucking each other's brains out from afar.

We love to see it!

Thank you so much for following along with this story! These two are so fun to write and I hope you're enjoying their journey. Love you all!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut

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stevesworld96 · 1 year

Text

look at me now (part one)

--- steve harrington x fem!reader

childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.

a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve.

tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, typical king steve meanness, yes there is an allusion to steve being icarus, kissing, fighting and making up, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, reader has an aunt, mentions of death and injuries, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon

please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)

part two!!!

word count: 14878

You knew Steve Harrington better than you knew anybody. At least, you liked to think so.

You were five when you moved to Hawkins into the house right next door to Steve’s, and as things go when you’re a kid, that automatically made you best friends. At that age you didn’t have to try to be friends with somebody - as long as they lived nearby and had a bike, that sealed the deal.

He was only knee high to his mother, hiding behind her legs when she brought him over to introduce themselves. “We’re the Harrington's,” she said, then with a tight laugh, “minus one - my husband. This is our son. Steve - say hi, Stevie.”

He didn’t. Your mothers started a polite conversation and your eyes darted between the tall woman and her son. She was dressed like she had somewhere important to be, with red lipstick painted on her lips and pearls hung around her neck. She was pretty.

Her son didn’t stand with the same pride she had - he was peeking at you, tugging the hem of his mother’s dress and looking down at his feet. You could hardly get a good look at him, and he didn’t even wave back at you. His haircut was prim and proper; the button up shirt he wore was swallowing him.

They came inside for lemonade, and you led Steve into your living room, and by the end of the hour you had instantly become friends, bonding over your toy car collection that Steve loved.

You were kids - of course things were so easy.

To see him, all you had to do was walk over to his front door and knock, and you could spend as much time together as you wanted. Or just wait until his parents needed a babysitter - after they learned how much you and Steve loved spending time together, they started to drop him off at your house and you’d have sleepovers for days.

It was when Mr. Harrington had gotten a big promotion that they’d leave Steve with your family nearly once a week.

“I’m sorry, Stevie, I know me and Dad haven’t been home much lately. But next month isn’t as busy for us,” his mom would tell him.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he’d reply. “Don’t worry, I like staying here, so I’m alright.”

At your age you didn’t see the irony in a seven year old telling his mother that things were okay - shouldn’t it be the other way around? - but those apologies from his mother wouldn’t last very long. And the promises she always made were never kept. Soon enough, she stopped making them altogether.

Sometimes he’d just show up at your door, and your parents didn’t have to ask questions because they already knew more than you did, and you didn’t understand that he was more comfortable in your bedroom than in his own.

The routine of your friendship felt like the foundation of your life. Everything you did was with Steve by your side, like you were tied together with an invisible string that couldn’t be broken. Snacks after school were a must; movie nights every other weekend were your safe haven. The last day of school every year you camped out in his backyard under the stars and then woke up early for a big breakfast and a day spent at the arcade. Even as you got older, those things stayed the same.

You had busier schedules to work around in high school but you still made it work. After-school lunch turned into midnight snacks, and you moved from the arcade to the lake, but you were still intertwined with child-like joy and ease.

Steve’s other friends were another story. Tommy H was a thorn in your side that you couldn’t pick out, but Steve didn’t get why you hated him so much. At first, you didn’t get it either - you just did.

Until one day early in your junior year, Tommy H gave you a good enough reason for your disposition.

Like always, Steve was waiting for you outside of your last class of the day, and you were just about to turn the corner when you heard Tommy’s loud, boisterous, annoying voice.

“Steve, my boy, what’cha standing around here for?”

Steve laughed, even though Tommy had said nothing funny.

“Waiting on your favorite girl so I can get outta here - what’s up, dude?”

“Come on,” Tommy said, dragging the words out. “We got shit to do, ditch her and let’s get a roll on, if you catch my drift.”

You could see his stupid face in your head as he spoke - you just wanted him to go away so you could leave. But you’d wait there forever if it meant you didn’t have to have a conversation with him.

You were hardly paying any mind to their words.

“Can’t, dude, I’m her ride home. Tomorrow though, for sure.”

“She’s holding you back, man.”

But that caught your attention. They were both laughing even though, again, no one had said anything funny.

“Y’think so?”

“She even put out?”

Your eyes rolled so far back to your head they could’ve gotten stuck.

“It’s not like that with her.”

“Oh, that’s not what Kimmy thinks.”

“What? What do you mean - did she say something?”

You knew Kimmy to be the new flavor of the week, Steve’s new eye candy. It’d be someone new in a matter of days - and this was one brand new trait of his you were struggling to overlook.

“Just saying, most of the chicks think you’re taken by Miss Bitch -”

You call Tommy H a dickhead to his face one time and he gives you a nickname that sticks for three years.

“- and that’s why you’re not getting any action, dude. Gotta shake off the fleas, man.”

And then Steve laughed. Loud.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. You hoped he would defend you even a little bit, but he didn’t. He just laughed, and said, “I’ll think about it, man,” as if he was in on this joke, and then Tommy left.

And you didn’t know how you felt.

It’s not like Steve said it. But he had no problem listening to Tommy H talk about you that way. He thought it was funny.

Or, he was just saving face - did that make a difference?

You knew Tommy’s words were complete bullshit, and you didn’t care about him enough to let it affect you. Maybe Steve felt the same - maybe he just went along with it because it was easier.

You hoped so, because that’s what you chose to do. You brushed it off and walked out of the room and acted as if nothing happened.

“Hey - about time.”

You didn’t reply; he continued talking as you walked together.

“You hungry?”

“Thought you were coming over,” you said. “Told you I wanted to build a blanket fort. Remember?”

He huffed out a scoff, “A blanket fort? Are you six?” The glare you gave him made him reel his judgment back in. “Fine. Let’s go.”

…

As soon as basketball season was over and you had your weekends back to yourself, you were ready to get through your watch list of movies as quickly as possible. You’d never tell Steve that cheering for him at his games was your least favorite part of your friendship with him - you would always keep that selfishness to yourself.

And if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own mind, lost in planning your movie night, you may have been able to see your next conversation with Steve coming.

“There she is, been lookin’ all over for you.”

A heavy arm slung around your shoulders as you walked down the school hall. You didn’t have to question who it was.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“Just want to see my best friend in the whole world, is there something wrong with that?”

You rolled your eyes. Obviously he’s up to something.

“I’m going to choose to ignore you,” you said, shaking off his arm and stopping at your locker. His back fell into the metal next to you.

“What’s up?” he asked, and he was trying too hard to be inconspicuous, but you ignored it.

“Nothing. Oh, I think I finally have a cookie recipe we’ll like. Mrs. Jenkins gave it to me but she made me swear I wouldn’t share her secrets. Gonna pick up the stuff after school - have you picked your movie yet?”

Then his eyes widened, a bit too much to look genuine. “Oh, shit, is that tonight?”

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“I completely forgot about that, shit. I made other plans without thinking.”

“Well, cancel them,” you said with a straight face.

“Well… what if you join in on my plans instead?”

You closed your locker and didn’t even consider entertaining Steve’s idea. “My mom’s already planning to make dinner for you. Are you ready to face her wrath?”

“Well - no,” he said. “It’s just - y’know, I was supposed to see Nancy tonight, and…”

“Oh, I get it, you wanna cancel so you can get laid. Is that it?”

“No, Christ - I’ll be there, alright? But next time, I’m getting my way.”

You laughed at him, and the bell rang and ended your conversation.

You didn’t think the night would go any differently than your normal hangouts. Maybe if you were expecting it, the disappointment wouldn’t have stung so bad.

He called you early.

“Hello?”

“Hey -”

“Hey, have you picked up the movies yet? I forgot to get popcorn, so…”

“No, I haven’t. Listen, um…” There was static on the line for a moment before he continued. “Sorry, but - can we - are you sure we can’t reschedule? Like, tomorrow night?”

You groaned, you were annoyed. But even when he argued with you, Steve never ditched your valued traditions - he may act bothered sometimes, but he would always come around. Even if he did gripe about it being childish the entire time.

That’s what you thought this would be.

“No, Steve, I have book club and tutoring and dinner with my aunt tomorrow. You know this.”

“Right. I guess I forgot about that. Okay, well…”

“...Well?”

Once again, he was quiet, and you weren’t sure if he was hesitating because he didn’t know what to say, or because he was nervous.

“Well - I think it’d be really fun if we hung out at my place tonight!”

“I guess I can bring all the ingredients for the cookies over. You do have a nicer oven…” you said.

“No, like, you can come over with everyone else I invited and we could -”

“I thought you canceled that?”

“I was going to, but… Tommy wouldn’t take no for an answer! And we already got the booze, and Nance finally said yes and - and I’d be really happy if you were here too!”

“...Okay.”

“Okay…?”

You thought for a moment, then decided to ask him the question you were asking yourself.

“Would you be happy if I was there, or would you be happy if I’m not mad at you for canceling?”

“Uh - either one.”

“Right.”

That answer was good enough for you, even though it wasn’t the one you wanted. You weren’t getting anything you wanted that night, and you weren’t going to fight for it with someone who already had their mind made up.

“Then have fun,” you said.

“Really? We can cancel?”

The excitement in his voice caused an angry laugh. “Yeah. Bye.” And you hung up.

And you made your cookies, and you watched the movies you already had on tape, and you didn’t miss the popcorn but you wished you had Steve’s lap to put your feet on - and it was fine.

You were sure he was having fun. And maybe he didn’t care at all about your canceled plans - because he was too busy with people who didn’t like you, doing something more exciting than what the two of you did as kids.

It was selfish to be angry. Maybe it was wrong. But you let it boil over anyway.

…

You didn’t talk to him for a week after that. Because you didn’t want to, and you wanted to teach him a lesson, and you hoped it would make him sorry.

Maybe you were being immature, but at this point, you were committed.

You were afraid that you were setting the wrong example - that, maybe, he thought you were angry about him making his own plans, when the problem was how he’d canceled yours so last minute. Or perhaps it was both. But now you had dragged it out too long and you were stuck giving Steve the cold shoulder until he finally caved in and apologized.

That’s all you wanted, really: an apology. And a bribe or two, just to get the most out of this argument. That’s how things usually went: you give him the silent treatment and he shows up at your door with your favorite snacks and a new book, and things would go back to normal.

But not this time.

You’d managed to bike to school without being caught by Steve all week, but you’d underestimated him waiting for you at the bike racks at the end of the day on Thursday.

He stood with his arms crossed and his brows drawn together. The moment you saw him you stopped in your tracks, like if you stayed still he wouldn’t see you, but his gaze was locked on. It didn’t look kind.

So you prepared yourself for this fight.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but his tone said something different - it said, I’m sick of your shit.

“What are you doing?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Just wondering how long you’re going to keep dragging this out.”

You kept darting around his words and moved to get your bike as if he’d let you leave so easily. “I’m not dragging anything out. Don’t know what you mean.”

His arms flung out to his sides as his voice raised, “You’re acting like a fucking kid!”

And your volume matched his, “You hurt my feelings!”

“Well - grow up!”

The short silence that followed felt heavy, but he didn’t let it sit for long.

“I mean - come on - I ditch you one time and all of a sudden we’re not friends anymore? Really?”

“A sorry would be nice, Steve.”

“I’ve said sorry.” Both of you knew that he hadn’t, but it didn’t matter now. “But sorry isn’t enough, is it? You’re just mad that I have new friends. Because I don’t want to just - sit around and fucking - watch movies in your living room like we’re kids -”

“Like we’re kids,” you said, laughing. “Yeah - right, because that’s really what this is about, isn’t it, Steve?”

