#the spicy six get high together

[flowercrowngods]

it's yearning steddie get high with the others and make out about it hours (smut-ish)

Eddie hates being reminded that making promises to himself, and only himself, is pretty much useless if the only person holding him accountable to stick to his promise is one Eddie fucking Munson. Because that guy can’t be trusted. 

Especially not when it comes to Steve and his stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect dimples, his preppy fucking everything, and — perhaps most importantly — the breathy note his voice gets when the boy replaces his beautiful piece of brain with Eddie’s finest weed. 

Steve in all his sober glory is unbearable at best, sure, that’s old news. But high? When the pained frown he’s not even aware of until he complains about a headache smoothes out and the tension in his shoulders disappears? When his scars no longer pull at every movement and he can hold himself again in the way he used to before everything — broad movements with a clumsy little edge to them that have Eddie’s heartstrings play rope skipping with his sanity.

That. That’s it. That’s it for Eddie. 

And it’s no surprise that it’s also what leaves him helpless in the face of Nancy hopefully suggesting they get high again tomorrow night; all of them. Offering Eddie the chance at getting to see that tension fall away again, and that pale smile be replaced with an easy, genuine, lingering one — dreamy and so fucking pretty. 

Luring Eddie with the most beautiful insanity.

So he says yes, despite having promised himself that he wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time. With Steve all the way up in his space, brushing his hair behind his ear with wonderment, trailing his hand down that lock until he forgot what he was going to say. What he was going to do. 

Forgetting, too, that Eddie was sober, because he wanted to watch Steve without getting caught — but Steve, all high and sweet and tactile, apparently decided to do the same. He looked. And touched. And smiled and breathed and stayed right there. Fingertips dancing around the frayed ends of Eddie’s hair.

Something shifted — first between them, then around them. And then between them again when Eddie stepped back and turned away, in desperate need of a cool drink to stave off the feeling of being caught, of being trapped, of being so fucking gone on the prettiest god-damn boy in all of Indiana. And of having said boy look at him like that. 

They shouldn’t get high again. They shouldn’t. 

But he knows it helps with the pain like their meds never do; he knows it helps Nance sleep better, breathe better, exist in this post-apocalyptic world that doesn’t even remember the apocalypse, whose only reminders lie in the scar tissue of some teenagers and some graves that nobody knows are empty. 

He knows that if he says no, they’ll find someone else to provide; and he doesn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit. 

So it’s not even the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile that gets him to agree, nodding at Nance with an easy smile, saying, “Sure, let’s do it.” 

But it is the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile, his breathy voice, his tactile nature that comes out even more when he’s high out of his mind like he knows he’s floating and needs someone to anchor him, and the memory of that stolen little moment, that makes Eddie curse himself to all hells once Nancy’s blooming smile is out of sight and he’s free of judgment to kick the kitchen counter beside him with a hearty curse. 

He can do it. He can. All he needs to do is not stay sober this time, take the edge off and get out of his head about all of this, because he’s actually far less likely to do anything stupid under the influence, and also not look at Steve All Eyes On Me Harrington. 

Easy. 

Right? 

Totally. 

Except, as it turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right? 

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face. 

A face that shouldn’t look so sad. 

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve. 

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself. 

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t— 

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch. 

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened. 

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.” 

Eddie regains his footing and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone. 

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin. Wants to feel it shift into something deeper. Something real. 

God, he’s so hopeless. 

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now. 

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice. 

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it. 

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again. 

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there. 

Making him wish he could ask. Touch me higher. Lower. Longer. Make it last. Make it count. Let me feel it, just for a second. Let me feel it where they didn’t steal chunks of my skin and my soul and, apparently, my sanity. 

Argyle is the first to spread out on the blankets with a hearty groan that leaves everyone with a fond smile, gathering around him in a semi circle of amusement. He makes grabby hands at Robin, or maybe at the unlit joints she’s safekeeping — but either way, she follows suit, cuddling up to Argyle and in turn making grabby hands at Steve, who does as he’s told and laughs in that gentle, melodic way that they so seldomly hear these days. 

Steve’s eyes fall on Eddie then, but a surge of worry and panic overcomes him, half expecting Steve to follow Robbie’s and Argyle’s example and reach for Eddie next. Or not reach for him. Either way, Eddie doesn’t want to find out, his heart beating in his chest at the endless possibilities stowed away in his overactive imagination. Instead of waiting for Steve’s next move, he sits down right here at the opposite end of the blanket, reaching for one of the pillows so he can hug it to his chest and have something to hold on to, just to keep his hands busy. 

“Just don’t crush the goods there, birdie,” he grins, watching Nancy and Johnathan find a place to sit, too. He scoots over to make room for them, moving further from Steve in the process and feeling the distance in his chest. It’s so stupid. Fucked up, really. 

“Oh, the goods are plenty safe, my dude,” Argyle says, earning himself a giggly groan from Robin that sounds a lot like, Gross!

Jonathan throws a pillow in Argyle’s face, which he deftly catches with just as salacious a grin. 

Eddie tunes them out for a moment as he catches Steve’s eyes boring into him. He cocks an eyebrow and inclines his head, silently asking him what’s up in way less magical a way than he has with Robin. 

He doesn’t really expect Steve to react in any way other than maybe a shrug or a brief, reassuring smile that really has no meaning other than, I’m fine, except for all the ways you know I’m not. 

But Steve doesn’t smile. And he doesn’t shrug. He keeps his eyes on Eddie and fucking pouts. Looks like he’s not even aware of it, his eyes a little glazed already, seeming far away. Far away and right here and looking so fucking sad about it. About the few feet between them and Eddie being all the way over there. 

It’s a bit like the moment they shared earlier, with Steve looking so sad and Eddie wanting to do something about it. He couldn’t then. But now… 

Eddie’s breath hitches a little as he mirrors Steve’s position, falling backwards and leaning on his elbows., never once dropping his eyes. Stretching out his legs until he can nudge Steve’s ankle with his foot. Watching as those eyes snap down to the briefest contact in surprise, watching as Steve looks caught. And watching, too, as his lips twitch and his foot slowly, incrementally moves closer to Eddie’s like he can’t help it. Like he needs to touch him. Always, always needs to touch him. 

And Eddie can feel it there, so he doesn’t move away. He wants to hold his hand, wants to run his fingers through his hair and for Steve to do the same. He wants to breathe him in, wants to live in a Steve-filled world and feel welcomed in it. 

But he can’t. Because they’re not like that. And because this moment is not like that. And Steve is… Well, he is like that, he’s pretty sure. But maybe not for Eddie. Maybe not like that. 

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s;  threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever. 

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous. 

It’s ridiculous, and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things. 

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

He’s glad there’s still a pillow in his lap. And he’s glad, too, that the night is dark enough, the fairy lights not bright enough, to reveal the flush rising to his cheeks as it feels like the bravest thing he’s ever done stay like this. To have Steve looking at him like this. Eyes hooded and intense. Like he sees right through Eddie. Like he likes what he sees. 

With a dull click, Robin’s Zippo pulls him back to reality in what must be the gentlest of ways, and Eddie manages a smile as he watches her gently place the doobie between Steve’s lips before she lights it, one hand on his cheek. Their faces light up, leaving the rest of the world in the dark, and Eddie is struck with how good they are together. 

There’s something in the way she lights the joint for him, some kind of love language from the girl who burnt down the hell dimension below them and left it in ashes, and the boy who held her hand through it. 

She holds his eyes as the flame dies and something passes between them as Steve slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Takes that first hit. 

Eddie’s smile falters as he watches, the glowing cherry coming to life and lighting up Steve’s face, revealing that relaxed little smile on his lips as he holds it in for five, six, seven before exhaling  around it in a slow, drawn-out way. He blows it in Robin’s face like he always does, and Robin laughs and shoves him back, like she always does. 

And Eddie wants to trade her place. Like he always does. Eyes transfixed on Steve as he takes the next hit and pulls the joint from between his lips. Holding his breath again. And Eddie wants to be held like that. Wants to fill Steve’s lungs like that, wants to leave an aftertaste that is both sweeter and biting as he does to Steve what that first hit does to him. Leaving him all soft and gentle and so, so at ease, his eyes droopy and all those lines of pain and worry smoothed out by him. Eddie. On his lips. In his mouth. Fuck, anywhere, really. Everywhere. 

He follows Steve on his exhale, his head getting a little dizzy with the lack of air, but still he is slow to breathe in again. It feels strangely intimate, watching him like this. Watching as that tension falls away and he hums a little around the bud — relaxed and relieved and appreciative. It feels like they’re the only people left in this town, in this state, maybe in the whole world. 

Eddie wants to stay alone like this forever, chase Steve’s breath and wish it would hit his face like that, caress his cheeks until the air around them claims it and erases all traces of Steve; but not from Eddie’s skin. Never from his skin. 

But they’re not alone. And Steve opens his eyes. And Eddie is caught. 

Still he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away as Steve blows out the smoke, sweet and earthy in the air between them as it slowly finds its way to him across the blanket. He imagines that he can feel it as the smell grows stronger, imagines the smoke to feel warm against his cheek as he breathes it all in, holding those hazel eyes in the dark that refuse to look away from him. 

It’s like that moment the other day in Steve’s kitchen when he was so close Eddie could smell all of him, frozen as he was, rooted to the spot — too scared to move and reveal himself, reveal all of himself, all the ugly truths and dreams. His wishes. His desires. 

Why do you keep looking? Eddie wants to ask. What are you looking to find? Am I just an experiment to you, are you looking at yourself through my eyes? Say something. Anything. 

But Steve doesn’t. He never does. Steve Harrington isn’t really the type to just say what’s on his mind, too used to Robin by his side to just read it all and react in her own way. Too used to Dustin, who’d do the talking for him. Too used to just letting his eyes, his arms, his posture convey his message. 

Too used to people knowing him. Getting a good read on him. But not Eddie, because Eddie never learned how to fucking read people like Steve Harrington cast in pretty light and relaxation. Angry, he can read him no problem. When he’s pissed, when he’s annoyed, when he’s sad. Tense. Worried. 

But not this. Never this. This intensity, this steady gaze resting only on him. He never looks at Robin like that, and he doesn’t fucking look at anyone else lately. 

It’s driving Eddie insane. 

It’s too much. 

He snaps when Steve passes the joint back to Robin, and sits up to pull his feet back to himself, covering them with his hands to pretend the warmth is still there. Frowns at the holes in his socks, feeling more exposed than ever. He curls in on himself a little, pretending to be very fascinated with a little thread that’s come loose in the blanket beneath him while the others hold casual conversation around him. 

This was a bad idea. He’s so fucked. 

Part of him debates if he should leave, if he should just call it a day and bid them goodnight. The other part of him wants to just close the distance between him and Steve and settle in beside him so the weight of that gaze won’t fucking wear him down any more. 

But knowing Steve, that wouldn’t work. 

Knowing Steve, nothing works. 

Feeling pathetic and small, Eddie lets himself fall to his side, hiding his face behind Nancy, whose hand comes to rest in his hair, combing through it just a little bit. Allowing him to collect himself. This isn’t new, and they don’t really question when Eddie just randomly lies down anywhere, or if he just stops talking all of a sudden. 

It’s why they do this, after all. No judgment. No questions. Just the sweet, sweet release of Mary Jane. 

It helps, having her hands in his hair like this, grounding him. It helps, finding no question or worry in her eyes as she looks down at him with a little smile — her way of including him in the conversation. He smiles back, just a little bit, and closes his eyes to better focus on her hand rather than the moment. She chuckles when he begins to purr, and then the smile stays a little longer. 

After a while, when she offers him the joint, Eddie shifts to lie on his back and gazes up to find the clouds have cleared and revealed the night sky behind them. It’s pretty, the summer sky, and he takes a long drag trying to think of nothing else. A hot wave of smoke hits his lungs, and it tickles a bit just like it always does, but the urge to cough it back out has been gone for years. These days, his lungs allow the warm embrace of the smoke and allow him to hold his breath as long as he wants, feeling a pleasant buzz after the fifth drag. It’s the good stuff after all. Munson’s Finest. 

He passes the joint back to Nancy, too comfortable to get up and pass it to anyone else, trusting her to do it without complaint. She does. She’s an angel like that. Puts her hand back in his hair and plays with his overgrown bangs a little while Eddie just stares up at the sky. 

Steve’s talking, but the words don’t really translate. It doesn’t matter, though. Just hearing his voice is enough for Eddie to sort of drift into a pleasant sphere of nothingness, his chest tightening a little with it. Always, always tight when he hears that voice. Like his heart has grown three times its size and his ribcage didn’t get the memo that Eddie Munson is hopelessly, helplessly, endlessly gone for a boy who refuses to look away. 

The thing is, Steve has always looked. Always. Even in the Upside Down. The first time, and the second. And then, the third. And Eddie wants it to mean something. Wants it to mean everything, or at least carry that possibility. 

But there’s no way to find out. There’s only him and the stars and Nancy Wheeler’s hand in his hair after his life took several wrong turns that left him with more scar tissue than skin these days, and the horrible realisation that, after the world ended and rebuilt, he can fall in love. That he can want. That he can have these cravings that he’d always heard everyone else talk about, wondering if that was just another layer of freak to him, or if he was simply Like That. 

They’re lonely realisations, he finds. Alienating, in a way. Because not only does he not know how to navigate Harrington, no, he’s a riddle even to himself right now. 

All he knows is that he wants to touch. To hold. To kiss. To crawl into him, on top of him, beneath him, and pull his own name from those lips in tiny little gasps that have nothing in common with the frantic gasps of panic after their first stint with the hell dimension. He wants a do-over. He wants a chance. A real fucking chance to have all these smiles, all these looks mean something. 

Arm outstretched, he reaches for the blunt again, taking it from whomever has it right now, aiming to shut off his brain a little more. Not to suppress it, but to shut it off. Even if that means he has to finish this thing. It’s fine. They have more. They always have more, because Jon and Argyle have an unreal fucking tolerance. 

With a chuckle, Nancy bypasses his hand and puts the joint between his lips and ignores his indignant hum. 

“Treat yourself”, she says, her voice wonderfully slow and lower in pitch. “I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

“‘Kay.” 

The warmth of her hand leaves his scalp, and with her body gone — getting up in way too swift a motion even for sober people — the night air seems a little colder. Eddie shivers a little, refusing to look at anyone, and just takes drag after drag, deciding he’ll finish this one. It’s his weed after all. 

By the sounds of it, Robin is already lighting the next one. Good girl. Smart girl. Best fucking girl in the whole wide world. 

Thick clouds of hot smoke waft through his lungs and all the way through his body up to his brain, leaving his arms and legs with a tingling feeling and his head with a pleasant buzz and tunes out most everything else around him. It’s great. It’s good. It’s wonderful. 

It’s why he doesn’t realise that the air is warm again and a body shielding him from everyone else until there’s a hand in his hair again. He opens his eyes to snark at Wheeler, but— 

It’s not Wheeler. It’s Steve. Knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top as he smiles down at Eddie. 

Neither of them says a word, but Eddie’s breath hitches. Stops, stutters. Just like his heart. And yet all he can do is stare up. Wonder if it’s real. Wonder if it’s real. 

“Is this okay?” Steve whispers, fingers barely touching Eddie’s skin as he sort of plays with his hair. 

After a beat or two, Eddie nods, careful not to move too much. Careful not to chase those fingers and all the things they could mean. 

“Good.” 

And then Steve pulls the joint from between Eddie’s lips, and Eddie wants to warn him because this one’s close to the end and bound to be stronger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Steve as he just sucks in the smoke like it’s the first lungful of air he gets after a long day stuck inside. Smiling around the bud as it dies between his lips, he presses it into the grass beside him, extinguishing the last of it. 

He exhales, and Eddie can make out a tiny cloud of smoke against the night sky, watching as it wanders toward him. He waits for Steve to say something. There is what feels like intent in the movements of his hand, in the sudden appearance by his side, and in the way he— he fucking looks at him again. The sky is full of stars, the backyard full of fairy lights, and Steve Harrington is looking at him. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks at last, breaking the silence, wondering if his voice always sounds so small, so quiet, so endlessly tiny. Wondering if Steve even heard. 

But he did, because he smiles again. He did, because his hand stills. Touches Eddie’s skin. His scalp, his temple. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking from Eddie’s eyes to his own hand with something akin to wonder. Or marvel. 

And Eddie shivers again when that hand travels down. Caressing his cheek, definitely with intent. Electricity shoots through his body again, and the intensity in Steve’s eyes leaves him with goosebumps. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Barely even swallows as Steve bites his lip absently and moves on, trailing from Eddie’s cheek down to his... 

He’s touching his lips, and Eddie doesn’t breathe. Steve runs his forefinger along Eddie’s bottom lip, and in another world would he open his mouth and nip on his fingers or gasp at the touch and be better at this, be so much better at everything. But in this one, he lies motionless as Steve just fucking… explores. 

And his touch is so light, it’s so gentle, so sweet on the rough scar tissue, and yet so absent, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He could pull back his hands now and claim that Eddie had something there. He could pull back and live his life unchanged. Leave Eddie behind in this state of paralysis, changed irrevocably, and be safe. 

But that’s not what Steve does. 

Steve was never one to choose safety over bravery, and he has the scars to prove it now. The permanent stiffness of his back that barely lets him feel anything these days. The set in his jaw when he breathes through the pains phantom and real, the crease between his brows when the memory pains flare up. 

But his back is hunched in comfort now rather than in pain, and his shoulders are at ease. His lips are lightly ajar around a barely-there smile, and the skin between his eyes is smooth. Eddie wants to reach out and trace it, wants to caress it in the hopes that it’ll stay smooth forever. 

He’s so pretty. Golden light catching his skin in all the right ways, leaving him positively glowing with that look he gives Eddie. That look. 

Eddie’s never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. Laid bare, ready for dissection and willing to be taken apart in the hopes of letting him find what he wants and take it. Rip it right out of his chest. Now that he has Steve’s hand on his skin in the lightest of touches that’s anything but fleeting, he knows he would let him take anything he wants. Knows he would be helpless to stop him. 

Helpless in the face of that gaze that trails down to his lips now, if only to follow his fingers. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, barely moving his mouth at all around that single syllable. 

Golden hazel eyes flit back to his, and they widen a little. Like suddenly it’s Steve who’s caught. 

What are you doing? Eddie wants to ask. What are we doing? Don’t stop. Never stop. 

But words are for moments lighter than this one. Words are not meant for a world that’s changing. 

Maybe that is why Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tipping it up and turning his face toward him in a gesture so tender it’s almost possessive. Electricity shoots through Eddie again and the air between them is sizzling with it, sizzling because Steve is moving, shifting, dipping his head, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s throat to keep him from moving away — except there is no force in his touch, and Eddie could still run. 

He could. He should, maybe. Like last time. 

But he is suspended in time, chained to the ground by the weight of Steve’s gaze and the hand on his throat, and his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he is sure Steve can feel it. Imagines that those fingers move to find his pulse. Imagines that they find their home there, imagines that they hear the tales of stolen hearts and desires that leave his blood rushing. 

Imagines that Steve falters a little, hovering just above Eddie. Dreams of it all, dreams that this is real and that he can have this, just for tonight. He nods, and it’s a tiny little thing, far from enough to ruin this moment or wake him from his dream.

But then Steve captures his lips with such care that Eddie snaps back into his body and realises that this is no dream. Steve is kissing him. Hovers above him with one arm resting in the grass above Eddie’s head, his other hand pulling Eddie’s face towards himself and being oh so gentle about it. 

A whimper escapes him when this new reality settles inside his body, leaving him reeling and pulled towards a world of possibilities as those lips, those warm lips, rest so indulgently against his. 

No longer chained, Eddie carefully lifts a hand to Steve’s head, because Steve can feel him there, too, and because he doesn’t want this to end. Because he needs to touch. All night, all week, all this time he has needed to touch. To cradle. To hold. 

To keep. 

Steve hums, and those lips pull into a smile before closing around Eddie’s bottom lip. The first touch of Steve’s tongue has jolts of electricity and arousal zinging through Eddie’s body again, lingering this time and making a home in his legs that begin to tingle with want. 

Eddie opens his mouth, tilting his head a little to get a better angle, and is rewarded with the careful, addictive touch of Steve’s tongue against his. It makes Steve smile again, just for a second — but long enough to make Eddie’s heart jump. 

He chases those lips when they pull back, capturing them with a little hum as he realises he comes more and more unchained, regaining feeling and control over his body, his mind, his scared little heart. Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pushing Eddie’s head down into the grass again with an urgency that Eddie is beginning to understand matches the hunger he’s feeling. 

The hunger that is reserved only for Steve. It leaves him breathless, leaves him with the sudden need to gasp for air, but then Steve’s tongue is in his mouth again and maybe he doesn’t need to breathe ever again. 

He loses himself in the wet slide of their tongues that feels so sensual it’s almost obscene, and all he can do is tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and keep him right where he is while Eddie himself lies boneless, all the blood rushing down, down, down. Every nip of Steve’s teeth as he devours Eddie so entirely and yet so innocently, so sweetly, so carefully, and every time he sucks on his lips or his tongue results in another wave of intense arousal. And Eddie is stuck in the riptide of it. 

It doesn’t take long for the first moan to break the silence, a gasped little thing, almost like an afterthought, and he’s not sure if that was him or Steve; but he doesn’t really care either way, because he’s so hard, he feels like he can come from just Steve sucking on his tongue alone. 

And isn’t that an enticing thought. 

“Steve,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s going to say, or if that’s really all he needs to say. All that’s left to say. Steve, Steve, Steve. 

The only response he gets is a breathy little, “Fuck,” and it sounds like a revelation. Like an epiphany. And Eddie wants to hear it again, wants to swallow all the little noises and murmurs and everything Steve will give him. 

“You’re so—“ Steve begins, interrupting himself with another deep, hungry kiss. “Fuck. You’re…” 

“Yeah?” Eddie counters, breaking the kiss by pulling on Steve’s hair a little. “I’m what?” 

Steve hesitates, panting breaths dancing over Eddie’s skin and he smells so fucking good. Eddie wants to lick the aftershave and perfume and sweat off his neck and keep the taste on his tongue for days. Dark, blown eyes wander over his face, and the hand that was on his throat comes up to rest on his cheek again in a gesture so gentle that it almost gives him whiplash. The hunger is gone — or, not gone, but unimportant now. 

Steve smiles, hazy but genuine and so, so sweet, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s no doubt swollen lips. 

“Been wanting to do that forever.” 

Eddie’s heart jumps, falters, falls. Just a little. Just the rest of the way. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna kiss you forever.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie breathes, voice barely there because his breath has well and truly been taken away, and this moment feels so fragile. So easily broken by quick movements or thoughts that are just a little too loud, just a little too soon. “‘M not gonna stop you.” 

Steve’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s something in there that not even the weed could ease away. “Yeah?” 

Eddie nods, frowning a little, wondering what makes him so unsure. 

“Cool,” Steve says, and it’s almost nonchalant and definitely charming in that way he always is. Makes Eddie laugh a little, his other hand coming up to wipe a strand hair out of his eyes. “So…” He trails off. 

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna stay here? Or go inside, or…” 

And then it’s not arousal that overcomes him but worry. And guilt. And a bit of fear, because that’s not what this is for him. Not like this. Not when they’re high, not for the first time. 