He looked confused, and you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Because I’m holding you back. Right? Tommy H said it so it must be true. I’m a bitch and I’m keeping you down and you need to shake me off if you ever want to get any action - that’s what it is. Just say it, Steve.”

“Where is this coming from?” He ran a hand through his hair and his voice sounded desperate, but you weren’t sure what for. Maybe to salvage the remnants of a wounded friendship, to turn this conversation around. But your anger wouldn’t let him.

“You know where it’s coming from. I heard it, Steve, and you - you agreed with him! I’m your best friend but you can’t even defend me to your shitty fucking friends - so just say it! You’re the one who doesn’t want me around -”

“That’s not what happened -”

You were so angry, and he was lying, and Steve never lied to you, and he’d filled you with so much venom that you couldn’t help spitting it out as you stepped closer to him. “It is. And you’re turning it on me when you’re the shitty friend. Stop lying to me and just say it.”

“Yeah, maybe that is what it is - and I was just too fucking stupid to see it before now. That you’re so fucking clingy I can’t even have one night with a girl without you getting jealous. He was right. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah, it was,” and you pulled your bike free and your foot hit the kickstand so hard that it hurt, and you told yourself the pain was the reason tears were flooding your eyes.

“Maybe I’m better off without you - have you ever thought about that? Is that your fucking problem?”

“Whatever! I don’t care anymore! You never have to watch another fucking movie with me again, alright? We won’t go to the arcade or build stupid fucking blanket forts or any of the other childish shit you hate so much!”

“Good - fucking - good!”

“And I hope you have fun playing King, and I hope when all your friends turn on you and Nancy dumps your ass - because you’re an asshole - that I’m the last person you run to for help, and I hope your dad is real fucking proud of you, because you’re turning out to be just fucking like him.”

It all fell out like you were pushing rocks off of a cliff - fast and angry and hard. You knew what those words would do to him. You knew you were hurting his feelings more than he had ever hurt yours - that you were putting the knife in too deep to pull out. You knew and you said it anyway, because you were mad and he was being a dick and lashing out felt good. Especially when you could hop on your bike and ride away from him, fast enough to avoid watching the blood pooling at his feet.

The worst part is that you were being honest.

Steve stood there alone and didn’t even turn to watch you ride away. He felt like hitting something, or screaming until his lungs were empty and tired.

And he didn’t even have time for any of this. He was finally making decisions for himself, for once, and who were you to get mad at him for that? He was popular, he had a girlfriend who was actually into him, his parents had finally gotten off his back. Things were going fantastic for him and he wasn’t going to let you mess it up because you were… jealous, or selfish, or whatever it was - Steve didn’t care.

He wasn’t going to lose sleep over you refusing to grow up and give him space. He was on top of the world, and you were trying to tear him down.

He didn’t need you, anyway.

…

Months passed.

And, like you had put a hex on him, all of your words came true - and then some. It didn’t take very long for things to crumble around him, and Steve almost thought it was funny how quickly his wings had melted to send him hurling into the ground.

No matter how hard he tried patching the holes, everyone knows you can’t fly with wings made of wax.

The fall hurt. But it was what came after that brought the real pain - a stinging, striking ache that was impossible to ignore. It felt like he was the last person on earth and he deserved it; like he shouldn’t be allowed to be around other people because he was no good.

And every time he tried putting the pieces back together, things only got more broken - all starting at Jonathan Byers’ front door.

What could get worse than fighting a monster from an alternate dimension?

Or fucking things up with your girlfriend beyond repair?

Or fighting those monsters again?

He learned quickly to stop asking stupid questions like those.

And he learned that he couldn’t just close his eyes and wish it away. He couldn’t run when things got scary; he couldn’t lash out when someone was honest with him; he couldn’t sneak out of his window and into yours when the yelling got too loud. He was forced to face everything he ever hid from, cursed to have regrets and keep them.

At least he wasn’t completely alone - the company of nerdy kid genius Dustin Henderson brought most of these lessons on. And in a normal situation Steve wouldn’t recommend learning anything from a kid in junior high, but he was living anything but a normal life. He’d take friends wherever he could get them, especially during senior year.

Maybe he wanted to set a good example for the kids that suddenly came into his life. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t his father - that he could do good things without getting something out of it. Or maybe, most likely, he just did it.

He wanted to feel like a superhero, wanted to look in the mirror and feel proud of what stared back at him. But he didn’t, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t brave or heroic or gallant - he was no Clark Kent. And everything he did was because he had to. Because who else would?

Sometimes he felt like only someone as careless as him would fight a man-eating creature with nothing but a baseball bat - because out of everyone he knew, he had the least to lose. Why bother making safe decisions when most days he didn’t even want to get out of bed? What was he risking when he’d already bet it all and lost?

And who would be proud of that?

But there were moments, in the time between the fall and the fight, that he could almost see it. Like a flicker of light passing by he’d see Max smiling at him, hear Dustin’s excited laughter, feel a heavy high five from Lucas and he’d think - oh. Right there, standing in front of him, were the people he had to lose. The ones he was trying to win for.

And then he’d lay in bed at night and get stuck in another sleepless round of self loathing; hatred fueled by every cruel word he’d spit and all the selfish acts he’d taken, and fuck, he was spinning and suffocating and screaming, and maybe he deserved this.

It didn’t matter that he knew how to swing a fucking bat good enough to win more time for the ones he loved, because he wouldn’t love them right, anyway. And he’d turned the best person he’d ever known into nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper on his floor - something to be tossed aside and forgotten. And even if he tried smoothing it out, those creases would always be there.

Sometimes he stared out his window and watched yours. Waited for your light to turn off so he could look away and stop wondering what you were doing and how your life was without him in it.

All he wanted was to see you again. He’d beg for that movie night he ditched on junior year. He wanted to grab you by your shoulders and show you that he’s better now, he’s changed, those last words you told him weren’t applicable anymore and everything can just go back to how it was.

But nothing was ever that easy, was it?

He was glad when graduation finally came around, until he was forced into a sailor’s uniform with an ice cream scoop on his belt like a gun in a holster.

It was one way to spend the summer. It got him out of the house he hated staying in, and put a little money in his pocket, so slinging ice cream at Scoop’s Ahoy was good enough for him.

It distracted him from the vague nightmares he kept having and the fact that he got into a total of zero universities, and the free ice cream counted as dinner on his bad days. And he was fine with his obnoxious co-worker and annoying customers.

He was just fine.

But it was Hawkins. Nothing could stay fine there - not after a little girl with super powers opened a portal to an alternate fucking dimension and turned the town into a magnet for every fucked up thing imaginable.

Steve thought it was over, and then Dustin had him and Robin translating the Russian words he heard over his radio, and they were all pulled back in.

He wasn’t expecting to fall into the Russian lair under Starcourt Mall, to trauma bond with Robin - of all people - or to get any closer to dying than he already had, but he stopped betting on his expectations a long time ago.

By the time he saw the night sky again, he couldn’t remember how many punches he’d been thrown.

His head throbbed to the beat of his heart. It felt like if he tapped his temple, his eye would pop right out. His work uniform was ruined, stained with blood and spit, but the smoke billowing from Starcourt ensured that he wouldn't be needing it anymore.

The events of the night felt like they were years away. All he remembered was running, screaming, crying; he remembered the fist coming toward his face but not the impact. He woke up to pain, and then it was gone - more running and bleeding and fighting and then, it was over.

Robin sat next to him, shivering, on the back of an ambulance. The lights from the siren were blinding, the noise around him was punching his ear drums.

“Are we alive?” Robin asked. Her voice was totally shot.

“Think so.”

“I want to lay down so bad.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Do you have someone to call?”

She sighed deep. “Not really.” She let it be quiet for only a second, then said, “I don’t really want to go home. To be honest.”

“You wanna spend the night here?”

“If I don’t have to be alone, then, yeah.”

He sighed, too, then patted her knee.

He said, “I’ll call someone, alright?” and she nodded.

The payphone was a bit of a walk, and he had to wait behind two people in line, but it was enough time for him to muster up the courage to make the call. Even still, when he had the phone in his hand, all he could do was stare at it.

He was trying to remember the exact words you said to him the last time he spoke to you. Something like, “I hope I’m the last one you call,” he was sure. It was hard to remember your phrasing now, but the memory still stung all the same.

And he knows it’s not fair to call you, but he was going to anyway. Because in all honesty, you were the only option he had.

Any other time, he’d rely on Hopper for a ride. But Hopper wasn’t around anymore.

So he dialed your number and prayed you hadn’t changed it from the one he knew by heart.

Your hand darted out of your blanket to reach your bedside telephone. The ringing killed your half asleep ears, and you hardly knew what you were doing when you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello?”

You could barely get the word out; your voice was thick with sleep that was slowly creeping over you.

“Hey. It’s Steve.”

With your heavy eyes shut, sleep was pulling you back in. Your whole body jumped a little bit when you attempted to stay awake.

“Steve?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you up, but -”

You didn’t know what was going on, and then you heard sirens on the phone. A jolt of anxiety seared through you at the sound. That’s what got you to wake up - then you realized who you were talking to.

“Steve?”

“...Yeah.”

“What - what’s wrong?”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you sat up in bed, holding yourself up with one shaky arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you held your breath until he answered your question. “There was an, uh - accident at Starcourt, and - I don’t know who else to call. I’m sorry, I can’t drive right now and I don’t have anybody else.”

“Are you okay?”

“Barely.”

You didn’t give your answer a second thought. “I’ll be there in, like, five minutes, okay?”

You could hear his breath of relief over the phone. “Okay. Thank you.”

After stealing your mother’s car keys, you stuffed your bare feet into combat boots and ran to the car. Even though you still only had your learners permit, you absolutely floored it to the mall without a single thought in your mind. It was like you were on autopilot, simply doing what you were supposed to, because you were scared.

You saw plumes of smoke before Starcourt ever came into view, and you swallowed through your dry throat because you knew something bad happened.

You had to fight through crowds and cops before you were allowed to pass under the police tape to search for Steve, which wasn’t easy. Every face you saw wasn’t his and each second that passed dug a deeper pit in your stomach.

The second-to-last ambulance in the lineup is where you found him, sitting next to a girl whose head was on his shoulder.

And when you saw him… it wasn’t him. Your eyes glazed over him because he was hardly recognizable.

You’d seen him beat up before. He’s had his fair share of fights at school; you wiped blood off his face and helped him nurse black eyes. But it was never like this.

His left eye was swollen shut. Crimson stained from his eyebrow to his jawline. His skin was aggravated red, his clothes were blood rusted, his knuckles were ripped open.

And still, somehow, his hair looked perfectly done. That sight alone made you want to laugh and cry at the same time, because of course he managed to keep its style untouched. It was so Steve.

You ran to him; your legs carried you there on their own, shoelaces smacking against wet pavement. You weren’t thinking when you called out his name or when you flung your arms around his neck. You hugged him like it would heal him, like the scent of your perfume could cover the smoke he smelled of.

It’d been almost a year since you’d talked to him, and the jagged edges of your ended friendship still cut deep, but you didn’t care. Not when he looked the way he did; not when he was hugging you so tight; not when your tears were dripping onto his skin.

You pulled back and looked at him, and his wounds didn’t look any better up close.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I’m alright,” he said. He wouldn’t look at you, or couldn’t bring himself to. “I’m just glad you came. I’m sorry -”

“Don’t,” you said, and then you looked around at the scene. “Have the paramedics even seen you? Why are you just sitting here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I - I’m fine. They said I’m fine. They’re all busy with others but - I’m fine, don’t worry.”