He swallows, schooling his face to cooperate and not give it all away right now, not give away how helplessly gone he is for that boy and how he would do anything Steve wants, how he would take anything he can get and try to make it be enough. But instead of choosing the easy thing and betraying himself, he moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his cheek, melting at the way Steve leans into it, moving his face to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm. 

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is shaky again. And small. So, so small. “That’s not what this is for me. I don’t… I wanna kiss you forever. And more. Much more. But not… I don’t—“ 

“Not while we’re high? Inebriated?” He says the word with a chuckle, referencing the way Robin will always use big words when she’s hammered. There’s a gentle sort of understanding on his face after the chuckle, though, and Eddie melts a little again. “Wanna do it right, hmm? Wanna treat me right and make sure I won’t regret it, angel?” 

Eddie whimpers at the sudden use of that nickname, because he’s not, but he does. He didn’t realise until Steve said it how scared he was — is — that Steve will regret this. The kiss. And anything that might follow. 

Not trusting his words right now, he can only nod, wondering if his eyes are as blown as Steve’s are. If Steve thinks he’s pretty, too. 

“God, you’re unreal,” Steve whispers, coming down again to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, brushing them down to the tip of his nose. He leans into those kisses, tips his chin up to chase it, but Steve pulls away again, his thumb tracing the pout he leaves behind on Eddie’s lips. 

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie grumbles, watching the delight on Steve’s face and deciding that he’s addicted now. Fuck the weed, fuck everything else. Steve can get him just as high. 

Along with that thought, reality works its tendrils into Eddie’s consciousness again, and he looks around the backyard around them — but there’s only him and Steve out here on the blanket, framed as they are by the fairy lights. 

“Hang on, where are the others?”

Steve huffs, his face shifting into an expression of fond amusement and gentle annoyance. “Last time I checked, Robin and Argyle were raiding the fridge, Nancy was lying on the living room carpet, marvelling at how soft it is, and Jonathan was just kinda spaced out on the couch with a bowl of chips. Don’t think they’re gonna come out here again in the next half hour or so.” 

“How convenient,” Eddie grins, wondering just how obvious the two of them had been all this time. Wondering, too, if it can really be that easy. If he can have this. If they can; after everything they went through.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, his body shifting so he’s half lying on top of Eddie now, positively vanishing any and all thoughts Eddie could have spared anyone else. He would worry about the hard-on he’s sporting, but it becomes obvious very quickly that Steve has the same predicament. It’s enticing, feeling him against his thigh like that, and Eddie has half a mind to do something about that, especially when Steve keeps shifting against him. “So. Do you wanna make out some more before we light the next baggie? It’s fine if not. We can just… I don’t know, cuddle or something.” 

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling on his hair a little bit to underline his deadpan. “What about I wanna kiss you forever was unclear?” 

“Hey, I said that first,” Steve retorts, digging his fingers into Eddie’s sides, making Eddie squeal and squirm right into his arms. “I also kissed you first,” he continues, sounding so damn smug about it. Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. “So I’m winning.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Steve all the way on top of him, his hands finding his way to those magnificent thighs, so firm underneath his grip. “‘M feeling pretty lucky right now.” 

“You think you’re so smooth,” Steve hums, dipping his head to hover just above his lips. 

“Is it working?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

They’re both laughing when their lips meet again, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and tasting and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other. Like they’ve already found it. 

Just like Steve’s hand finds his, weaving their fingers together and pressing him further into the grass. Eddie holds on tight, not ready to let him go anytime soon, and marvelling at how sensitive his hand has become. 

There is no urgency in the way Steve slowly begins to move against him, grinding their crotches together in slow, sensual motion like waves of the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Eddie meets him right where they both need it most, not once breaking their kiss even when it becomes open-mouthed panting and moaning that the other is trying to chase and swallow and keep only for himself. 

“You feel so good,” Steve rumbles, catching Eddie’s tongue between his teeth and pulling a high-pitched whimper from him. “So fucking good, Eddie.” 

“Don’t stop, Stevie, fuck.” He’s panting, his legs tingling with want and need and a weightlessness he’s never known before. “I know I said— We can stop. We can stop, we can, but— fuck, I’m close.” 

“Yeah?” Steve taunts, and oh, there’s purpose now in the the way he’s lifting his chest off Eddie, putting his weight behind the way he’s grinding into him. “You gonna come in your pants, baby? While the others are still inside? Means you’re gonna do this with me again later, right? Try again when we’re not high, hmm?”

“Yes,” Eddie rushes to say, working his fingers into Steve’s belt loops to keep him from stopping. “God, yes, I wanna—“ 

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, kissing the words right out of his brain, chasing his own pleasure, too. “God, you’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Eddie. Wanna come with me?” 

“Uh-huh,” Eddie can only nod and moan around all the words he wants to say, all those cheesy fucking words that leave him all the more vulnerable for how true they are. The tingly feeling builds in his legs, climbing to his core, and he wonders for a split second if Steve can really make him come like this — worries that somehow it’s not enough and that he’ll ruin this, that he’ll fuck it up and make it awkward between them because he doesn’t actually have any idea how his body works when someone else is taking the reins. 

But then Steve kisses him like that again, sucking his tongue into his mouth, holding his hand and groaning when Eddie moves in just the right way, and the sizzling pleasure finally finds its release. 

Eddie comes with a broken groan that Steve swallows greedily, panting into his mouth as, shortly after, his hips begin to stutter in their movements and he follows Eddie off the brink of this beautiful madness. Steve was always beautiful, there’s no question about that. But like this, face slack, kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips open around a silent moan as he grinds his trapped cock against Eddie’s, wrecked with aftershocks as his orgasm washes over him? He’s a fucking revelation that makes Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, over sensitive as he is  and yet so helpless against Steve’s aborted little motions. 

Getting high on weed doesn’t compare to getting high on Steve. It’s a high Eddie wants to chase forever, and he starts by wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him down onto his chest again, just to hold him. Steve purrs as Eddie’s hand finds its way into his hair, combing it away from the sweaty skin it sticks to. He cages him with his legs, too, tingly as they remain on either side of Steve’s body. 

It’s stupid, maybe, and a bit much, but he wants to keep Steve like this for a little longer. Putty in his hands, his weight on top of him grounding him after that high, and allowing them both to come down slowly. 

“Man,” Steve says after a while, just letting that word hang in the air as he regains conscious thought. 

Eddie hums, prompting him to say what’s on his mind even though he’s scared he won’t like what he’s about to hear. Still, it’s only fair to let Steve say what he wants. 

“I like you so much.” 

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for the but. For the regret. But none follows. That’s really all Steve’s saying; and soon Eddie can’t fight the wave of giddiness that overcomes him. 

He hugs Steve a little tighter, not entirely ready yet to look him in the eyes and face this new reality they’ve kind of just created, needing to be a little scared for just a bit longer. But still he laughs, because scared is no longer all he’s feeling. There’s so much more now. So much more. 

“I like you so much right back.” 

Now it’s Steve who hums, shifting to lift his head and look at Eddie, but Eddie closes his eyes before Steve can catch them. 

“Said it first again.” A hand lands on his cheek again, just above the ugly scars that Steve doesn’t seem afraid to touch. “So I win.” 

And Eddie is looking now. Dares. If only to drive his point home when he says, “God, you’re so fucking lame.” 

“Is it working?” Steve grins, and Eddie never stood a fucking chance. 

“Unfortunately.” 

@izzy2210 here you go darling hehehe 🤍

[dancingtotuyo]

High Infidelity Part IV

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature Explicit

Summary: Joel goes on a date.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: pining, jealousy, masturbation (male and female), voyeurism, self loathing, emotional affair, boundaries crossed

Notes: Things are getting a little spicy hehe. As usual, shout out to my beta readers @janaispunk and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (special shout out to Ang for the ✨spicy✨ idea 😜) and @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

Words: 4818

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

When Joel asks you to watch Sarah on Friday night, you don’t hesitate to say yes. Then, two minutes later you call him back and ask why. You’re surprised when he tells you he has a date. You should tease him, nag for details, but it’s none of your business. You find yourself wanting to know everything and nothing.

Joel is a grown-ass man. A single man at that, but it nags at you. Who is she? Where did he meet her? The two of you spend most of your free time together. In the six years you’ve known Joel, you can’t remember him ever mentioning a woman. 

His sole focus has always been Sarah. You suppose Tommy is on that list too, and Nathaniel. The two of you have matching worry lines thanks to your husband, and you guess by default you’re on the list too. If there’s one thing Joel Miller is committed to, it’s family.

Joel comes down in dark-wash jeans and a simple button-down. You didn’t know he owns jeans that nice, hugging his thighs, leather belt cinched at his waist. Your eyes rake over him perhaps a moment longer than needed. He hadn’t looked that nice at your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding. 

You raise an eyebrow letting out a low whistle as he enters the kitchen. “Lucky lady.” You take a bite from your apple slice. You point the paring knife at his jeans. “Those new?”

Joel knits his eyebrows together. “No. Why?”

“I’ve never seen them before.”

“You keep tabs on my closet?”

“We’ve basically lived together for 3 years. You wear the same two pairs of work jeans and five ratty T-shirts in rotation. I wouldn’t be surprised if your shirts have the days of the week labeled on the inside.”

“Church clothes.”

You scowl. “We don’t go to church.”

“Speak for yourself, Darlin.” He chuckles, checking his watch, the one you gave him for Father’s Day. You shoot him a suspicious look. “The kids out back?”

“Yup.” You say, taking another bite of apple. 

Joel’s fingertips brush across your shoulders as he passes by, the warmth of his cologne fills your nostrils as he rushes out. A pit settles deep in your stomach. You’re not sure where it stems from, but you don’t like it. You feel uneasy. 

The back door shuts just as a tap on the front door echoes through the house. You sigh, not really wanting to answer it. The pit grows and you still don’t understand where it’s coming from. Sarah and Nathaniel’s muted laughter filters through as you open the door. 

She’s pretty you think. Not someone you consider to be a show-stopper, but exactly what you would picture Joel going for. There’s something almost familiar about her. She looks taken aback when you open the door. You plaster your well-practiced Southern hospitality smile on your face. 

“I’m Joel’s sister-in-law. Just here to watch the kids.” You hold out your hand. Relief floods her features.  

“Tracy.” She takes your hand.

“Nice to meet you.” You can’t shake the nagging air of familiarity about her. It itches your brain, hanging on the tip of your tongue. Have you seen her at parent pick-up before? “Joel should be back soon. He’s just saying goodnight.”

Tracy nods, clutch held tight in both hands. Maybe it makes you an asshole, but you don’t invite her in, forcing her to stand at the threshold of an open door. She wears a solid dress. Her makeup is tasteful and leagues ahead of anything you’d ever be able to pull off, especially with a rowdy toddler. 

For a second you miss it. The freedom that is. You wouldn’t give up Nathaniel for the world. Hell, you wouldn’t give up Tommy for the world even with the shit you’re going through, but the ability to go out at a moment’s notice and let the alcohol loosen your inhibitions, you miss that. Tracy couldn’t be much older than you. Maybe a year or two. Did you go to high school together? Is that why she looks familiar? 

There’d been a couple Tracys in your small high school, but none that look like her. 

“You have a son, right?” Tracy says. You nod. She smiles as if proud of herself for remembering the fact. “Joel mentioned that you two do a lot together- with his brother being in prison.”

“Yeah, we do.” Your shoulders stiffen and your smile tightens. So this wasn’t their first date. They knew each other well enough for Joel to divulge your business like it was front-page news. Though, you suppose it had made the paper. 

“Well, I got them both riled up for ya,” Joel says, walking through the house. He plays with the cuffs of his shirt before looking up. He seems startled to find the door wide open and Tracy on the other side. “Oh- Hi.”

“Hi,” Tracy laughs.

He looks between the two of you like he’s seen a ghost. You cross your arms, a faint smirk playing across your lips. “Just remember payback’s a bitch.”

“Yeah... I don’t doubt it.” Joel almost mutters it under his breath. He joins Tracy on the other side of the threshold, pressing a distracted kiss to her cheek. “You ready to go?”

You catch the weirdness of Joel’s demeanor, familiar with all of his tendencies by now. You raise an eyebrow in question, but Joel won’t look you in the eye. His arm wraps around Tracy’s waist, pushing her toward his pickup. 

“Make yourself at home.” Joel throws his hand up in a wave despite his back being turned to you. 

“Always do!” You call back. 

You watch them until the truck is out of the driveway, confusion written across your face as you process the odd interaction. Why was Joel acting so weird- like you weren’t supposed to meet the mysterious lady he’d obviously been out with more than once, and why hadn’t he told you yet? And why did she look so damn familiar?

The moment the door clicks behind you, it hits. You freeze. The familiarity in her face is one you see every time you look in the mirror. She’s not your twin by any means, but Tracy could be your cousin, your sister even. Something you can’t place settles in your gut.

The kids are finally asleep. The TV drones on, but you don’t hear a sound of it. The whole interaction plays on repeat in your mind. You chew on your thumbnail. You can’t stop thinking about them, where they are, and what they might be doing. 

You glance down at your watch. 10:30. You don’t typically go to bed this early, and you’re not tired, but you can’t get it off your mind. Sleep is your only option for relief. 

Checking on the kids, you slip into Joel’s room. You’ve stayed in here more times than you can count as Joel always insists you stay in his bed. It’s automatic how you pull one of his shirts from the drawer. Not one of his five shitty work shirts but one of the well-worn ones he wears on the weekend after he showers. They’re soft. They smell like him, sawdust and old spice, not the cologne you caught on him this evening. You slip under the cool sheets, stretching out your bare legs and burying your face in his pillow. You’re surrounded by him here. 

You thought it would turn off the thoughts, silence your mind, but it doesn’t. If anything they ramp up. You know there’s no way Joel’s had her here. He wouldn’t bring a strange woman into his home, Sarah’s home, that quickly. No, it’s all him in here… and you. 

It’s just after eleven. You’re not asleep. Joel’s not home and your mind is running through the memories as it often does when you lay alone. You’ve spent more nights alone than with someone since you got married. You should be used to it, but you’re not. There should be someone next to you right now. 

Tossing and turning, an idea sparks in your mind. There’s one surefire way to get yourself to sleep. The mere thought sets desire through your veins. Goosebumps prickle your flesh. Your nipples perk up under Joel’s soft shirt. It’s been a while since you’ve touched yourself. 

Kicking the blankets off of you, you let your fingers skim over your bare thighs, moving them upward until your shirt is tucked under your breasts. Joel’s shirt. It has you pausing. This crosses so many lines. You can’t do this here, in your brother-in-law’s bed, in Joel’s bed where it smells like him. Where it feels like him. 

Your cunt clenches and a soft groan escaped from your lips. You’ve barely touched yourself, not enough for that response. Your heart rate refuses to calm down, the flame of desire already spreading from deep in your stomach. You shouldn’t do this, not here, but your fingers trace up and over your sternum again, slipping under Joel’s shirt. You brush your thumb over the hardened buds. You’ll change the sheets tomorrow. He’ll never know. 

A soft moan tumbles over your lips. Your body moves of its own volition, pressing into your touch. Your hands move down and across your skin. You run them over your favorite places to be touched, everywhere except where you want to be touched the most. You avoid it, waiting until your panties start to cling to you, excess moisture soaking into them. A finger runs over the seam of your lower lips. Another moan falls from your mouth, hips bucking up. 

You push down your panties, flinging them off once they hit your ankles. Your fingers slip between your folds. You’re slick, spreading it up and down, over and around your clit as need builds in your body. Another moan threatens to fall from your mouth, each one growing in volume. You bite down on the collar of Joel’s shirt. Another whiff of him overtakes you. Your cunt clenches as you finally slip a finger in and then a second. 

The house is dark when Joel gets back. He feels like a dick. He’d been distracted the whole time. He saw it the moment he spotted the two of you together- the resemblance. He felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner, and even more when he couldn’t stop thinking about you the whole night. There’s nothing wrong with Tracy. She’s perfectly nice, but the bubble has popped. She’s not you. He won’t be seeing her again.

It doesn’t help that he knew he’d come home to a dark house. He knows you’re asleep in his bed right now in one of his shirts, and Lord help him, it kept him distracted all night. 

He’s quiet as he walks up the stairs so as to not wake you or the kids. He stares at his bedroom door, taunting him. You’re in there and he knows what you feel like sound asleep in his arms. You haven’t talked that night. In fact, you’ve acted like it never happened and he’s followed suit. He wonders if he could slip behind you now. If you would let him hold you. 

He lets out a long sigh, fighting with himself. He needs to slip in, grab a pair of sweats, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to pull himself out. He can sleep in his boxers, maybe find some sweats in the laundry. His hand drops from the door. 

He’s going to walk away. He’s not going to cross that line again. That’s his brother’s wife. The woman Tommy told him to take care of. He has to stop this. He can’t- and then he hears it. Soft and quiet at first. A soft gasp that hitches, like it got caught on something. 

He freezes. It’s probably nothing, a dream, his imagination. Then he hears it again, this time pitched lower, like it comes from a deeper place. He can’t discount that one. As much as his brain screams at him to go, run, his feet stay anchored to the floor. He’s desperate to hear it again, and he’s rewarded with another moan. 

They’re intentional. You’re doing that to yourself in his bed. He bites his lip, hand falling to the door frame to stabilize him. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be envisioning you spread out on his bed, toes curling against his sheets. The blood rushes straight to his cock and Joel knows he’s about to cross a line he can’t come back from. 

Another moan comes out of the room. He flips open the button of his jeans, hand slipping beneath the waistband stroking his already hard cock. Maybe it makes him a creep, but he’s never been more grateful for the thin walls in the house. 

Your noises of pleasure grow. Joel bites back his own, nails digging into the door frame. Precum leaks from the tip of his dick. He catches the way your moans grow more desperate as you take yourself closer. He works himself to the edge with you, wanting to hold off until you’re there. 

You’re so close to falling over the edge. Your fingers glide over your clit with ease, soaked with your slick. You’ve been pushing the images away the whole time, trying not to go there, but the closer you pull yourself to bliss, the harder it is to keep them at bay. Your eyes drift shut as you lean into the feeling, willing yourself over the edge. They flash in your mind, pictures of him over you, calloused hands running over your bare body, his deep baritone in your ear as he pulls you apart. The tension between your thighs breaks free. You don’t realize how loud you cry out, ears ringing with pleasure as his name effortlessly rolls off your lips. 

You lay there, still, chest heaving. Not Tommy’s name. Joel’s. 

Before you have time to comprehend what just happened, it breaks through the silence. A soft, bitten back moan on the other side of the door in a tone you can only recognize as his and the faint whispers of your name. Your eyes widen. Had he…? 

Your brain races with the possibilities as you lay bare, tshirt pushed above your breasts. He could walk in. You hadn’t locked the door. You could open the door to him, take his hand, invite him into his own bed. 

You cringe. When did you become this person? The one who lusts after another man while married? As much as you’re ashamed, you fight against the temptation. You want to give in. You want to be touched and desired again. You’d seen it in Joel’s eyes that night at the beach. He would give you what you needed. Before you can make a decision, you hear the steps creak. He’s walked away. 

You let out a deep breath, not sure if you’re disappointed or relieved. You roll over, burying your  head in Joel pillow, wrapping yourself in his comforter, cunt still slick and dripping. 

Lucky for Joel, he’s able to find clean sweats in the dryer and then starts the washer with his jeans and boxers, washing away all evidence of his sins. 

He settles on the couch with just the decorative pillow and throw blanket. It’s hot anyway so the blanket is quickly kicked to his feet. He can’t put it out of his mind. Any of it. You. 

He tries not to think about the sounds you made in his bed, the things you did. He tries not to think about you asleep in his arms, but with all things, the more you try not to think about them, the more you do. 

Joel has accepted that he’s not a good man. His intentions with you are no longer pure, but self seeking. Yes, he cares for you and your well being, but he wants you. He needs you near him. He needs you to realize he’s been here through it all. That Tommy has done nothing to be worthy of you. Joel has spent more of your marriage being your husband than Tommy has. 

He clenches his fists. Anger surges through him. Joel doesn’t care if it makes him a bad person. If he had a way to go and turn back time, he would. He’d find a way to meet you before Tommy did. He would make you his. He would save you from the heartache of being Tommy’s wife. You would be his Mrs. Miller. 

Joel wishes he’d kissed you at the beach. He wanted to. God knows how badly he’d wanted to. It took every last ounce of self control not to. His stores are depleted. Between that and tonight, Joel has no more restraint to offer this situation. If you ever give him the chance again, he won’t hold back. He doesn’t care that you’re married to his brother. You deserve better. You deserve the world. Joel believes he can give it to you. 

You both sleep better than you have in weeks. 

“I never understood back to school nights,” Joel grumbles, stuffing a store bought chocolate chip cookie in his mouth and washing it down with cheap faculty room coffee. “Want some?”

“You know I don’t drink caffeine after two.” 

Joel shrugs, taking another sip. “It’s not that good anyway.” 

You roll your eyes. “What about back to school nights makes you grumpy? It’s a chance for Sarah to see where she’ll spend most of her time for the next nine months.”

“Then where is she?” Joel raises an eyebrow. “Out on the playground because it only takes 5 seconds to see the classroom and she’d rather play with her friends.”

“You’re a grump.”

“Yeah, a grump who’d rather be watching the game.” 

You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder. “Have you at least talked to her teacher yet?”

He grimaces. “Haven’t worked up the courage yet.”

It isn’t that Joel doesn’t want to know the person responsible for educating his child. It’s the fact that Sarah has a knack for ending up with the young, single teachers as her educators, ones who seem very interested in her father as more than a parent. He’d been granted reprieve last year, but you’d caught the visible shudder in his frame the moment he’d laid eyes on Sarah’s teacher for the year, young and not a ring on her left hand in sight. 

“Stop judging a book by its cover. You’re a grown up.”

“Fine.” He sets down his coffee with determination. “Let’s go.” His hand finds your waist as he propels you both toward the teacher. 

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows knit together. You have a sneaking suspicion you know what he’s playing at. 

“We’re going to meet Sarah’s teacher.” He shrugs, but a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Mrs. Miller.”

Your stomach does little flips. You’ve been mistaken for his Mrs. Miller more times than you can count at this point. You’ve attended Sarah’s parent teacher conferences when Joel got held up at a job sight, letting the teachers assume whatever they wanted. You are Mrs. Miller after all. But you’ve never done anything like this, not alongside him.  

He introduces himself and you to Miss Holly as he tugs you in closer to his right side. Your left arm instinctively wraps around his middle and you see the moment she watches the glint of your engagement and wedding ring under the fluorescent lights. 

It’s hardly the first time you’ve been mistaken for Joel Miller’s wife, but it is the first time he’s played into the assumption on purpose, with confidence. It’s the first time you let your mind forget it’s not true, even for just a few seconds, playing a part that doesn’t feel like playing at all. Joel lets his southern charm show now, protected by the guise of you as his bride. Before you know it, it feels too natural. Joel’s hand falls a bit, grasping your hip, tugging you closer like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You think maybe it is.  

Joel leads the conversation. You’re too caught up in the feel of his hand on your hip and the breathing of his chest under your palm. The night you almost kissed, the night you crawled into his bed and he held you through some of the best sleep you’ve gotten in years flashes in your mind. You think back to just last week, his name on your lips, that strangled, soft moan, and your own name you swear you heard. 