That’s when you noticed the girl next to him, who was looking at you like you were crazy, and you realized what you were potentially barging in on.

They sat close - too close to be friendly. They were basically cuddling when you first saw them. It was obvious what they were, so of course she was looking at you that way.

You didn’t mean to make her jealous, but a part of you didn’t care.

“Are both of you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, answering for the two of them. The girl nodded. “This is Robin, by the way.”

You introduced yourself to her, trying to be cordial even though you were meeting in the worst of situations.

“You two can stay at my place tonight, if you want to,” you told them. Steve asked Robin if she was okay with that, and she said yes, and so you led them to your car.

You weren’t sure why you made the offer to Steve - you wanted him with you, sure. After seeing the condition he was in, you wouldn’t sleep unless you knew you were keeping him safe and sound in your own bedroom.

Old habits die hard.

But, all things considered, you should have just taken him to his own home, where he could be with Robin in peace. Without cut ties lingering in the air like flies.

You drove him home anyway.

Nobody spoke until you got to your bedroom.

“Do you need a shower?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. Robin nodded.

“Okay. Robin, you can take my bathroom. Steve can shower downstairs.”

You dug through bottom drawers to find clothes for each of them - you still had the ones Steve kept stored there, as embarrassing as it was, so it wasn’t a difficult task. And you’d let Robin choose from your pajama drawer.

And then you got back into bed, because you didn’t know what else to do for them.

Robin stood in the doorway of your bathroom, just staring into the room. When Steve opened your bedroom door, she snapped her head back to him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She glanced over at you. You wanted to hide from the tension in the room.

“I - I don’t know how to use this faucet.”

He showed her how, and then made for the exit, but she called for him again.

“I was just thinking - you know - if we both shower at the same time, won’t the water pressure be super low? And what if the hot water runs out before I’m done, and -”

“I’ll be quick, Robs,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve took one step into the hallway before stopping. The darkness looked like it went on forever. He didn’t remember your house being so unlit, or having so many hiding places, and suddenly his legs were shaky.

“...You’re probably right, though. I’ll just wait out here until you’re done.”

“Yeah. And I’ll keep the door cracked open, for… all the steam.”

“That’s a good idea.”

And he sat on the floor right outside of the bathroom door. When Robin was finished, they swapped places. As if they couldn’t be apart for longer than twenty minutes.

You didn’t ask them any questions.

…

The two of them slept on a pallet of old blankets on your bedroom floor. Robin made Steve sleep closest to the door. He tried not to be upset about it.

And he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but it seemed to swallow him. He didn’t dream, or toss and turn, but he woke up unrested.

Everything still hurt just as bad as it did the night before. And Robin’s snoring was making his headache worse.

You were no longer in bed, so he decided to get up and find you.

He wasn’t sure what kind of interaction he’d be walking into when he found you in the kitchen, but he tried to keep his head high.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hey.” You had a mug in your hand. “Your eye looks better.”

“It doesn’t feel any better,” he said, and he wanted to make a joke that it actually looks worse - because when he closes his right eye, everything’s blurry - but he held that one in. He wasn’t ready for a comedic coping mechanism quite yet.

You put Tylenol on the island that separated the two of you. “Take them. I don’t know if it’ll help much, but it can’t hurt.”

The bottle said to take two, so he took three. And then the awkward quiet started washing in.

Until, “I saw what happened on the news,” and Steve almost coughed up the water he was chugging.

“What are they saying?” he asked, because he didn’t know what story he was supposed to be playing along with.

“Just talking about the fire,” you said. Your voice sounded so dim, and Steve hated it. “It’s… crazy. Hopper… he…” You couldn’t say the word.

“I know,” Steve said.

“And thirty others.”

His throat felt dry. “Thirty?”

Truly, he didn’t know that many people hadn’t survived. And now, it all felt real. Really real.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m just glad - you were lucky to get out, Steve.”

You had no clue how lucky he’d really been. And hopefully you would never have to know.

“I know.”

You sat your mug down, brushed your hands on your chest like you were trying to wipe off everything you knew of the accident, then blew out a loud breath.

“Let’s just think about something else.”

Almost at the same time as you, he spoke. “Thank you.”

“...What for?”

“For coming to my rescue,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I know that I… didn’t really deserve it.”

“Don’t thank me, Steve.”

“Seriously. You could’ve just told me to walk home, but you didn’t.”

“I’m just being a good friend,” you said, then shrugged. “I hope you would do it for me.”

“In a heartbeat.”

He wondered if this was his chance to say sorry.

Or if there was even a point in it.

He was afraid you’d do no more than laugh in his face, and even if he deserved it he didn’t want to succumb to it.

But he had to. Because he almost died last night. And he could be fighting those monsters again, any day now. Was he going to lose this chance? Or is he going to die without saying another word to you?

He stared down at his ripped knuckles. The wounds still looked fresh. They stung just from touching the open air.

He stared, and stared, and stared, and - he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t face it.

Your footsteps toward him made him jump back.

You were holding a box of band-aids.

You held out your hand, asking for his without words, and he offered both of them to you. First his right, then his left, were covered in pink, green, and yellow band-aids by you.

It was gentle and kind, the way you went about it. Like you would hurt him even more if you weren’t careful.

He still had dried blood under his nails and splinters in his palms. He watched your clean hands holding his beaten up ones and he felt bad, because your skin was too soft to bother with the cuts and calluses on his.

But you held them anyway.

He put his fingers through yours and you didn’t stop him. He wanted to cry.

“I’m just glad you're alright.”

He didn’t know what to say - there wasn’t anything to say, he guessed. Nothing to make it better or change anything.

All he could do was squeeze your hand and watch you wipe tears off your cheeks.

Until he noticed a cut on the back of your hand. He pulled it closer so he could get a better look.

“What happened?”

“I dropped a knife while I was cooking last night. It’s fine.”

It looked fine, but Steve wanted to repay your favor, so he pulled a band-aid from the near empty box and put it on your wound.

“We match,” he said.

You laughed. “We’re even now.”

He felt overwhelmed with melancholy. He needed to rest, he wanted to close his eyes and not open them for weeks.

“I should go check on Robin,” he said as he walked backwards toward the stairs. He kept his eyes to the ground, away from the look on your face. “She’ll flip if she wakes up and she’s alone.”

You said nothing.

…

The following days and weeks were a lot of checking on Robin, and Robin checking on him. Too much waking up in the middle of the night and keeping his eyes glued to his bedroom door just in case. Only feeling safe enough if he had a baseball bat hugged to his chest and Robin snoring next to him.

So - he wasn’t doing well, but it was fine. He tried not to complain about it. Robin was the only person he let himself be half honest with - but he kept the truth to himself, because she’d get anxious if he said what he really felt.

Steve was scared. And he didn’t want anyone else to know it, because all of the others acted as if their lives were perfectly back to normal. They were doing well. So he had to be doing well, too. For their sake.

Weeks after that awful night at the mall, he and Robin conned their way into getting jobs at Family Video. He was grateful, because god, he was too codependent on her.

It was a random night at his place when Robin brought you up out of nowhere.

“I just realized, I never thanked your neighbor for saving us that night.”

“You don’t need to. I’m sure she knows you’re thankful.”

“Yeah, but, I feel like I should pay her back.”

Steve shrugged at her words. He didn’t want to think about you more than he had to - it hurt just a little bit too much.

“Should I give her a gift?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She likes cookies. Get her cookies.”

And Steve didn’t know it, but the next day, Robin rang your doorbell with a plastic box of cookies in her hands. You opened the door and she started rambling from the get.

“Hey - Steve said you like cookies, so, I decided I’d bring you some to thank you. For showing up at Starcourt in the middle of the night and practically saving our lives. And for letting us sleep on your floor. That was really nice of you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Robin seemed weird. You just went along with it.

“Oh - thanks. That’s cool. Thanks.”

She shoved them toward you, and you took them.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked.

Instead of answering, she just stepped through the door. You brought her to the kitchen.

“I hope they’re good. I just got them at the corner store. But all cookies are the same, right?”

“Well - no, but, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Oh.”

The gifted cookies didn’t look much better than the worst recipes you’d made, but you opened the crude packaging and gave them a chance.

They were fine. Maybe a little worse than fine. You gave Robin one, anyway.

“They’re good!” she said, with a mouth full.

“They are,” you lied. “They’re not homemade, but they’ll do. Thanks, Robin.”

You ate half of your cookie. Robin finished hers. It was quiet.

You figured you might as well try to get to know this girl a bit better. At least be polite and make small talk, just to be nice.

So you asked an easy question. “How long have you and Steve been together?”

But it wasn’t as simple as you thought, because she started coughing up the cookie. “What do you mean?”

“...What?”

“We’re not together,” she said with a heavy dose of sass. “God, I’ll never get over people asking me that. I am not dating Steve Harrington. Gross.”

“Oh - sorry, I just thought -”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Everyone always asks. I guess a guy and a girl can’t be friends without everyone making assumptions.”

You laughed. “Yeah. People used to do the same thing to us. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask a weird question.”

“It’s alright. Actually, I’m supposed to be at his place in, like - well, ten minutes ago. You should come over if you're free.”

“Uh - I don’t know, me and Steve - we don’t really hang out anymore.”

You aren’t sure why you didn’t just make up an excuse. Something about Robin made you feel okay about being honest.

“It’s cool. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. It’s kind of been just us since what happened with - the fire. The fire that happened. So - you know. It’d be nice to have someone else around. If you want.”

You were curious how this would turn out. So, “sure. I’ll come.”

“Great. You should bring a cookie for Steve.”

You brought the whole box, and decided you would accidentally forget them at his place so they wouldn’t go to waste.

Steve’s front door was yanked open from the inside before Robin could let herself in, and his wide eyes became a little less wide when he saw her.

“Where the fuck were you - you were supposed to be here half an hour ago, I thought you got fucking eaten or something.”

“Relax. I was just making a cookie delivery next door. Chill.”

Robin threw her thumb over her shoulder. You poked your head out from behind her and gave Steve a weak wave.

“Oh.”

“What exactly would she get eaten by?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. You noticed he was gripping his car keys in a tight, scarred fist.

“Monsters,” Robin joked. Steve didn’t laugh. You did a little bit. “I invited her over. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

You stuck to Robin all the way to his living room, because that was easier than making yourself comfortable. You hadn’t been in this house in ages, and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

“Where’s my crossword?”

“I finished it.”

“Asshole. You know I hate that. Just get your own.”

“Whatever, you suck at them, anyway.”

Robin, unlike you, had no reservations in the Harrington house. She kicked her feet up and started channel surfing as soon as she sat on the couch.

“Have a cookie,” Robin said to Steve. You reached the box out to him; he sat down next to you to take one, taking up the spot between you and Robin.

It was weird being so close to him again. His knee was touching yours, and it made your skin feel too hot. Still, you didn’t move away.

“These are shit,” he said with a full mouth.

“Hey!”

You laughed loud, because you completely agreed.

“No, seriously, these are awful.”

“I spent five dollars on those!”

You gasped. “Five? Robin.”

“You should have just given her the money instead. Or thrown it in the trash.” Steve dropped his half eaten cookie back in the box. You put the plastic lid back on and sat it on the coffee table.

“I thought they were good. You’re being so rude right now. They were a gift.”

Steve looked at you. “You didn’t tell her how bad they are?”

“I didn’t - I don’t think they’re that bad.”

“You’re lying,” Steve laughed, then he turned to Robin. “She’s lying.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I know you, and I know you’re lying.”