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Miller,” Sarah’s teacher says, pulling you from your thoughts. 

Joel offers his own goodbyes and you echo them, still fighting the haze inside your own mind. You wonder if there’s a world where this is your life, one where you and Joel aren’t playing make believe. One where you crawl in bed beside him every night instead of your empty bed. It’s an awful thought. Your husband gets released from prison in a few weeks. These thoughts will be gone by then. They have to be.

It was one night of indiscretion, two at the most, and you never actually did anything. You didn’t know Joel was on the other side of that door. Tommy doesn’t need to know. By his own admission, he’s actually crossed those boundaries. He’s broken your wedding vows. You glance at Joel’s profile as he leads you out of the classroom, a proud smirk on his face. The bastard enjoyed that way too much. 

When you make it to the hall, his fingers lace through yours. Is he forgetting too? Giving himself a moment to linger in the unspoken what ifs that seem to crowd around you these days. 

He drops your hand once you’re outside in view of the playground. He waves Sarah over, but you stay a couple steps behind, deep in thought until someone calls your name. Your head snaps in their direction. Julia and Micky Hall stand before you. Your eyes widen in recognition. Micky was one of Tommy’s Army buddies. They’d moved to Dallas after the group came back from their deployment. 

“Hi,” the words fall from your mouth in shock. “I didn’t know y’all were back in Austin.” Your feet carry you toward the couple. 

“Just moved back last month,” Julia says as you move to hug her and then Micky. “We’ve been meaning to call.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just good to see you both.” The smile across your face is genuine as you talk to your friends. You’d grown apart since their move. Other than Joel, Julia had been your closest friend during Tommy’s deployment. “How have you been? The boys?”

“Starting first grade,” Julia grins, pointing to her twin boys on the playground.

Your eyes catch them, running around. “They’ve grown so much.”

“How’s Nathaniel?” Julia asks.

“Good, growing like a weed as I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“Too familiar,” Julia laughs. 

“Nathaniel isn’t going into Kindergarten, is he?” Micky asks.

“Next year. I came for Sarah’s back to school night. Joel’s daughter.” You point to where Sarah is just rushing over to her father. You feel the ghost of Joel’s touch when you utter his name. “We’ve been helping each other out a lot with everything.”

The couple nods, an awkward silence forming between you as if they don’t want to address the elephant in the room. The heat has let up a little bit as the sun begins to dip behind the trees. 

“I’ve written to Tommy a couple of times,” Micky says, hands tucked into his front pockets. “Haven’t heard back much.”

You force a nod, feeling the tension grow in your limbs. “I haven’t been able to get much from him.” 

You catch the way both their eyes widen. They were there the night you and Tommy met. They’d seen the way you fell, both of you. How inseparable your bond is, or was. 

“Shit,” Micky says, running a hand over his face. “How are you holding up?”

“Not sure I am most days. Joel’s been a big help to us.” It feels like you’re concealing the whole truth. Joel’s been the crutch keeping you going most days. Julia’s brow furrows with concern.

Micky nods. “I’d like to go see him if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Maybe you can get through to him.”

“And we should get the kids together,” Julia adds. “Catch up ourselves.”

“That would be nice,” you smile at her as you catch Joel and Sarah waiting by the truck, laughing about something. “I should go, but you should call. Number’s still the same.”

“I’ll use it.” Julia smiles as you wave at both of them before crossing the parking lot with a weird feeling in your gut.  

Seeing Julia and Micky was nice. It brought back a lot of good memories. The four of you. It’s another reminder of how lonely the last years have been. How much you’ve depended on Joel. How much he’s been there. 

As you join Joel and Sarah at the truck, Sarah catches you up on all her friend’s summer vacations and updates, mouth moving a million miles a minute. She doesn’t stop as you climb in or for the click of your seat belt. You stay quiet, watching Austin wiz by out the passenger side window. 

When Joel pulls into your driveway, you let out a sigh staring at the door. He leans over the center console, keeping his voice low.  “You okay, Darlin? You’ve been quiet since we left.”

“Just tired. I’ll see y’all tomorrow.” You fling the door of the pick up open. 

“Darlin?”

You bristle, smoothing out your skirt as you turn to face him. His brows knit together. “I’m fine, Joel.”

“You’re coming over tomorrow, right Aunt Bonnie?”

“Of course, Sarah Bear.” You blow her a kiss, shutting the door before Joel can protest. He makes sure you’re inside before pulling out of the driveway. 

Nathaniel is already asleep thanks to an afternoon at the playground and the magic your sitter works. You pay her extra tonight. You’ve never been more thankful to come home to a sleeping child, too distracted by the run in with your friends and Joel’s hot hands on you, the way he held you as if to tell the world to back off, you’re his. 

You pull the bottle of Tequila out of the cabinet. You’re tempted to pull straight from the bottle but you pour a finger or so into a glass instead. Your mother raised you better than that. She also raised you better than to pine after your brother in law. 

You throw back the whole glass. The cheap liquor burns your throat. You ran out of the good stuff last week with Joel and hadn’t made it to the liquor store yet. Joel had drunk you under the table, your tolerance not what it used to be. Not that you had ever been able to keep up with him. You fill the glass with another finger and toss it back. You can’t think about Joel. Can’t think about the way your wedding bands burn against your skin as if they are punishing you for tonight, for last week, for Father’s Day and for everything else. 

You pour more tequila into the cup, but you add ice and margarita mixer this time, knowing the first two shots will catch up to you soon enough. You fall onto the couch with a sigh. Three weeks. Just three weeks and Tommy will be back. You won’t see Joel everyday. Your husband will take care of you, satisfy you. That’s all this is. The deprivation of the last two and a half years. You can make it three more weeks. 

You try to reason it away. It makes sense. You and Joel have been so close in all this. He’s been your partner, not your husband, but partner. He’s an attractive man, thoughts were bound to pop up, lines were bound to get blurry, but all will correct itself when Tommy’s home. Yes, it all makes perfect sense. 

You take a sip of the margarita. Condensation trickles down your hand and ice rattles in the glass. Even as the numbness of the tequila shots begins to take over your body, the reassurances feel weak. 

Even if you can’t admit it, something has shifted. You and Joel are playing with fire. 

Three more weeks you push. Tommy will be home. You’ll have Your Tommy back. 

But you can’t erase the last two and a half years. Tonight, with the ghost of his hands on your body, you remember all the ways Joel has been there for you over these past years, filling in the gaping caverns Tommy left.   

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love

@justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal @mellymbee @sarahhxx03 @lizzie-cakes @sixhours

@duckybird101 @anoverwhelmingdin @nervoushottee @caitlynsixxx @kaykay0315 @stevie75

@millercontracting @cals-laundry @jessthebaker @noisynightmarepoetry @vickie5446 @mewantpeepaw @tulips2715 @leggtostandon

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @lotusbxtch @ravenn-darkholme

[tennant-the-tigger]

Candid Photos: 'Party's Proof'

The party is sick of their lovey-dovey, touchy-feely behavior and wishes them to just get together already. So the kids come up with a plan. Picture proof to show that they are meant to be. After one year of collecting 'the proof', the kids sat Steve and Robin down for an hour-long intervention/presentation. By the end of it, Steve and Robin just looked at each other, both with their eyebrows raised high. Then after a minute of silence, they burst into uncontrollable laughter, leaning against each other.

For the Spring Spicy Six Fanwork Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair - prompt for this one was “Candid Photo”

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: How will you celebrate your birthday? 🎂💓

It's my birthday month and I'm feeling festive so let's celebrate together!

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

It's Ya Birthday by Fly Boi Keno

Come Get Her by Rae Sremmurd (Angel number 333 is significant since the song is 3:33)

Twist & Turn by Popcaan ft. Drake & PARTYNEXTDOOR

Control, Gifts, Money, The Empress, Two of Pentacles, & The Fool

For your birthday you plan to do things your way! And if people can't get behind it, there's the door. "My highway or the highway!" You could have people follow a certain theme for your birthday. You will look very beautiful and stunning for your birthday, I can also sense a glow up happening for you! You could plan mostly how your birthday will go and will feel quite satisfied when everything falls into place. You will be strict when it comes to planning your birthday and will make sure everyone follows the rules, but when the day finally comes - you will have such a blast! I'm seeing overall abundance and fun adventures coming for you in this age. You will receieve plenty of gifts and money as well 🤑. You could possibly be a Taurus or Libra sign, pile 1.

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Birthday by Anne Marie

Eternal Sunshine by Jhené Aiko

All My Friends by Snakehips ft. Tinashe & Chance the Rapper

Ice Queen, Long Distance, Travel, Nine of Wands, The World, & The High Priestess

I see that you have been through a lot this year, pile 2! Or have been through a lot in general. I almost feel like this bittersweet energy. You are appreciative of the lessons you've learned in life but also are mourning a part of yourself that's from the past. You might be moving on from something that you had to walk away and that was very difficult to do, whether it was a relationship, job, etc. With each story that ends, a new story beginnings. I actually see more opportunities coming into your life! You could possibly a water sign (Cancer, Pisces, or Scorpio). There is something significant about water here, the river or ocean specifically. I see for your birthday you will be celebrating near the water. You could travel overseas and vacation on the islands, or you could take a trip to the beach. I'm seeing that you will celebrating your birthday with a few close friends and family members. Your intuition could increase more during your birthday. You will notice many signs from the universe and you could possibly have an epiphany about your life purpose. You will mature gracefully in spirit.

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Live Your Best Life by Joseline Hernadez

Post To Be by Omarion ft. Chris Brown & Jhené Aiko

Block List by Rico Nasty

Young Male, Dating, Beauty Queen, Two of Wands, Queen of Cups, & Four of Cups

Your birthday is gonna be pretty spicy, pile 3 😳! I'm seeing for your birthday you could have a date with someone you have been talking to or will meet from a dating app. I'm getting mostly hook up vibes but it will be fun and sexy 😋! You are looking to fulfill yourself sexually. I believe you are someone who has a specific fantasy and wish to bring it into reality. I don't see you and this person staying together, you might even block them afterwards 😭 (crazy 💀). You have high standards and know your worth, so you refuse to settle for less. You know you are beautiful and deserving of the best. This pile is all about getting their shrimp and lobster 😝

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

Birthday by Selena Gomez

Fergalicious by Fergie

Unconditional by Kehlani

Children, True Gem, Destiny, Two of Cups, Six of Wands, & Ace of Pentacles

I see self love playing a big factor for you on your birthday. You could do something that will honor your inner child specifically. You could be realizing how special you are, pile 4! There is an outpour of unconditional love towards yourself and the past versions of you. Self love, acceptance, and confidence is what you will be celebrating for your birthday! I see for this age you will be turning you will implement your dreams and goals into reality. Pursuing the destiny you have created for yourself. Well done!

Pile 5:

Shufflemancy -

Piñata by City Girls

Truffle Butter by Nicki Minaj ft. Drake & Lil Wayne

Sauced Up by Fifth Harmony

Passion, Open Relationship, Triangle, Ace of Cups, Three of Cups, & Justice

For your birthday, I see things actually getting pretty heated. There is some sort of tension between you and someone, whether it's sexual or aggravation, possibly even both. You could go out with your friends to a club to celebrate your birthday. I'm seeing drinking and alcohol, bottles with sparklers. I'm seeing also a scenario where your friends could fight for your attention. I'm getting like "no I'm their best friend!" "No I am!" Kind of energy. This could also be people who like you romantically. Everyone seems to want your attention on your birthday lol! You will have to be fair and make sure to keep everyone in consideration. You could even get people party favors for attending your birthday party or coming to the club to celebrate. You may pay for other people's drinks as a way to keep everyone happy or keep the party going!