“It’s fine, guys, you don’t have to spare my feelings or anything.”

You sighed, defeated. “...They are pretty terrible.”

Robin scoffed loud and obnoxious.

“Whatever. I’ll enjoy them.”

…

As it turns out, Robin acted like glue between you and Steve. Neither of you would have ever made an effort to see each other again, out of embarrassment or guilt or both, but Robin didn’t have to unpack any of that baggage. She didn’t even know it existed.

Instead, she immediately saw you as a friend. And she brought you in like she had known you forever.

But Robin and Steve were a package deal. So, if you were a friend to her, you had to be a friend to him, too.

And the two of them were weird. Most of the time, they left you feeling like a third wheel on their friendship.

They could be mean to each other. Rough. They acted the exact way you knew siblings do, but that was only surface level. There was something deeper - more than anything a brother and sister had, because it wasn’t the blood in their veins that connected them. It was the roots they chose to grow into each other that kept them together.

Robin spent the night with Steve more often than she didn’t. And she bullied him for his bad cooking, and he told her when an outfit was ugly, and they stood next to each other like two puzzle pieces that didn’t match but fit together with a hard press.

Sometimes you sat on the sidelines and ached, mourning a friendship that had been buried some odd years ago. It was well beyond rotten - something decayed and unrecognizable now. Even if you dug it up, it couldn’t be the same as it was.

But you wished.

And as you sat and listened to Robin chastise Steve for saying something dumb - watched as he meddled her hair into a purposeful mess, you could only laugh and sink into yourself. You were happy and sad; you cherished your time together and dreaded it, all at the same time.

Above it all, Steve was different. Distant in the way he would never meet your eyes, or laugh too loud at your jokes, or sit too close for too long.

It all felt fleeting. Like that week you spent angry at him - stuck in a weird limbo, between friends and strangers, a frustrating purgatory. Some kind of Schrodinger’s Cat of a friendship - alive and dead at the same time.

You would have just said something, if it felt like you could. But if Steve minded, he didn’t show it. If he missed how things were, he didn’t act like it. And, as you knew him, if he wanted to he would.

And it wasn’t totally bad. It was just new. You’d get used to it with a spoonful of sugar and a hard swallow.

On a random day, you had mentioned off-hand that you had been meaning to visit your aunt’s apartment to drop off and pick up a few things. Steve offered to take you, and you agreed, and the next day, you made good on your plans.

The two of you didn’t hang out without Robin very often. Since early August, the number was hardly a handful. But with the radio turned on, it wasn’t too awkward.

Steve had visited your aunt with you several times growing up. He went to her house-warming party when she moved into her apartment. You were thirteen, and you made a game of pressing every button in the elevator before getting off it. Now, every time you’re there, you think about how you used to chase him down the halls.

Her place was the nicest there was in Hawkins, in the tallest residential building in town. Parking was a nightmare, but Steve kept his complaints under his breath, and he even carried your bag for you.

The elevator was the only thing in the apartment’s lobby. As you pressed the button, Steve spoke up.

“You wanna take the stairs instead?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. You laughed.

“You want to climb eight flights of stairs? No thanks.”

“I’m an athlete,” he mumbled under his breath, sheepish. “This thing is taking forever, anyways.”

It dinged as it finally started moving down toward the bottom floor.

“It’s on its way.”

He stepped back, looked around, and he must have spotted the stairwell. “I’ll race you,” and then he took off.

The elevator door opened as the stairway’s door closed, and you rode to the top floor alone.

He didn’t win the race - far from it, and you laughed as he tried to hide his struggling breathing.

“Been waiting for you all day, athlete. Thought you’d take ‘til Christmas.”

“Psh. Whatever. I’ll win on the way down.”

The elevator creaked and hummed as it started moving down, and Steve glared at it.

You laughed, “You’re weird,” and you left him behind to walk down the hall.

He worked fast to catch up, and called out, “The loser pays for dinner!”

“You know I’d never pass up that bet.”

Your aunt wasn’t home - she rarely was. But a key was under the mat, and as you walked inside her tuxedo cat, Webster, greeted you at the door.

“Hey, dude,” Steve said, kneeling down to pet him.

An old cardboard box sat on the dining table nearby, “Glassware” written on the side in crude permanent marker. It’s what you had been instructed to pick up and take back home - you weren’t sure what was inside.

You sat down and opened it and pulled out the first thing you saw: a white paper bag, one you knew printed photos came in.

“This what you came for?”

Steve stood next to you. He had Webster in his arms, who was purring loud and melting into his hand.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Family stuff, I’m guessing.” You pulled out a fat stack of pictures and the one on top made you bark a laugh. “Oh my god.”

You and Steve, seven years old, wearing matching cowboy costumes for Halloween - you with a white cowboy hat, him with a black one. You stood with a jack-o-lantern between you. You had your hands on your hips and a frown on your face; Steve had his chin pushed out in a wicked scowl.

You turned it to him, and he laughed just as loud as you. “Look at those two mean mugs!”

“Do you remember this?”

He sat in the chair next to you, continuing to look at the photo over your shoulder. Webster made himself comfortable in his lap.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “We fought all night because you stole my -”

“Oh my god.”

“You stole my full size Snickers.”

“I did not!”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

The way he looked at you told you this was still a sore subject.

“You went ahead of me to the Smith’s place while I was trying to tie my shoe and you took her last bar. That’s what happened!”

“That’s not stealing!”

“It is!”

“I didn’t mean to leave you behind! It’s not my fault you didn’t know how to tie your shoes!”

“You didn’t, either. And, I learned before you.”

You puffed a sigh and flipped the photo to the back of the stack. “Why are you still fighting over this? We shared all the candy, anyway.”

“It’s the principle. Theft is a crime, and you never apologized.”

You only laughed. No way were you giving him that apology now.

When you pulled the photos out of the box, you didn’t intend on looking through them all, but your curiosity kept you flicking through them. Most were of random family members or photos of the beach, but pictures of you and Steve were littered throughout the stack. There wasn’t a single photo of you that didn’t have him in it, too.

There were from some first days of school, birthday parties, sleepovers. They were sorted somewhat chronologically - looking through them was pure nostalgia, memories hitting you at every angle as you watched yourself grow up.

The next one to catch your eye was from a middle school dance. Neither of you wanted to attend, but your mother insisted. Your one condition was that you could wear whatever you wanted.

So you and Steve had swapped styles. You wore his way oversized Atlanta Flames jersey, a baseball cap, and sneakers that didn’t fit; he had on your purple sweater, a big pearl necklace, and white jeans.

It was cute, and it was goofy, and you wished you could jump into the picture and relive it.

At that age, the only thing you knew was that you and Steve would live forever, together. Now that you know what you know, your heart ached for the little girl in these pictures. What would she think about the space between you two now?

There were pictures from summer camp, swimming pools, and your first day of high school.

Webster meowed. Steve meowed back at him.

As you got to the bottom of the stack, pictures of the two of you were less and less. The last one - the one you didn’t know would be your last picture with him - was of you, him, and a few of your extended family members. A day spent at the lake that Steve really didn’t want to go to, for some reason only an angsty teenage boy could understand, that you dragged him to. It was the summer before your junior year.

In the photo, his arm was draped completely over your shoulder. You remembered him leaning all of his weight on you - to the point that you fell out of your seat after the picture was taken by your aunt.

And you had fun, like you always did. Steve became a member of your family out of happenstance. It was just because he was always around, really. They all saw him as much as they saw you.

You put that photo to the back of the stack and kept carding through them. You didn’t find any more pictures of you and Steve.

The rest were all more recent. Steve stopped you on one that was of you alone - sat at a dinner table, wearing a cable knit sweater.

“That’s a good one,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s from Christmas. Senior year, maybe.”

You acted like you weren’t sure, but you knew exactly when that photo was taken. You just didn’t want him to know how sad you were in it.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” and you laughed, “this was not a fun party.” He didn’t reply, and so you kept talking, sparing him a shy glance. “Everyone kept asking where you were.”

The silence was heavier this time.

“Oh,” he said, trying to bury it. “Yeah.” An awkward chuckle. “I bet that was annoying.”

You laughed and tried to make it sound real - tried to seem like you didn’t care. “Yeah, well, you know how my family always liked you better.”

He shrugged, looking like he was going to make a joke, but he didn’t. His eyes were distant as they moved down to his lap.

You shoved the picture to the back with the rest.

The one behind it was just as lonely.

Still, Steve perked up at it. “Is that from graduation?”

You wore a cap and gown, you held a bouquet of flowers, and you stood all alone.

“Yeah.”

Steve’s hand wrapped around yours holding the picture, and he tilted it toward him so he could get a better look.

“My aunt kept trying to get me to find you for a picture,” you laughed.

“You should’ve.” He smiled something big and real, and you realized with a rush that this is the closest you’d been to him in a while. If you kept looking, you could count the freckles on his cheek. His thumb pressed into the back of your hand. “I remember seeing you. You looked real cute.”

You ignored his compliment to say something snide. “I ignored you so hard.”

Another laugh, “Really?”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah. That’s fair - I would’ve, too.”

You tried not to think about how badly you wished he was standing next to you in the picture.

Steve spoke up, “I -” but you cut him off by accident.

“It’s fine.”

You didn’t mean it. He could tell.

“...Is it?”

It was honest when you replied, “I don’t know.”

He was still holding your hand.

“I never told you I’m sorry.”

“I guess I just figured you were.”

You dropped the pictures on the table, dropping his hand with them.

“Is that good enough?” It was an honest question.

“I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

And your answer was genuine, because you didn’t know. Steve had come back into your life just as easily as he left it - on a whim, without any warning. You didn’t put any roadblocks in his way.

But you stared at the photos spread out in front of you. At the story they told of your friendship that would always be unfinished.

You had to teach yourself how to do life without him. All of those lessons seemed useless, now, because here he was. And you didn’t even know if he ever missed you.

You pulled away from him, a move that was far more snappy than you meant. You did it like he’d reached out and burned you. It had Webster jumping down to the floor.

“It’s fine,” you repeated.

“I think you’re lying just to make me feel better.”

“I don’t know why I’m lying.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he mumbled, and you stood up. The chair scraped the floor in a way that grated your ears. You turned your back to him.

“I thought I knew you.” Your eyes welled up, your nose started to run. You balled your hands up like you were on defense. “I thought you would say sorry, and make everything go back to normal like you always did. But you didn’t. I thought you would miss me, at least, but - but you didn’t.”

“You think I didn’t miss you?”

The shake in his voice had your fist dropping to hit your thighs, defeated.

“I miss you more than anything. I’m sorry - I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, or because I have to, I - I don’t even deserve to be saying it.” He paused, and you could imagine the way he was running his hands through his hair and pacing around with nerves. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend. For not treating you like you deserved - I hate myself for it. You were the best thing in my life, and I know that now. I was just too scared to come crawling back to you because I wasn’t worth your time.”

You breathed in deep, exhaled hard, and it felt like the first breath you had taken in two years. It was that feeling when you’ve forgotten your keys but find the door unlocked - the relief of being let in despite a mistake, it rushed through you, and it had you turning to look at him. You found him standing and staring at you, through you, with glassy eyes you would always know.

“I just miss you, Steve.”

Three steps and then he was around you. And you were safer than a child hiding under their blanket from whatever lurked in their closet - monsters weren’t real if his arms were around you. That had always, always been true.

Webster rubbed up against your leg, then Steve’s. The hug shook with both of your laughter, and he held you tighter.

…

Things didn’t go back to how they used to be after that, but it was close enough. And you were trying to settle into the differences that kept knocking you off your feet.