Pile 6:

Shufflemancy -

Ratchet Happy Birthday by Drake

Roses by Abra

Blkswn by Smino

Young Female, Dating Queen, Spiritual Growth, The Devil, Eight of Cups, & Queen of Swords

For your birthday, I see you walking away from whatever doesn't serve you, pile 6. You will realize something isn't working out for you and is actually hindering your personal growth. I'm seeing that this actually had been quite toxic for you or had negative attributes. Whether it was a relationship, job, or past vices/addictions. You will be moving on from this phase and will start to realize your worth. You could choose to focus on "dating" yourself, meaning to focus on being alone for a while to get know who you truly are and what you would like to accomplish in life. I'm seeing spiritual growth for you in this age and you will learn to set boundaries. People could also praise you for overcoming these hardships and will commend you for your strong character. People could give you flowers or letters for your birthday specifically, or something that is a token of their appreciation.

[drunk-on-dk]

Girls Talk Boys | Yoon Jeonghan (m)

✦pairing: roommate!Jeonghan x afab reader

✦genre: fluff, some smut (minor DNI)

✦warnings: smut (minors DNI), unprotected sex (pls use protection pls), fingering, handjob, TEASING, use of the nickname angel, maybe a bit of rough sex, some spanking, kind of pwp with most of the plot leading into the spicy scenes.

✦wc: ~4.6k

✦summary: Jeonghan overhears what you talk about with your friends, and your constant teasing of each other becomes all too much to handle.

✦ AN: Hi all, back with another fic that I've been working on! Still probably deserves some more proofreading as usual, but I hope you all enjoy it! Girls Talk Boys by 5SOS was on repeat for this one.

Living with Yoon Jeonghan was surprisingly comfortable, you coexisted well enough due to both of you being relatively laid back. Your mutual friend, Joshua, had introduced you two about six months ago, hearing that you both were on the hunt for a roommate, and he claimed neither of you would be able to find a better roommate than each other. Joshua was correct in that assumption, as living with Jeonghan proved to be simple, relaxed, and easy enough since you were both homebodies. Still, there was some excitement in the apartment. Even though you both were soft-hearted, there was a mischievous atmosphere in your household, which kept things exciting throughout most weekdays.

Most nights in your apartment either consisted of you two enjoying each other’s presence in silence, working on your own little projects and hobbies, or spending the night sipping on cheap red-wine, playing card games, and laughing obnoxiously whenever you would somehow out-cheat the cheater himself. Some nights you’d even assist Jeonghan with his latest and absolutely, ridiculously complex Lego set. You’d refrain from complaining, not understanding how he can find joy in such a tedious project, but you knew it made him happy, so you’d help anyways when he’d ask you to organize the pieces for him.

These nights were how you got to know Jeonghan the best, observing his little quirks, getting to know what made him tick, and coming to understand he really did care too much sometimes for his own good. You would find yourself shocked at the way you’d watch Jeonghan smash the fridge door shut in anger, pitching a fit over the ice machine that has broken down for the 3rd time this week, only to then walk over to you with a smile on his face to ask what you’d like to drink. Staring back at him with bug-eyes, you’d simply mutter out that you’d like some water in response, and he’d come skipping back with a full glass for you, plopping right back down to resume working on his Lego set.

Some nights, mostly on occasions that you and Jeonghan had a long day at work, you’d spend the time together watching a movie with his head rested in your lap. You’d find yourself running your hands through his locks, ever so often flickering your attention down to him and admiring his natural beauty. Sometimes your mind would go haywire, intrusive thoughts taking over and thinking up what-if scenarios. What-if you were to lean down ever so slightly and plant a kiss on his soft lips? What-if you were to suddenly confess all the dirty thoughts that run through your mind when his t-shirt rises a bit too high when he stretches? What-if you were to confess you could see him being someone you’d like to introduce as more than a roommate to your parents? You’d have to shake yourself out of the thousands of thoughts running through your head, returning your focus on the movie playing on the screen ahead of you.

Little did you know, Jeonghan would find himself staring up at you as well with endearing, wandering eyes. He couldn’t believe Joshua had set him up with a roommate like you. You seemed so untouchable to him, better than he’d ever be, and he was thankful you had come into his life. Of course, he’d also curse Joshua for not giving him a heads-up on your appearance, shocked by your beauty the day he first met you. Still to this day he finds himself blushing when you exit the shared bathroom, bathrobe wrapped around your frame as you scurry back to your room.

Jeonghan would also find himself shuddering as your fingers would rake through his hair during movie night. Sometimes if you’d drop your hand a little bit too low towards his neck and shoulders, he’d find himself shifting from your touch, suppressing the thoughts that raced through his mind. Only if your hands would continue moving a bit lower, what would that entail?

He'd end up teasing you for it of course, as it was the only way he could escape his restless mind. “Ya! Watch your hands, your cold little fingers are slipping into my collar,” he’d scold you, playfully whacking your hand away.

However, you didn’t always pick up on his teasing. A red hue immediately colored your face as you ripped your hand away from Jeonghan’s hot skin. “I’m sorry, Hannie, got a little too into the movie, I guess,” you’d chuckle out, but really your hand did begin to wander subconsciously, tracing his soft skin, which was embarrassing even though only you knew. 

Your innocent demeanor drove him crazy sometimes, especially the way your lips would pout when you’d use his nickname. This often led to him pleasuring himself late at night after the movie, the image of you in your little sleepshirt sauntering back to your room burnt into his mind. He just wished he could march over to your room, rip that shirt right off you, and teach you a lesson for teasing him all night long, even if it wasn’t intentional. That fantasy was enough to push him over the edge most nights, but it was proving to get harder and harder, craving the real thing instead.

On the contrary, Jeonghan knew you weren’t so innocent, knowing you were confident and quite the flirt. Sometimes, you had different escapades return with you from your occasional nights out with your friends. He wasn’t shocked when he’d find your black mini dress the night from before discarded in the middle of the hallway. A blush shading your cheeks the next morning as you’d toss the garment into your room before heading to the kitchen for breakfast. He’d tease you incessantly for the next couple of days, rightfully earning a harmless slap to the arm each time he brought it up.

One night specifically, Jeonghan found himself eavesdropping as you were on a group call with your friends in your bedroom. Absolutely, positively on accident, as Jeonghan would like to claim, he’d never intrude and purposely eavesdrop on your conversations. He’d argue that the thin walls did not do a great job at filtering out sound, and, clearly, he couldn’t help but overhear when you had the sound turned up so loud. Of course, his interest was piqued when he heard his name come from one of the voices on your phone.

“Hey, Y/N, could you set me up with that roommate of yours, Jeonghan is it?” He heard a high-pitched voice ask, a chorus of laughter coming from the line.

He could hear another voice pipe in, “me too? Unless you’re interested yourself, Y/N, huh?” The laughter turned into ooo’s and ahh’s, and he could hear you struggling to quiet them down, trying to get a word in yourself.

Jeonghan ended up with an ear pressed against the wall, his futile attempt to convince himself not to listen in on your conversation failing. He wanted to hear what you had to say, but you spoke so quietly in comparison to the sound blaring from your phone that he couldn’t make out what you said initially.

However, Jeonghan felt like he hit the lottery upon hearing what seemed like another confession. He could barely make out the last sentence you muttered before the noise on the other end picked up again.

“Jeonghan’s a little shit, but I’d fold if he’d ever ask me to.”

He could hear you giggling, the sweet tune blending in with your friends’ laughter as they seemed to encourage your confession. Jeonghan could just imagine the blush that adorned your cheeks, probably trying to hide your embarrassment from your friends. He had to hold himself back from slamming his hand against the wall, the sudden desire to make your wish come true consuming him. Your words went straight to his cock, and he tried his best to not let that simple sentence lead him over to your room and fuck you silly.

Luckily for you, it seemed like your friends no longer had time to pry, as the group call came to an end due to Ubers starting to arrive. Suddenly, your room seemed all too silent, the only thing he could make out was the clicking of your heels on the wooden floor. The sound became louder and louder, only realizing you had walked over to his room when he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

Scrambling from his spot against the wall, he runs over to his door, “coming!” He must have swung the door open with an unusual amount of force, heavily breathing due to sprinting across the room. You stood there looking like a deer in headlights even though you were the one who just knocked.

You stood there, the juxtaposition of sexiness and innocence that suited you so well, your doe-like eyes contrasting the little black dress and stilettos. You noticed the way Jeonghan’s eyes raked up and down your body, a shaky hand running through his hair as he caught his breath. It made you nervous, not used to Jeonghan’s eying you so closely, a darkness in them that you weren’t necessarily familiar with, and it made your heart race in your chest.

“You doing okay, Hannie?” You’d question, concerned by the way his chest rises and falls, unsure what is actually up with him.

“Just peachy,” he’d smile, hand gripping the door frame as he leaned closer towards you. He notices the way you slightly lean back, your cheeks turning a pinkish color as his face got closer to yours. He could smell the warm vanilla scent of your perfume, the one that oddly comforted him every time you walked past him. However, this time it only drove him more feral, cursing you for being such a tease all the time without even knowing it. “Heard you’re going out with the girls, where are you headed tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting them out at Bar Ledo tonight, but I haven’t had anything to drink yet,” you start off, your blush fading away as a small smirk appears on your face when you ask Jeonghan your next question. “I thought that maybe you’d want to have a glass of wine together before I leave? Maybe let me kick your ass at a game of Uno? That is if you don’t have any plans.”

Jeonghan indeed didn’t have any plan. His only plans with the boys falling through tonight due to Seungcheol’s unfortunate case of food poisoning and Joshua somehow scoring a date with a person he met at a café earlier today. The night seemed kind of hopeless for Jeonghan until now.

“You’re on, don’t forget who the reigning champion of Uno this past week is,” Jeonghan brushes past you, mischievous smile on his face as he heads to the kitchen to pop the cork on one of your favorite wines. He chuckles quietly to himself when he hears a little celebratory whoop from you as you scurry to go grab the Uno cards. You’re quick to return, the Uno set being easily accessible as it’s a game night favorite of yours.

Trying your best to help Jeonghan out, you reach for the wine glasses up at the top of the cabinet. Unfortunately, you still aren’t tall enough to reach them even with your heels, a small grunt escaping your lips as strain to reach the glasses.

Tsking from behind you, Jeonghan approaches you with one hand placed on the small of your back, the other reaching up to grab the wine glasses for you. He couldn’t stop his wandering hands, not at the way your dress rode up as you stretched upwards. The heat that radiates from his body is enough to send warmth headed straight towards your lower stomach. “Still too short I see, what would you ever do without me?”

His hot breath on your neck is enough to make you turn to face him, hoping he’d step away, but he doesn’t at all. It makes your body temperature rise at an alarming rate. Rather, he keeps his body pressed against yours, tapping your nose with his pointer finger. You have to shove him away, grabbing one glass out of his hand and making your way to the opened bottle of wine.

You’re rambling, hoping to suppress the fire burning inside of you, “I’d actually be just fine, contrary to popular opinion, thank you very much. In fact, the only thing stopping me is that I’m still financially recovering from university, but, you know, sooner or later that all will be resolved. Otherwise, I’m perfectly capable.” Your shaky hands give you away though, pouring your glass of wine unsteadily before he holds his out, an unspoken request to pour him a glass. You pray he doesn’t realize the way you tremble, but the wine bottle almost slips out of your hand, thankfully, Jeonghan is quick-thinking to catch it.

He sends you a puzzled look, a melodious chuckle escaping his lips, one that mocks you and teases you in an unbearable way, “you sure about that?”

“Very,” you huff, deciding to sit down on the barstool opposite of where he stands at the kitchen island. You need distance, and you need a distraction ASAP. “Now, let’s play some Uno.”

You two play Uno, and as per usual, Jeonghan somehow wins multiple rounds. It’s absolutely infuriating at this point. You find yourself leaning over the counter, accusatory finger pointed at him, feeling a little fired up from the glass of wine and the constant teasing after each loss. “Admit it, you’re cheating! I don’t know how you can even cheat at Uno, but I know you are.”

He's chuckling, hands up at both sides of his head as if to plead his innocence. He couldn’t believe you were so fired up, usually after you’d lose a couple of games you’d give up with a huff and ask to play a different game. He found it unreasonably sexy, the way you were bent over the counter yelling at him, and he could ever so slightly peek down at your cleavage.

He refrained, staying silent as you continued to bark accusatory statements at him. Shocked when you hopped down from your barstool and travelled over to his side again. You were basically pressed against him, tiny hands grabbing at his pockets, “I know you have wild cards and draw four cards stashed in those pockets, Jeonghan.”

You’ve worked him up beyond belief at his point, the way your hands grab at him drove him to his breaking point. Gasping when Jeonghan grabs your wrists, he spins you around to press you flat against the counter. He has a strong grip on your wrists, holding them against your back as he leans over to whisper into your ear, “you better watch your hands, Y/N. I can only take so much teasing myself.”

His hot breath sends shivers down your spine once again, involuntarily making you push your ass back into him. This didn’t help your case at all, a harsh slap coming down onto your ass cheek as he lets out a growl. “What did I say about only taking so much teasing?”

You feel wetness begin to pool in your panties as he brings another harsh slap down to the same spot. You’re a whining mess already, begging Jeonghan to do something, anything. The only thing that snaps you back into reality is the vibration of your phone on the counter. Your group message was blowing up; notifications that the girls were arriving to the bar, finally meeting up, and wondering where you were currently.

You’d attempt to reach for your phone if Jeonghan still didn’t have your arms tightly held against your back. Honestly though, you couldn’t care less about being late to your plans right now, not when you could feel Jeonghan’s erection pressing into your ass, hot hand palming your burning cheek.

You can sense the smirk on his face when he asks, “what do you talk about with your girls? Do you talk about me?”

You’re not sure how to respond, stuttering out a response as his hand slowly travels from your ass, down to the back of your thigh, and finally snaking in between your legs. “S-Sometimes.”

“What do you say about me?” His fingers delicately trace up between your legs, landing so close to where you desire him the most. He’s teasing you by rubbing small, firm circles into your inner thigh, the motion enough to work you up that you’re squirming against the counter. You want to break free and reach behind you to pull him closer, craving to feel him pressed harder against you. He doesn’t let you move though. “Do you tell them that I’m a sweetheart, or do you tell them dirty things you’d like to do to me?”

“Fuck,” you’re gasping, trying to catch your breath as much as possible, the countertop no longer feeling cool against your skin. “I told them that I’d fold for you, Jeonghan, that I’d like to be bent over just like this.”

“I know, angel,” he coos, and you feel his fingers finally trace your folds, sure that your panties have soaked through by now. “I’ve heard it earlier.”

You feel embarrassed, unsure what he means by that. You assume it can only mean one thing, “Did you overhear what I said earlier, Jeonghan?” You yelp when you feel your panties get pushed to the side, a long finger dipping deep into your cunt. “Jesus, Jeonghan, were you listening in on my conversation?”

Jeonghan adds another finger, deeming that you are more than wet enough to take it, and you moan out in confirmation. “So what if I overheard you? We wouldn’t be where we are right now if I didn’t, right?” His fingers are moving in and out of you at a teasing pace now, slightly curling and beckoning louder moans from you. You’re nodding pathetically, deciding to table this conversation for later.

He finally lets go of the wrists pinned behind your back, but scolds you immediately for reaching towards him, “keep your hands above your head like a good little angel, or else I won’t let you cum. You’re so grabby all the time, such a tease.”

His free hand pushes your dress up to your waist, finally allowing Jeonghan to get a better view of the red marks he left on your ass. Groaning at the sight, Jeonghan palms the plump mound with his hand, his fingers now moving in and out of you at a brutal pace.

You’re soon begging for your release, “p-please, Jeonghan, I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want.” He’s pulling you up now, arm wrapping around the front of your waist to pull you tight against his chest. His fingers don’t stop working inside of you, you’re shaking as you feel your orgasm approaching, and Jeonghan can feel the way you clamp around his fingers. Deciding you don’t deserve it yet, he yanks his fingers out of your heat, and spins you around to face him finally.

Crying out in annoyance, he hushes you swiftly, “don’t you dare whine, angel. Be a good girl and you’ll eventually get what you deserve.” He’s quick to pull your dress off you finally, your chest spilling out due the lack of a bra underneath. The sight almost pisses him off, unbelieving that you’ve been sat here the whole time without a bra on. “Such a fucking tease, Y/N,” and with that his lips are diving into yours; your first kiss being driven by messy passion and pent-up tension.

Your hands are wandering all over his body, starting at the soft tresses of his hair and running down his sides to where the waistband of his sweatpants is. Your hands slip past the band, and you’re greeted immediately with his hard cock, precum leaking from the tip. Smirking against his lips, “You say I’m the tease, meanwhile here you are with no boxers on.”

Jeonghan’s kisses become rougher, lips trailing down your jaw to your neckline, and nibbling into the sensitive skin. His hands are now working at your pert nipples, expertly rolling them in between his fingers as you begin to stroke at his length. “Well at least you’re finally using your hands for something good,” he’s whispering as he begins to suck at a nipple, hands now grabbing at your hips as they buck towards him, the feeling of his heavy cock in your hands and his mouth on your nipple becoming all too much for you.

He's finally had enough, realizing he won’t last long when you pull your hand from his pants to spit in your palm, your now lubricated hand jerking him off expertly. With that, he’s grabbing you by the hips to pick you up, legs instinctively wrapping around him as he carries you to his bedroom.

Jeonghan wastes no time, dropping you down to the bed, and pulling his t-shirt and sweatpants off as you scramble to regain your composure. You take the time to admire Jeonghan, he’s a work of art, and you can’t believe you’ve been blessed with such a roommate. Jeonghan can say the same about you, admiring the way you’re laid out in his bed, his own little angel sent to him by Joshua.

The only thing stopping him from fucking you at this point are the soaked, lace panties that he couldn’t bother to take off earlier. “Take them off for me, Y/N,” he’s commanding, watching as you stare up at him with lustful eyes, a daring spark in them.

You take your sweet time, parting your legs for him to watch as flick your heels off and painfully, slowly pull your underwear down, letting the thin fabric fall at your ankles. You hold the panties up from one ankle, letting them dangle at his eye level as you rise to your elbows, knowing you’re doing exactly what would irk him the most: teasing him.

He knows damn well what you’re trying to do, finding your attempt to tease him humorous as he snatches the fabric from your ankle. He’s quick to move over top of you, once again grabbing your wrists. However, this time he’s using the thin, elastic fabric to tie them together above your head. You aren’t sure how, but he successfully accomplishes binding your wrists together.

“That wasn’t so smart of you now, was it, angel?” He’s cooing at you, a hand brushing over your hair before grabbing his cock, hot and heavy, the angry, red tip begging to be shoved into you. “Like I said, only good girls get what they deserve.”

“S-sorry, Jeonghan,” you’re moaning out as he begins to guide his tip between your folds. “Please, if you just fuck me, I’ll stop with the teasing and be a good girl.”

“Oh really?” He’s looking at you quizzically, testing the waters as he begins to press into you with a bit more force, your own hips trying to chase his to offer you some relief.

You’re starting to lose it, nonsensically muttering out pleas as he continues to tease at your folds, making you jerk every time he brushes your clit. Finally, Jeonghan can no longer handle his teasing himself, and without a second guess, he pushes his cock into your warm walls. You’re so tight and warm that he thinks he might explode without warning, a loud groan leaving from the depths of his chest as you welcome him in so easily.

“Fuck, angel, you feel so good,” he’s praising you for once, shallowly beginning to fuck in and out of you, making sure you’re feeling the same degree of pleasure as him before he starts to move too much. “Taking me in so well, would have never thought you were such a tease like this.”

“Ha-Hannie, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You’re asking, motioning to the hands tied up above your head. “Please untie me, want to touch you.”

He obliges, agreeing that you’ve been good enough when he feels your walls clamp against his length without provoking you to. You’re quick to grab his face with your hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss, feeling his cock throbbing inside of you as you clamp harder around him. You need some movement, losing all sensibility from the way he thrusts shallowly inside you still.

“Such a good girl,” he’s breathing out between kisses, “feeling you tighten so needily around me, maybe the tease deserves a reward.”

“Fuck me harder, Jeonghan,” you’re begging, hands wrapped in his hair as he begins to pick up pace. “Fuck me hard and deep, please.”

Your moans turn into screams as his lengths pulls out of you, the emptiness feeling disappointing, only for him to begin snapping his hips into you at an increased pace. You feel the curve of his cock hit your g-spot, something past lovers haven’t been able to accomplish. The bed shakes from the strength that he’s fucking you, feeling the way your body moves up the mattress towards the headboard. He’s rough in how he thrusts into you, but still gentle, like himself, as he holds your face in one hand, lips coming down to kiss you, swallowing all your screams like he knows they belong to him.

“My little tease, my little angel,” he’s muttering out between his own wonton noises, shocked at the way your little pussy sucks him back in every time. He can’t escape the pleasure that is you, his movements are becoming sloppier with each thrust, and he knows he has to make sure you finish first. He’s running a hand down to your clit, feeling the swollen bud throb against his thumb as he works you closer to your orgasm.

The feeling is heavenly, the way he moves so deeply inside of you, and with the added pressure to your clit, you’re seeing the bright white light of your release. You’re not sure how loud you are when the rubber band inside of you finally snaps, your orgasm relinquishing you as you finally reach your high for the night. Jeonghan is continuing to fuck you through it, and you can feel him throbbing inside of you as you clench impossibly tighter around him.

“Such a good girl, cumming around my cock like that,” Jeonghan is close to reaching his own high, hips stuttering as you beg for him to release inside of you, your walls milking him for all he’s worth. He’s pulling you in for one last kiss, loving the way your lips feel against his, all swollen and pouty from tonight. He’s tempted to overstimulate both of you, but he knows he’d be pushing his boundaries if he did.

Reluctantly, he pulls out of you, watching his cum drip from between you folds. Pride wells within his chest, proud of you for taking his cock so well without a fight. Proud to stake a claim over his angel. He’s quick to take care of you, cleaning you up and throwing a comfy, oversized white tee over you.

Jeonghan is climbing into bed next to you, your grabby hands as always pulling him into you, and wrapping you into his arms. He already knows the first thing he’s going to ask you after everything that has occurred tonight.

“So, what are you going to say to the girls about me now? Did I successfully make you fall in love with me yet?”

[nashusglasses]

note: just had a brief, dizzying spell thinking about subtly flirting with suguru in your jujutsu high years. listen. LISTEN. *shaking your shoulders violently, tears lining my eyes* he'll take care of you. here's my take on the forever-famous perilla leaf debate

.

.

.

Suguru takes it upon himself to be grill master for the night. Satoru's too busy stuffing the little tofu bowls down his throat, and Shoko's already in a sake-induced stupor of laziness.

You try taking some pickled radish. Satoru swipes at it in 0.2 seconds and swallows it down before your chopsticks even reach the bowl.

"There's a bowl closer to you," you complain.

Satoru brightens at your suggestion, grabbing the cold ceramic and tipping the radish past his tongue. "The one you were going for looked juicier," he chews through his words.

Whatever. You could always order more. Suguru says nothing, diligently flipping the beef in the pan. Shoko asks you to move out the booth seat because she needs to piss.