It started with late night phone calls.

Before, you never talked on the phone. Why would you when his house was a stone throw away? If you wanted to talk, you’d invite yourself to his place.

But the two of you were still dancing on the ripped edges of that two year old fight. Wounds were still healing - almost there, but not quite. So it was easier to take it slow, to treat this time as something brand new.

And it was brand new.

You had caught yourself grinning ear to ear over stories he’d tell you, and you had to force the smile off your face. Like you shouldn’t be acting that way over your friend - you quickly realized you just couldn’t help it.

He’d keep you up too late and tease you for it the next day. And you weren’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of you, but that’s how you felt. He acted so smug after seeing your cheeks swell in embarrassment.

So it wasn’t going back to how it was before. In fact, it was going down an entirely different road - one that wasn’t even on the map.

You weren’t complaining, because you felt things you hadn't felt before around him. He made you feel warm, and you were addicted to it. You were addicted to him, and you had blind hope that the feeling was mutual.

He’d spend his entire lunch break visiting you, even if your breaks didn’t line up. He’d follow you around the apparel section at Roses and you’d have all your attention on him, just the way he liked it. He made sure to see you every day.

You never thought he’d make you feel so shy, but it was an emotion you couldn’t get enough of. You hardly realized what you were spiraling into until you’d catch him looking at you with a blush on his cheeks, or until you had to stop yourself from thinking about him every night before bed.

But there was something glaring, something major, something you couldn’t look at directly until it came up in conversation with Robin.

Robin and Steve always had Sundays off, so the day was designated to be stolen by their other friends - who were all in junior high.

When you asked why they were friends with junior high kids, Steve called himself their babysitter. Robin said she was their good influence. You avoided asking follow up questions.

It was a lazy autumn day, one where the warmth of fallen leaves reflected in the air - something rare for early November.

The youngest of the kids, Erica, loved putting on a nice outfit and going for a walk. Today it was yellow Chucks, a red silk and pleated maxi skirt, and a long sleeve button up with a rainbow of vertical stripes. (It would have been a tie dyed short sleeve, if Steve hadn’t told her it was too chilly for it.) She had stuck gems beside her eyes, the kind that come in the plastic packets and don’t stay on for long, and Robin packed yellow eyeshadow on her eyelids.

She was downright cute, but if you told the eleven year old that she’d aim her sass at you and shoot to kill. She much preferred receiving a refined compliment, because, “I hear that all the time.”

Today, you told her you loved the way she paired so many colors together. She grinned something beautiful and kicked her foot up behind her and agreed with you.

Steve had once described her as a menace - you didn’t understand why.

You walked with Robin a few feet behind Erica, Dustin, and Steve. Dustin had not stopped talking the whole time, except when Erica butted in. Steve had stolen the younger boy’s thinking cap hat and was wearing it backwards.

“The last time I wore this coat, I found two phone numbers in the pocket.” Robin held up two fingers and gestured to the Letterman jacket she wore. It was Steve’s. “Can you believe that? I mean, what a douche. I wouldn’t even wear this if it wasn’t so warm.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I believe it, actually. They were probably from some cheerleaders or something.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t get any numbers these days. He’s cursed to be forever lame as punishment for the jerk he was in high school.” Robin was smirking wicked and wide, like it was satisfying for her.

“He’s lost all his charm?”

“All of it. I mean, one hundred percent. I used to keep count of how many times he fell on his face in front of girls. It’s magnificent, truly.” Then, quieter, “He’ll get it back, though. One day.”

“He used to have no trouble at all.” The conversation had the gears in your head turning; it had you speaking without thinking. “I don’t know. He’s really different now.”

Robin laughed, like you were joking. “Yeah, he learned manners, for one.”

“It’s not that.” You were thinking out loud. “He’s nicer, yeah, but… it’s almost like he’s not even the same person. I’m not sure what happened.”

The Steve you knew was boisterous. He was unapologetic. He was stupidly confident, the life of the party, and he wasn’t afraid of anything. A wouldn’t take no for an answer, go with the flow, drop of the hat kind of person.

You were lucky to know him when that’s all he was. Before the halls of Hawkins High swallowed him and spit out someone ornery who cared too much but not at all.

You thought it was just Tommy and Carol’s influence. Now that he wasn’t their friend anymore, you thought he’d become who he used to be.

“He told me how close you two were before,” Robin said. She was tugging on a strand of hair that was stuck in her lip gloss. “I guess I never knew him like you did.”

“He’s so quiet now. He used to be so loud.” You meant it more than literally - you hoped Robin would understand. “I don’t know. So much changed and it’s only been a couple years.”

It seemed like she was struggling to reply, because it took her more than a few seconds to get her words out.

“I guess - I mean - I think you’ve probably changed a lot, too. Two years is a long time, right?”

Robin knew. No one could tell, but she knew.

Maybe the differences that you had described of Steve were really there. She wasn’t able to see them the way you could, but she didn’t care. It was selfish to admit that she would never change a thing about him - but one.

He was waiting.

Everyone was, she thinks.

Waiting for another fight.

It wasn’t easy to go back to normal after trudging through hell. It was like coming out the other side of trench warfare unharmed - you didn’t. When a gun fires, its bullets hit. If a bomb is dropped it doesn’t miss a fucking thing, and Starcourt Mall was goddamn ground zero.

And Robin wasn’t there for the disappearance of Will Byers. The death of Barbra Holland. The Upside Down. The Demogorgon. The Demodogs, and the lab, and the girl with psychic powers. She wasn’t there, but Steve was.

Her head hurt just thinking of the stories he’s told her. And she knew his did, too, more often than he’d admit to her.

And she felt bad when her sleeping patterns went back to normal but his didn’t. When she got used to being on edge all the time, Steve still jumped at any noise. His phone would ring and she would watch him prepare himself to answer it - to hear Dustin’s voice on the line telling him that it’s back.

So when you said that Steve’s changed, Robin didn’t know what to tell you. You were right, and she knew that, but she couldn’t tell you why. You knew everything about him besides, well - everything.

Robin wished she didn’t have to know, either. She wanted to tell you that you should be grateful you couldn’t see the shackles on his ankles. You got to know him before - and Robin would give anything for that.

But she couldn’t change a thing.

Instead, all she could do was wait.

And lie.

And pretend.

“He’s still loud,” she said, uncomfortable as all get out.

As if he heard her words, Steve busted out in a stomach hurting kind of laughter at one of Dustin’s stories.

“See what I mean?”

Your destination was in sight now. Steve turned around - letting Dustin steal his hat back - walking backwards, and reached a hand out to you.

“You coming?”

Your pace turned into a skipping sort of jog to catch up with him. When you were close enough he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go. He’d been doing that often.

The kids and Robin broke away, heading for the tiny park that was up on your right. To your left, Steve tugged you to a tiny convenience store.

“Place your orders!” he called.

Dustin and Erica shouted at the same time. Steve mumbled something about not being able to understand them, so you relayed their messages.

“You’re getting two things! No more than that!” he shouted back. “Robin?”

“7-Up.”

“What else?”

“Surprise me!”

You hung onto his arm as you walked into the store, and you weren’t even sure why. He never pulled away when you got that close, so you kept going back.

You went for the drink coolers first. He reached for the apple juice.

“She likes orange juice the best, now,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“You better be right - if she’s mad at me over this, I’ll be mad at you.”

You rounded up all the snacks everyone wanted, following Steve’s only two items rule. You laughed when he chose plain potato chips as Robin’s surprise - the blandest possible choice. And while he checked out at the counter, you wandered off into the aisles.

He acted like he didn’t want you to go, pulling you back and asking a quiet, “where’re you going?”

“To look around.”

It was straight to the candy aisle for a Blow Pop for Erica, Pop Rocks for Dustin, and sour gummy worms to share. You liked spoiling them - it helped to get on their good side.

You made a stop at the candy bars to grab a Snickers bar before going back to the counter, and Steve immediately shook his head when he saw you.

“What are you doing? What’s all that?”

“It’s all for me.” You dropped it all for the clerk to scan.

“All of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though you said you didn’t want anything?”

“I changed my mind!”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, and you watched his hand move to his back pocket.

“Don’t you dare.”

His wallet was half way out of his pocket as he laughed. “What?”

“You’re not paying. Stop.” You tried to sound mad, and felt you were doing a good job, but he kept giggling at you.

“Oh, are you my boss now?”

“Yes, Steve,” and you bumped into him, trying to push him away. “Don’t make me say your full name.”

“Just let me -”

“Take their things to them! Go!”

You were shocked when he listened, but he only made it as far as the door. He stood against the glass with his arms crossed, staring at you until you finally followed him.

“What are you looking at?”

He pushed his back into the door to open it. “Trying to figure it out.” He reached for your hand, and you swatted it away, only for him to catch you, anyway. And you let him hold your hand, all the way across the street to the park.

Your friends sat at a picnic table waiting patiently. It was actually two tables pushed together, doubling the normal length; Erica and Dustin sat opposite each other on one end, and Robin sat in the middle, crisscrossed on top of the table.

Steve divvied snacks to grabby hands, and you snuck their surprise treats in to the sound of thank yous.

You took your seat on the other end of the table across from Steve. When you sat down, he put a bottle of Coke between you.

“Are you going to share?” you asked.

“Only if you’ve got something to give me in return.”

The Snickers bar made a thud on the wooden table. Steve hummed. “I guess that’s good enough.”

You were almost happy with the trade until you realized, “No bottle opener?”

His eyes doubled their size. “Shit.” Then, he grabbed the bottle. “No, it's a twist off.” The noise he made as he tried taking off the cap was something like a squeak, and everyone at the table laughed.

“Just walk back to the store!”

“Dustin - Dustin! Do you -”

The boy slid a large key ring down the table. It was a wad of keys, keychains, and gadgets.

“It’s on there somewhere.”

There was a mini flashlight, a laser pointer, a plastic Q*bert charm, a pocket knife, keys and keys and keys, a kubaton, and, “Yes!” a bottle opener.

“This is why I keep you around, Henderson.”

“I’m the one keeping you guys around, first of all.”

You grabbed the Coke and guzzled a couple drinks worth in one go, and when you put it back down, Steve had already eaten half the candy bar in one bite.

“Steve!”

His mouth was full when he said, “What?”

“Why can’t you share? Why didn’t anyone ever teach you about sharing?” His laugh was sweeter than the chocolate he was shoving into your face. “Stop, I don’t wanna eat after you.”

“We’ve got the same germs,” he said, and he was feeding you the Snickers before you could make another argument.

The snacks were all gone much quicker than it took to walk and get them, because none of you would ever learn to savor the destination. Regardless, next Sunday, you’d all be sitting in the same spot - give or take a few others, creating a good day for yourselves.

And, if you were lucky, Steve would be holding your hand the whole time.

...

It didn’t matter who you were cheering for on the court, you hated high school basketball games.

Going to Lucas’s game brought back far too many memories than you’d care to recollect. But even though you hated it, you were still filled with pride watching the boy play the game so well.

And Steve hadn’t shut up about it all night. He spoke about Lucas shooting the buzzer beating winning basket like he was recounting a grand story - something from a movie or a comic book. Like you weren’t sitting beside him the entire time.

You stood with him in his kitchen, and the excitement had finally started to settle. You and Steve had spent far too long talking about how weird it was to be back in the high school gym, and both of you agreed that you didn’t miss it at all.

“Is Robin excited for spring break?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She said she’s spending the entire week here so she can be as lazy as she wants, so - I guess she is.”

You threw a weak fist into his shoulder and he caught it. “What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s gonna steal all my time!” His grin was contagious as he slotted his fingers into yours. “And that means I can’t steal all of yours.”

“Does that mean I’m finally getting a break from you?” You laughed, but he didn’t.

It was weird, the way his entire demeanor changed in a snap. Before you could even take back the joke you made he was shifting his eyes and dropping his grin.

He had always worn his heart on his sleeve, even if he tried hiding it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” It was a hand through his hair that said the opposite, but you’d never call out his tells. “I just - that reminded me there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” He dropped your hand to cross his arms, and it had you feeling nervous.

“What about? …Did I do something wrong?”

“No, honey.” You weren’t sure when that nickname came around, or when it started to stick, but it had a fairy fluttering its wings in your chest. He started to reach for you again, you could see it, but he stopped himself. “You could never do anything wrong.”

You laughed quiet. “Neither could you.”

You moved to stand next to him, mirroring the way his back leaned against the counter. Your arm pressed to his. He was looking at the floor; you were looking at him.

“Are you sure?” It started as a whisper but jumped into a shake, a crack in his voice that said more than he wanted to. And he looked at you, to see if you caught it, and you swore his eyes were shining. He didn’t show them to you for longer than a moment.

“Steve?”

“I just - I don’t want to fuck this up again.”

“How would that even happen?”

He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. “I don’t know.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow, again and again, until his crossed arms dropped. Your pointer finger snaked around his, and the touch brought enough bravery out of him to link his fingers with yours.

“What do you know?”

He scoffed into a smile, one big enough to reach his eyes, and it brought him out of his funk. “I don’t know,” he said, moving closer to you as he made the joke.

“That’s what I thought,” you replied. “Not a thought going on in your head.”

Making him laugh was the key to his heart - you knew that, and it worked this time as well as it always had.

He had his head turned, cheek to shoulder, staring down at you; you were so close, you could watch his eyes move across your face and know where he was looking. They wandered, but when his gaze lingered on your lips - you noticed.

“I know one thing for sure,” he said.

When you took a loud breath, you’re sure he heard. He gave you eye contact again, and maybe you were seeing things, but you swore you saw question marks swimming in the green.

He didn’t breathe. You didn’t blink. You moved forward just a hair, and he looked back down, so you pressed on. You wanted to be closer, as close as you could get - it was curiosity or desperation, you didn’t know.

When he tilted his chin toward you, it was hardly noticeable. But you saw it, and it was enough. Your nose was just about to touch his - you watched his eyes close, right before yours did. There was nothing to do but move closer, closer, closer.

And then, when you felt just the softest graze of his skin on yours -

BAM! BAM! BAM!

You jumped back from each other like same-side magnets, gasping and jumping at the sound of loud knocks on the front door.

He moved fast, like he was looking for a way out, leaving you alone in the kitchen. “Shit.”

Steve had a good idea of who he’d see when he opened the door. The knob was jingling when he unlocked it, then pulled it open.

Sure enough, Robin. Wearing a flannel that was his, with wild bedhead that he couldn’t help laughing at.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Let me in.”

It was written all over her face why she was there, and Steve felt bad.

Even though she asked to come in, she didn’t move. Her features were all scrunched up, her shoulders were hunched into her crossed arms.

“Robin -”

“I fucking hate this.” Loud, echoing into the night and through his door. “I hate it, Steve, and I swear - I swear it’s not over.” Her eyes wet her cheeks; she looked at him through tears. “It’s going to happen again. I can feel it. And I’m scared.”

He had to pull her inside, because he knew she’d stand in the same spot all night if he didn’t. She pushed into him, shoving her face into his shoulder, wiping her tears on his shirt.

“You just need to rest,” he told her.

She spoke something pitiful, not caring that her words were muffled. “The gate’s really closed, right? For sure?”

“It’s over, Robin, it was just a nightmare - you just need some good sleep, alright?”

She nodded, wiped her runny nose into her sleeve, and tried pulling her tears back in.

“I wish I could sleep anywhere else.”

“I know.” It wasn’t any sort of jab - it was just the truth. The only time she was truly afraid was when she slept alone.

She hit a fist into his chest, something playful that made things feel a little more okay, and then took herself to the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a minute to stand guard,” he joked. She barely laughed but it was enough, and he watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

And he hoped you hadn’t heard anything, because he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions you had. When he found you in the kitchen you looked nothing but concerned.

“Is she okay?”

All you knew was that she had nightmares about the mall fire. It was a realistic excuse, in comparison to the unbelievable truth.

“Yeah. You know how she is.”

You nodded. Steve wasn’t sure how to go back to the talk you were having before, so he avoided it.

You spoke first. “I hope she’s alright.”

“I should probably go be with her,” he said.

You were perfectly okay with it, understanding as always. “Yeah. She needs you.”

He walked you to the door, and it was too brief for his taste. But when you were there, he spoke up.

“I’m sorry. Can we finish this tomorrow, maybe? I promise - I… I really did want to talk.”

“Of course,” you said, and it was shy. “Don’t be sorry, Steve, she’s more important right now. We can talk any time.”

His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a crushing hug. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? Before work. We can make plans then.”

And that was it - he watched you make your walk home until you walked into your front door, and that was it.

The moment was ruined, and he might not be able to make it happen again.

…

Steve didn’t call you the next morning.

part two!!!!

#my writing #perhaps the only steve fic i will ever write #if there are typos in this i. lmao i will rage #this took forever this is so fucking long if no one reads it i dont blame truly #anyway #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #fluff #angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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whxre-bxby · 1 year

Note

Im just saying a hate fucking fic where Lyle is jealous that Quaritch is always giving the reader all the attention when he is supposed to be his right hand man wouldn’t be terrible 😏

Wouldn't be terrible at all ( I had to write this, thank you!)

Hate-Fucking with Lyle Wainfleet

Recom Lyle x Recom f. Y/N

Masterlist

Summary: (can be seen in the ask)

WARNINGS: SMUT / NSFW, fighting, swearing, degrading, violence, force, hurt/comfort, spanking, penetration, man-handling

Word Count: 6480

Quaritch stood next to the helicopter with a tablet in his hand. He was flicking through it and then pulled out a paper from his pocket.

All the recom’s including me were geared up and waiting for orders.

“Y/N.” Quaritch said and my gaze shot up. “Put these coordinates in.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod, walking over to him and standing next to the Colonel who hands me the tablet. I start clicking from tab to tab and he holds out the paper with all the information. Once I finish I hand it back to him and he gives me a firm yet appreciative nod. I move to the side again, stilling my movements and holding my weapon.

What I don’t notice is the pair of eyes burning into my skin. They belong to Lyle and he’s seething with jealousy. He was a Corporal and had recently been promoted to Lieutenant for his loyalty to the RDA. Meaning, he was the next highest rank after the Colonel. Which also meant he was meant to be Quaritch’s number two or his so-called right-hand man.

But for whatever reason, the Colonel seemed to take a liking in you and it annoyed Lyle. A hatred for you was building up in him, even though you hadn’t ever done anything directly to harm him. He knew he was in the wrong for this because you were a nice person but he couldn’t even bring himself to say that about you.

This wasn’t the first time you had been asked to do something he should have.

Another time when we were out on a mission, Quaritch needed to send the helicopter our location and additional files of data we collected. Once again, the technology seemed to overwhelm him. He also happened to be tired after the long day in the forest, so without hesitation, he called you to him.

Quaritch knew he could rely on you and he had great trust in you.

While you helped him out on the screen he grinned at a few of his soldiers.

“Good te’ have some young flesh with us.” he chuckled and a few soldiers grinned in response to his comment. I smiled, returning the screen to him after I was done. He liked to joke about how younger generations like myself were more technologically competent.

Once again, Lyle was pissed off. His ears were strained back and his arms folded as he glared at you while you continued a conversation with one of the soldiers.

It was true. I was younger than all of them. I was also the last to join the Deja Blu team. While we were all physically the same age now because our avatars were in their twenties, I was roughly that old when I died while the Colonel was over 50 and Lyle had almost reached 40. There was a significant mental age gap between Lyle and me but it wasn’t even noticeable. I subconsciously adapted my behaviour to the others and so did he, which balanced everything out.

Currently, I was in one of our meeting rooms with Quaritch. The General was there and he was talking to her about the mission. I stood next to the Colonel just as a backup and also to help him beam up the pictures we took of old retrieved machinery in the forest.

Lyle walked by, glancing through the huge glass windows and stopping in his tracks when he saw the layout of the scene in the room. He growled when he saw you standing next to your superior. Actually, his superior and your double-superior if that made sense. Lyle was also your superior so technically he could order you to do things when the Colonel wasn’t there.

He was definitely going to take advantage of his rank to get back at you.

Lyle walked inside while the General and Quaritch were talking. Their conversation was coming to an end and she told him to follow her to the aircraft runway to show him relevant equipment for the next mission. He wasn’t necessarily pleased about having to spend more time with her but he didn’t dare show it. He dismissed me, handing over the tablet he was holding to free his hands before following her to the door. The Colonel noticed Lyle and nodded towards him. The gesture was returned to Lyle. They had both gone and now it was just me, Lyle, and a few other humans doing scientific studies.

I was taking notes of what the Colonel had told me to write down and felt another presence. Turning around I spot Lyle and smile.

“Hey, don’t you have training?” I ask, putting the tablet down and turning to him. He didn’t smile back or even greet me which both confused and worried me. Lyle was always friendly.

“What are you doin’ here?” he asked and his voice seemed to be deeper than usual. I don’t take my eyes off him as he approaches me. I just study his movements trying to sense out of his emotions.

“The Colonel had a meeting, I helped take notes and-” I explain, giving him another friendly smile and motioning to the screen in front of me.

“Did he ask you?” Lyle’s tail swishes in irritation and the sign of body language makes my gently swaying tail freeze. Something is off and I can now tell he is not happy. Instantly, I’m worried I did something wrong even though I know I haven’t.

“Uhm, I guess so.” I reply, not sure how else to answer.

“You don’t know?” Lyle asks, his hard gaze meeting mine while his almost mocking tone undermines my words. I nervously look down, turning away from him. His presence suddenly seems so strong it intimidates me.

“I don’t remember.” I say before turning to the tablet and picking it up.

Lyle grits his teeth and in the next second his hand rips the tablet from mine. I stare up at him in shock at his rough actions.

“What are you doing?” I ask, not daring to take it back.

“Stop doin’ my job.” he growls at me, staring me down for a good few seconds before turning to leave with the tablet. Lyle slams the door closed behind him, leaving me standing alone. I flinch at the loud noise, not moving and just processing what happened.

I scan the room, looking at the humans who were already looking at me. Their curious eyes drank in the dramatic scene. I frown, pinning my ears to the side of my head and once they see I’ve spotted them they quickly turn away.

Confusion and anger were pumping through my body as I huffed through my nostrils in annoyance before exiting the room. Lyle was already gone.

That interaction put me in a bad mood and I most definitely expected an apology from him during our next encounter.

The next day, during a briefing Quaritch was giving the recom’s, he received a phone call. He saw it was someone ranking close to the General and his eyes met mine. He curled his finger, beckoning me to him and without hesitation, I got up from my seat and approached him.

“Notes.” he murmured before picking up the phone and I quickly unlocked mine, scrolling through files to find what he needed. Once I got it I handed him my phone and he gave me his usual appreciative nod before turning away and talking to the person on the phone. I stand patiently, waiting for him to finish so that I can get my phone back.

All the recom’s are used to me being called up and when he turns away they use the time as a break and start talking. I intuitively scan the room before my eyes lock with Lyle’s.

I freeze and my heart drops when I see that he’s staring me down again. He was sitting in the front row of the benches, leaning forwards on his arms which rested on his manspreading thighs. His glare made me stop chewing on my tongue and my ears were flattened back just like his.

He seemed to notice how I didn’t look away this time and took note of my reacting attitude towards him. The Colonel returned and Lyle looked away. I continued to study him as I sat down, trying to think of an explanation for his behaviour.

Did that count as taking his job away? But if so, what does he expect? I’m not going to ignore Quaritch’s orders. He asked me to do something, I’m going to do it. If Lyle has a problem with that, then I have a problem with Lyle.

The next time I spoke to Lyle was when the recom team wasn’t being used for its deemed mission but for chores. With our height and strength, we were a great help and happened to often do a better job than the human soldiers.

This time we were cleaning and repairing helicopters. There were 4 in total and Brown and I were in charge of one together.

Lyle was walking up and down the runway, keeping an eye on everything because Quaritch was busy.

Brown knelt down, tightening the screw and pipes of the engine while I held a cloth in my hand and wiped away the grease and ashes. He gave me a thumbs-up and I nodded, trying to start the engine again but once again the helicopter died. Brown groaned in frustration and I chuckled, walking over to him to see what it looked like.

“Shouldn’t that be screwed on here?” I ask, pointing it out to him.

“Don’t know, this is how the other guy showed me te’ do it.” he replied, shrugging. I hum, examining the mess.

“Y/N, back to work!” I hear Lyle loudly call from behind us. Both of us turn around to face him and I frown when my eyes meet him. He’s standing with his arms crossed and tail swaying.

“I am working.” I say, leaning on the front of the aircraft and looking at him.

“She’s helpin’ me out.” Brown said, looking up at Lyle. I smile, thankful for his helpful words.

Lyle glares at me and I raise an eyebrow, challenging him to complain about me even more.

“Wearin’ that?” he scoffs and I blink in silence, processing his nerve to even comment on my clothes. It was extremely warm in the garage for all aircraft, especially when we were working on their engines.

So I had shorts and a sports bra on, instead of my usual tank top. Not a big deal. It wasn’t the first time either.

“Yeah, you got a problem?” I ask, fully turning around to face him. Brown notices the tension and stands up. He wasn’t used to seeing me mad.

“I do actually, yes.” Lyle answered, taking an intimidating step forward but it just makes me sneer at him. We’re staring each other down until Brown comes to my rescue.

“She’s wearin’ more than me.” He says, making it sound like a light joke even though he is trying to scale down the situation. Brown was shirtless with just loose shorts on, so he wasn’t wrong.

Lyle’s eyes flicker to him, finally breaking the tense and harsh eye contact and I softly sigh.

“Get back to it then.” Wainfleet sternly says, turning away from us. I roll my eyes, turning back to the engine and Brown scans the two of us before kneeling down again.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, glancing up at me before reaching for the screwdriver.

“No idea. He’s been like this for the past few days.” I say with a sigh while my tail flicks in irritation.

“I think he’s into you.” he chuckles and I wheeze.

“Yeah, right. I’d rather die.” I say, realising I may not even mean that after I said it. Nonetheless, Brown didn’t need to know.

“I’m serious, he’s been an ass like this once and that was when he was all over some girl.“ Brown adds and I think about it.

“Besides, look at you. I think he’s interested.”

I scoff at his comment, hitting the back of his head which makes him laugh as he readjusts his baseball cap.

“He’s interested to kill me.” I say and Brown gives me a doubting look, wanting to reply but we’re interrupted.

“Y/N!” I hear a distant call which makes me turn my attention away from the conversation. I turn around, vaguely noticing that Lyle was still standing behind us and was facing us. He too was looking in the direction the voice came from.

Quaritch came out from around the corner, seeming rushed as he scanned the room for me. His eyes found me and his tense shoulders slumped in relief.

“Y/N, sweet’eart. I need you for the meeting.” He called and I nodded. I was completely oblivious to the pet name and it flew right by me. It just so happened to hit Lyle like a brick to the face and Brown noticed it too.

As I turn to leave I grin at Lyle who looks angry that I’m being called up instead of him. I chuck the dirty cloth at him.

“You can clean now. I’m needed elsewhere.” I tease him, smiling at Brown who is fighting a grin before jogging to where the Colonel came from.

Lyle was boiling with anger, gripping the cloth so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Pfft, ‘sweetheart’.” he mumbled in a mocking tone.

The fact that Quaritch called for you pissed him off even more and he wasn’t sure whether he was jealous of you or him. It seems as though the Colonel and you have become close with all the time you spend working together, so you doing Lyle’s job. He didn’t know whether to be mad at you for taking it away from him or whether to be mad at the Colonel for wanting you instead of him. Somehow, he also felt angry that you allowed Quaritch to call you pet names like that.

Lyle turned to Brown who avoided eye contact with him and started doing what I was before.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type.” Brown joked, glancing up at Lyle before taking cover behind the broken engine again.

Lyle’s ears tipped back at his words. “What? No! I’m not.” he snarls, aggressively cleaning the side of the aircraft. Brown didn’t say anything else, not wanting to cause a commotion.

“It’s just- she’s doin’ my job. Ya know? I’m the fuckin’ Lieutenant.” he huffs and Brown’s ears flick up. Lyle was talking to himself mostly, needing to let his frustration out. Brown preferred not to voice his opinion in fear of getting a beating.

‘You were going to pay for this’ Lyle thought.

The meeting Quaritch called me in for was similar to most others. It seemed as though the General needed to be re-informed of our mission every few days which was starting to annoy both Quaritch and me.

Luckily it ended before either of us started giving Ardmore some attitude.

She walked out of the room with her usual group of soldiers following her and the Colonel watched her leave with a stern look. Once the door closed behind them he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That woman’s gettin’ on my nerves.” he subtly said and I grinned, shutting down the computer and turning off the beamer. I wanted to comment on her too but I knew better than that.

“Why does she need us doing this every few days?” I ask, putting the remote control back into a drawer before facing the Colonel.

“Don’t think she trusts us.” Quaritch answers and I hum in reply.

“Anyway, you’ve been a great help Y/N. You’re dismissed for the rest of the evenin’.” he said, flashing me a smile and I returned it.

“Thank you, sir.” I say with a nod before walking out the door myself. There were a lot of thoughts going through my head at the moment so I had tunnel vision for the door of my room. I reached it, letting myself in and closing the door behind me, sighing in relief at the silence and privacy.

What you hadn’t noticed was, of course, Lyle. He refused to finish cleaning the helicopter and was actually planning on just going to wash his hands but he stumbled across the room you were having this ‘meeting’ in and decided to hang around there instead. Since he was a recombinant, no one would question why he isn’t working so he leaned against the wall next to one of the windows in the room and waited.

Once Ardmore left he turned around and looked inside, watching the interaction between the Colonel and you. You seemed to be having a pleasant conversation which put Lyle in a very non-pleasant mood.

He saw you start to leave and his eyes flickered to his superior, noticing how the Colonel peered after you.

Lyle’s ears automatically flattened back without him noticing. Of course, you were still wearing your skimpy outfit.

He waited for you to see him because he was very close to the door but your eyes didn’t catch him. Instead, you walked away and probably to your room.

Lyle huffed in annoyance, making sure the Colonel wouldn’t see him through the windows before following you down the long hallways. The third time he turned a corner he stopped and noticed you unlocking your door and walking inside. Now you were alone and he could scold you for all the shit you have done that’s pissed him off.

He slowly walked up to your door, stopping in front of it before knocking harshly at the wood.

My tired eyes shot open and my ears perked at the noise. I was in the bathroom, cleaning myself off with a wet towel. Droplets of water were running down my neck and chest after I had just rubbed off some of the helicopter's grease.

I sigh, holding on to the towel before walking to the door.

I open it, expecting to see Z-Dog asking where I’ve been of Brown trying to figure out more about the drama. But no, to my surprise, Lyle is standing in front of me and once again he doesn’t look happy.

I raise an eyebrow, wiping my cheek with the towel while waiting for him to say something.

“You know you’re meant to greet your superiors.” he said and I was already sick of his presence. I groaned, dropping my head because I felt too tired to deal with him and his shit now.

“Hm, that’s odd. I don’t remember that.” I say, purposefully angering him.

“You do.”

“Well, maybe it doesn’t apply to me since I might be your superior soon.” I say, smiling slyly at him.

Lyle growled and tried stepping in but I blocked his way. “Forget it, this is my space.” I snap and he grits his teeth.

“Too bad, mandatory room inspection.” he says and I know he’s making it up. This was pathetic and immature.

“Yeah right.” I snort and he straightens his posture, peering down at me.

“Do I have to remind you that I outrank you by two positions?” he said and my ears tip back. This wasn’t fair but he was right. I had to listen so I sighed, moving out of his way and he walks into my room.

I stand by the open door, following him with my eyes.

“Close it.” he orders and I stare for a few good seconds before complying. Yep, that’s it. I’m going to die in here on this good day.

I turn to face him while he stands in all his tall glory, frowning at me.

Lyle’s eyes scan my body and I take note of that, watching how they linger on my chest.

“Up here.” I say and I can see how he curses himself for having me catch him.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” he asks and his voice sounds strained which makes me think I might get a punch if I answer wrongly.

“No? I’m doing my job.”

“My job.” he quickly corrects me, spitting his words which makes me feel salty.

“I’m not going to disobey direct orders from the Colonel.” I hiss.

“He’s only given’ ‘em to you ‘cause of how you look.” Lyle snarls at me and I’m taken aback by his words.

Now my hands are resting on my hips as I glare up at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, clearly voicing my irritation through tone and body language. He shifts his weight onto one leg, looking up and swiping his thumb over his nose while he scoffs in disbelief.

“He’s checkin’ you out. Don’t think he gives you orders because he thinks you’re competent.”

My mouth drops open and I am very much offended. “He doesn’t fucking ‘check me out’.” I reply, staring daggers into this menace of a man.

“I saw him look after you when you left the room just now.” he says and I stay quiet. I don’t know how to respond and I’m confused what we’re even arguing about.

“Oh, don’t be all surprised now. Look at what you’re fuckin’ wearin’.” Lyle says motioning to my minimally dressed body and that’s all it takes for me to lose it.

Without hesitation, I slap Lyle across the face and it clearly startles him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” I spit my words at him, pointing my finger while he holds his cheek. “I wear this to training and it’s never been a big deal!” I shout and my noise level seems to bother him. He glances at the door before returning his fierce eyes to me.

“Be quiet.” he mumbles but I shake my head.

“You don’t even wear a shirt!”

“Y/N- stop.”

“You know, maybe the Colonel just wants someone mature and professional for once.” I snarl and Lyle stops his movements.

“What did you just say?” he asks, taking a step forwards. I stand my ground, not looking away.

“You heard me. The shit you’re doing right now is close to crossing the line.” I snarl and he raises an eyebrow. “I can report you for-”

My words are cut off when Lyle walks straight up to me and his right-hand wraps around my throat. I go to push him off me but he catches my wrist with his other hand.

“You’re such a fuckin’ pain in my ass, you know that?” Lyle growls and I frown up at him, trying to desperately pull his hand from my neck but it doesn’t budge.

“You’re such an asshole, get out of my-”

This time I’m interrupted by something I would have never expected and the action startles me so much that my heart stops beating for a second and I don’t move.

Lyle pulls me to him with the help of the grip he has around my throat and crashes his lips against mine. He holds me in place and kisses me roughly and after a second I kiss back. Why I do that I have no idea but he’s gotten me so frustrated with everything I can’t think logically around him.

The kiss turns into a heated make-out session and the hand he had wrapped around my throat was now tightly gripping the base of my queue on the back of my head. He tugged at it, making me tilt my head upwards to him.

My hands roam up his torso, rearranging the tank top before I close them into fists around the cloth by his neck. He doesn’t pull away and I’m starting to pant every time I can. One of my hands retreats from the deafening grip I had on his shirt to his bicep and I dig my fingernails into his skin. I still hated him and quite frankly didn’t care if I hurt him. He seemed to feel the same because he growled and squeezed my queue in response, making me whimper.

While some messed up part of me was into the whole thing, that pissed me off and I harshly pushed him in the chest. It broke the kiss and he took a step back to balance himself.

My chest was heaving, mirroring his own while I breathed heavily. Lyle was watching me intently, still clearly enraged. Both our ears were pinned back flat against our heads, reminding the other of the hatred we felt for each other despite the attraction I refuse to bring up.

“This is why you’re so provoked by me?” I tease him, rolling my shoulders back. His tail furiously flicks behind him.

“You’re into me and now you wanna get your dick wet?” I joke, trying to demean him.

He steps forward again, this time harshly gripping my jaw and forcing me to meet his stern glare.

“I’m not into you.” He snarls. “You just happen to be wearin’ the sluttiest thing they got.”

“Aww, are you having a hard time controlling yourself?” I coo, trying to baby him and make fun of him before I can’t take his angry face seriously anymore. I break into light laughter and Lyle growls again. I feel the vibrations from his chest. He pushed me back and my back hit the wall with a thud, making my eyes close from the sudden impact.

He was going to do what he needed to do but you didn’t deserve to get it on the bed. That would be too intimate so you’re getting it against a wall.

I look up at him with wide eyes and am quick to realise that I am very much not in control of the events that will soon unfold.

Lyle reaches behind his back, tugging his tank top over his head and discarding it on the ground before coming over to me. I don’t dare move and within seconds one of his hands caught my wrist, holding it above me and firmly pressed against the wall. I let out a faint gasp, following his movements and trying to wriggle it free but I fail.

Before I can try another miserable escape attempt, his other hand wraps around the strap of my sports bra and he tears it apart with ease. My breath catches in my throat and when he does the same to the other strap, a part of it recoils and slingshots back against my skin, making me flinch and cry out but Lyle couldn’t care less.

He tears apart the remaining cloth until it’s no longer wrapped around my torso and he lets it fall to the floor.

“You jerk, I liked that one.” I hiss at him, trying to catch his attention but Lyle’s head is elsewhere as he just stares at my now bare chest.

“Yeah?” He asks and I know he’s about the belittle my petty words.

“The Colonel did too. He’s never seein’ you in it again.”

I scoff. “Next time, I’ll go to him like this then.”

I answer, motioning to my bare chest because I knew that would get under his skin.

“You don’t know when to stop do ya?” he asks before his hand roughly fastens around the back of my neck and he turns me around. My chest and face are pressed against the wall while his other arm tugs my hips towards him, making me arch my back.

Within seconds my shorts have been pulled down my legs and before I could complain, his large palm delivered a harsh spank to my ass. I flinched away from his touch, pushing up further against the wall while I heard a deep chuckle from behind me.

“You’re in for it now.” he scowled and I snarled, pressing myself away from the wall and flicking him in the face with my tail. I wanted to turn around but he still held me by the neck and another skin-reddening spank landed on my ass. He gave me about 5 more, making them sting harder each time and I stopped struggling to get him to stop.

“You deserve more than that, you’re just lucky I’m impatient today.” he said, pulling me back from the wall and spinning me around.

I was going to get him back for making my ass sting so harshly.

His hands wrapped around my waist and he hoisted me into the air. Being lifted from my feet distracted me enough to not deliver another slap to his face.

He moved closer, resting me on his hips while my legs dangled on either side of him. Lyle looked distracted enough by the new position he put us in so I used this opportunity to harm him again. The fight was on and I wasn’t giving up.

My fingers clawed at his shoulders and then I tried to choke him with both hands but when I looked up at him, he looked completely unfazed by my aggressive antics.

Lyle’s hands were on my hips, and he was busy looking at my bare body which was shielded with just my panties at this point. He flexed his core abs and forced my hips to roll forwards while he pressed his up against mine.

I gasped when I felt him grind himself against me and my hands automatically loosened, falling from his neck and resting on his chest. A bolt of electric excitement shot through me and I bit my lip, hating the pleasure I felt.

He did it again and I tightly held onto his shoulders, pressing my lips together to suppress any noises that might fuel this bad idea.

Lyle looked up at my face and smirked when he saw my struggle to keep quiet. He decided to just keep repeating his actions until my rebellious acts will finally give out.

I had to occasionally close my eyes but once I felt his hardening dick twitch beneath me and press right against my clothed core, my sealed lips fell open and I moaned.

Lyle’s ears perked forwards and his sly smirk turned into a shit-eating grin.

“Ya feel good?” he asked me in a teasing manner.

“Shut up.” I answer breathily, not having a snarky remark I can fire back. I was lucky because Lyle wasn’t able to withstand me that long. The teasing ended quickly.

His fingers curled around the side of my underwear and to my displeasure but not a surprise, he tore the cloth apart and it joined the pile on the floor. I was naked now in his hands and he exhaled shakily while his starved eyes drank in all they saw.

His eyes widened when he noticed my tattoo. It was located above my pussy, close enough to always be covered by any panties I wore. The hand that threw away my panties came up to my lower abdomen and he traced his fingers down it.

“Fuck- I never knew you had this.” he mumbled, unable to tear his eyes off of the teasing pattern decorating my skin.

Now it’s my turn to evilly smirk at him. “You like it?” I ask, feigning innocence.

He scoffs, still staring down at it. “If I knew you had this, I wouldn’t have been able to wait this long.”

I grin before reaching between us and unbuckling his belt.

Lyle was brought out of his trance of fantasies and stared down at my hands.

“Look who’s all needy now.” he cooed, teasing me again and I huffed.

“Shut up, you did this to me.”

“Fuck yeah I did.” he replied, interpreting it rather as a compliment than an insult.

His hands replaced mine and he pushed his pants down, letting them pool around his ankles with his underwear.

I shudder, letting out a shaky breath as my eyes are met with his throbbing cock. The tip was glistening, already smeared with droplets of pre-cum while I watched the veins on the underside pulse. He was so much bigger than I could have possibly imagined and it looked so inviting.

I wanted to touch him but Lyle was feeling too restless.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk.” he said and I scoffed.

“Yeah right, like you’d ever manage that.”

I knew I could be underestimating him but we weren’t here to fucking make love. I was still mad at him for his behaviour.

“Quit bein’ a bitch and I might be nice.” he snarled, readjusting me on him while his lust-blown eyes stared into mine.

“Forget it, you started this.” I hiss and we’re back at the beginning again, arguing back and forth.

The tension in his body rose and Lyle decided to change my mind with actions instead of words. He didn’t like his odds because he knew you had a big mouth and talking wasn’t his absolute strength.

His hands held me up by the back of my thighs and he pulled his hips slightly back before moving forwards so that his tip was now pressing against my bare entrance. He had lifted me a little higher to achieve that and I bit my lip in anticipation.

The pressure of his tip against me had my pussy throbbing and then his fingers came down and he started gliding one through my folds.

I let my head fall back against the wall while I held onto his arms. He continued his actions, circling my clit and successfully not leaving a single area untouched.

Lyle started slowly pushing into me while he gently applied pressure on my clit and I was slowly melting into his touch. The pleasure I felt made it easier for him to enter me and soon enough, Lyle was buried hilt-deep in me.

He groaned, digging his fingers into the plush of my thighs to keep him steadied. “Shit… so tight.”

“Lyle-” I gasp, relishing in the feeling of being filled by him. I glance down, noticing a faint bump in my belly which made my stomach twist with more excitement.

Hearing his name did unspeakable things to the marine soldier and he drew his hips back before pushing in a little faster and steadier this time.

I sighed, relaxing into him and once Lyle noticed I was taking him well he took things up a notch. His hips gliding back and forth turned into unwavering thrusts which sped up as we started to accept each other. Soon I was being shoved against the wall with each stroke and Lyle started rutting into me like this was the last time we would ever get this chance.

I closed my legs around his waist to ensure I stay on him while we both started getting lost in the feeling of pleasure. My eyes were fluttering closed with occasional whimpers and moans being drawn from my lips. They spurred Lyle on and his head was dropped forward and next to mine. His grunts and pants filled my ears and I loved the noises he made. My stomach tightened each time he groaned in bliss and he felt it when my pussy hugged him tighter.

We were both so frustrated and wound up from our arguments that we grew desperate for each other without knowing it. Finally, we were being relieved from all the tension and suspense and our senses were more responsive. Meaning, neither of us was going to last very long.

“Holy shit-” I moan, gasping when the angle he uses to drill into me hits my sweet spot. “I’m so close.”

Lyle growls into my ear, pressing his face into my neck and deeply inhaling my scent. It drove him feral and he couldn’t wait to cloak it with his musk. That way it would be made clear to the others, that you were his even without you knowing.

“Come on,” he whispered, encouraging me to cum. His words mixed with the next thrust absolutely crash me over the edge and my body trembles in euphoria.

I moan, arching my back off the wall and holding on to him for dear life while my pussy clenches down on him.

Lyle moans, knowing he will spill any second.

My orgasm washes over me and my pussy is throbbing wildly as I regain my breath.

He thrusts into me a few more times before quickly pulling out. In an instant, his hand closes into a fist around his shaft and he jerks himself until his cum sputters from his tip.

“Fuckkk-” he curses, throwing his head back before quickly looking down at our bodies again.

I watch with wide eyes as the thick ropes of white and almost luminescent cum paint my quivering pussy. He’s aiming for my tattoo and manages to almost fully cover it.

Once he calms down I smile to myself, loving how a small and naughty tattoo like that can make him so weak.

“Damn, this tat’ has you whipped.” I giggle, looking up at him. Lyle sighs, knowing I’m right. “ I’d say you like it more than me.”

“Fuck’s sake, all of you is so amazing.” he breathily answers, dropping his head into the crook of my neck again. He’s still floating in pleasure and his head isn’t fully back yet.

I raise an eyebrow. “All of me?”

Lyle pulls away, smirking at me. “We need to work on your attitude a little but otherwise-”

I pretend to be hurt and give him a light punch in the chest which makes him chuckle.

“My attitude is what got you laid, so play nice.”

He laughs before gently placing me on the ground. Lyle picks up the ripped clothes which used to be one and cleaned me up.

“I don’t know if you deserve ‘nice’. ” he replied and I rolled my eyes before walking over to my bed and picking up my large sleeping t-shirt. Lyle watched me not put it on and I smiled at him before leaving the room and going into the bathroom.

“You not comin’ back outside?” he asked, meaning the base.

“Nope. Our lovely Colonel dismissed me for the rest of the evening.” I call back to him. Lyle’s ears flick back for a brief moment.

‘Of course, he fucking did that’ Lyle thought. He looked down at what used to be your bra and felt a sense of pride when he saw how torn it was.

“Well, your bra’s done for so you ain’t gettin’ any more time off from him.” Lyle jokes.

“Can’t hear you I’m showering!” I shout and Lyle stands still for a few moments, thinking.

He glances at the door he came in through, contemplating whether he should get back to work. Then he looked towards you and saw you in the shower.

Let’s just say that work can wait.

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Y/N:

Tag List: @number1gal @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

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