When you sit back down, Satoru is already writing to get 5 more orders of pickled bean sprouts and spicy tofu. "How about rice? Six more bowls?"

Suguru sneers. "You're a pig."

"I'm a growing boy. Okay, six–" Satoru hums to himself, frowning– "and maybe some more potatoes. Do you think Shoko wants mushrooms? Because I want more mushrooms."

While Satoru contemplates Shoko's dietary concerns, Suguru drops a heap of perfectly-browned beef on your plate. "Oh. Thank you," you say, and he nods with a gentle smile.

"Let me know if you want more."

Your heart pangs a quiet beat. You nod, too, picking at the meat, convincing yourself that the heat in your face is from the sizzling plate in front of you, and not from Suguru's rolled up sleeves, or the way he carefully adds more to the pan to cook for Satoru's seemingly-bottomless appetite.

You're almost wary when you make a grab for the perilla leaves. Satoru's too good at guessing your next move. You try to prepare yourself, his quick ha!, all the leaves suddenly stuck in his chopsticks, leaving none to spare.

He's too busy chiding Suguru for burning his beef, though. Good. No sudden movements from the manchild with ten stomachs.

You try to grab a leaf. They stick together, folded over in the slick of sauce, and suddenly you miss Shoko because she's always the first to offer help. Her and her stupid small bladder.

You try again. The bottom chopstick manages to slip under one leaf, but a waitress comes by with the five hundred sides Satoru ordered, and the table rattles when he slams his hands down in excitement, bellowing thank you very much!, and your attempt is thwarted when the leaves curl again.

Satoru scarfs down three radish bowls. You try one more time.

You're almost vibrating with frustration. Did God like seeing his subjects suffer through the pain of repetition? You suppose all good things come with tribulations.

You look up. Suguru's watching you with a blank face.

"Good lord." Satoru groans through a mouthful of rice. "You've been trying to get that for–here–"

–clink.

Satoru's chopsticks, intercepted by Suguru's chopsticks. The poor perilla leaf stretches under the weight of their interruption. Suguru is still watching you.

"Oh," you say.

"Suguru," Satoru whines. "First my burnt beef, now this! You broke them all!"

It's true. The leaves are ripped straight down the middle, and all your meat is cold. But he keeps his eyes on you, chopsticks still a threat to Satoru's, and you don't think you've ever seen him move so fast.

Suguru's mold breaks, then. He laughs, scratching the back of his head in sheepish apology. "Sorry. Why don't you just ask for my help next time?"

"Okay," you murmur, and you grab the desecrated leaf. Suguru hums when he watches you chew. You have the distinct feeling that he's somewhat satisfied.

(Satoru yanks his hand back, grumbling something about god you're helpless in Suguru's direction. You hear the brief stomp of someone's foot. Satoru yelps.)

.

.

.

When Suguru lies down in bed later that night, he thinks of the way you thoughtfully chew your food. He dreams of perilla leaves, and what it must feel like to feel the warmth of your face with his hands.

[standfucker]

Breathe Me In

Character: Smoker

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 7.4k

CW: minor injury and first aid (not graphic but stitches are mentioned), explicit N.SFW content, breathplay, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy

Summary: As a woman in the Marines, the path to Read Admiral has been rough, but Smoker's been there for you since the beginning.

Ao3 Link

🎉🎉🎉🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zoros-sheath !!!🎉🎉🎉🎉 Hope the 2.5 days of anticipation weren't too rough on you. Good job! You did it! You waited and here it is! Sweet n' spicy and served hot just for you! <3 I love you!

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he pours the disinfectant over the wound on your arm, and your breath turns into a hiss.

“I know,” he says. “Sorry, kid.”

“We’re the same age,” you say automatically, as you always do. Not that it’s ever stopped him, he’s been teasing you with that ever since he learned he was seven months older. “And you don’t need to apologize.”

You can handle a little pain. As a Rear Admiral, this is far from your first rodeo, but you always stay mindful of how you’re appearing to your unit. None of them are in the tent at the moment, though, nor is Smoker one of yours–ranking a spot above you, the Vice Admiral led his own team–but habits were habits.

Both of your units had been assigned to the same mission, which was always a delight. You and Smoker had gone through basic training together and started out in the same unit, but didn’t get to see each other as often once you'd both advanced to the higher ranks. You used to hate how he always seemed to be just a step ahead career-wise. You would advance to his level, share a few months to a year at the same rank, and then he would ultimately earn a promotion, leaving you with the dispiriting sense of being second-best. He had even been in charge of you at one point when he was made Captain of your unit. But despite that, you’d have never made it this far without him in the first place, his competence and strength a point of burning motivation for you.

“Not the same age,” Smoker mutters, the childish banter his attempt to distract you. “I’m thirty-six and a half.”

Since the beginning, there had always been a charged undercurrent to your rivalry. You felt it when you sparred, you felt it when you half-jeered, half encouraged each other during grueling physical fitness tests. You felt it when you ate together, and when you reached down to tap your shared bunk frame at lights-out. You felt it most when, every night, without fail, you’d hear a return tap. Each of you pushed the other to excel as you rose through the ranks, and became better soldiers, and eventually leaders, for it.

The life-and-death battles that came with experience only strengthened your bond. Having each others’ backs in a fight brought a depth of trust that few other situations could, you’d found–it seemed inevitable, then, when your relationship turned physical. Though neither of you were as interested in other people, you weren’t exclusive: A near-death experience on your end made you question the wisdom of such an arrangement with both parties in such high-risk employment. And for years, that was fine with you, and you’d assumed it was fine with Smoker. You would get to see each other when work let your paths cross, and you both made a point to try to spend time together if your vacations overlapped. But at last year’s Marine Ball, Smoker had asked you, flat-out in that direct manner of his, if you would be exclusive with him. You asked for some time to think it over, promising him an answer by the time you next met.

That time happened to be the start of the current mission, a few weeks ago. Smoker made a valiant attempt to hide his pleasure when you told him you accepted. He didn’t smile in front of anyone else, nor did he treat you differently while they were watching, but it still slipped out in other ways. He went noticeably easier on his men, even holding his tongue rather than scolding Tashigi when she lost her glasses again. Watching his unit trying to figure out why their Vice Admiral seemed in such a good mood was a source of great entertainment for you.

Unfortunately for everyone, it didn’t last. The mission ultimately led to a fight with the pirates you’d been hunting, and Smoker had been pissy ever since. In the heat of battle, he didn’t notice an enemy taking aim at him. You did, managing to push him out of the way and getting grazed in the process. It wasn’t serious, but you knew that stubborn chimney would hyperfocus on it for a while, replaying the situation in his head and trying to figure out what he could have done differently.

Smoker’s insistence on treating your wound himself, having gruffly dismissed both medics from the tent, was proof enough of that. 

“Sutures now,” he says.

You could usually tell what he was thinking because you thought the same way. Both of you were quick to blame yourselves, to shoulder the burden because you were strong enough to. His sense of duty and yours could clash at times; you shared that headstrong independence in common. And yet, at the end of the day, your decision to accept his offer had been an easy one. 

More importantly than loving you, Smoker respected you–and you’d like to keep it that way. He was never a dick about gender like many in the Navy could be, but your conduct was always in the back of your head regardless. Not appearing weak was crucial to social survival in this line of work. And so, even though Smoker is safe, you do your best not to react when he starts to stitch. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop a twitch here, a contorting of your face there, and Smoker sighs through his nose, twin plumes of smoke puffing from his nostrils like a dragon. 

“Even after all this time,” he grumbles. "You don’t need to act tough in front of me. You’re just like Tashigi… Or, I should say, Tashigi takes after you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The pain makes you respond a little more snappily than you normally would. You don’t appreciate the implications of him naming the only women he spends time with, for one. For another, you’ve informally adopted Tashigi and will hear no slander toward her, but Smoker surprises you with his response.

“You put on a brave face,” he glances at you for a moment before returning his focus to your wound, “because you have to work twice as hard to gain half as much respect.”

That catches you off guard. As much as you love Smoker, and as sensible as he usually is, that’s not something you’d expect to hear from a man, much less a military man. Neither had you ever felt it necessary to discuss that aspect of your life with him, so you ask, “who told you that?”

“Vice Admiral Tsuru.”

You blink. “What brought on that conversation?”

“It was years ago, when we had our big fight,” Smoker briefly looks up as he recalls it. The continued disrespect of your male peers had reached a boiling point, and Smoker’s promotion ahead of you had brought out some hard feelings. “She overheard us, apparently. I didn’t ask, but she approached me with a ‘word of advice,’ and told me her guess as to why you were upset. Said I ought to go easy on you.”

“She did?” You didn’t expect that, either. Tsuru had never once coddled you, nor had she treated you any differently from other soldiers. Like any other Vice Admiral, she demanded no less than excellence from the rank and file. To think she was looking out for you behind your back brings a small smile to your face, but Smoker only rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. And years later, when Tashigi was assigned to me–Tsuru didn’t say anything, but she made eye contact with me the next time we met. Sustained eye contact.”

You laugh; he does not, silently tying off the sutures and starting to bandage your arm. You watch Smoker work. His expression doesn’t change much, but you know him well enough to read the minute differences, the slight tensing of his brow and the way he bites down just a bit harder on his cigars.

“You’re still mad.”

“Why did you take the bullet?” He cuts right to the chase, pausing his work to give you a hard look.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, too, as you hadn’t taken anything, you’d only been grazed. The wound wasn’t even that deep, whereas Smoker getting shot directly would have been a far worse injury to treat, assuming he survived it at all. “Smoker, that pirate was using Colors of Arms. It would have hurt you.”

“So you let it hurt you instead.” His voice is carefully flat as he resumes bandaging, the way it is when he’s making an effort not to raise it–he learned early on that you have zero tolerance for men shouting. 

This conversation always happened after combat situations, to the point that it long since stopped being a bother. You know how to handle it now. Once it would have aggravated you, feeling like coddling, but you’d since come to learn that Smoker got irritable when anyone under his command was injured. Pretending like he would feel any less toward his partner was unfair to him, and a naive expectation in the first place. Not much raises his spirits in these situations aside from time, but you try to be lighthearted anyway.

“In the interest of tactics,” you point out, “as the strongest one in our group, it’s more important that you stay uninjured.”

“Screw that. You’re under me in rank–”

“Barely–” you try to cut in.

“–it’s my job to keep you safe.” Smoker finishes wrapping your wound. He’s delicate when he tucks the bandage in, but then peels off his rubber gloves and tosses them with far more force than necessary, the rubber snapping loudly against the waste bin.

You tsk. “Did you forget what they taught us as grunts, way back when? ‘Keep the Captain alive.’ And you did keep me safe, didn’t you? You subdued the pirate with the opening I gave you. I kept my Captain alive, you kept the rest of us safe. The system worked as it should.”

“The system is a fucking joke,” he retorts with a bitterness you rarely hear from him. His hands ball into fists, and you know he’s thinking about Punk Hazard again, which means he’s thinking about Alabasta again, too.

You also know that his stewing in those memories will only make him feel worse, but there’s another way to lift his mood that occasionally works, when he’s receptive to it.

“...Yeah? Is that what you keep telling yourself whenever you’re fooling around with your subordinate?” You say it just a touch vampishly, and his eyes are slightly narrowed when they meet yours–he knows what you’re doing. “You should know better, Captain.”

Calling him ‘Captain,’ evoking the old days and the old power dynamic, is another dead giveaway as to what you’re offering. For a moment, he doesn’t reply, and you think his mood’s too sour to reciprocate. Then he relaxes his fists and grunts.

“I don’t tell myself anything when we're fooling around,” he says. “You do plenty of that for me. Mainly don’t stop and please.”

You smile, going to rest your hands on his, but he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, don’t–don’t distract from what happened.”

“Smoker,” you sigh.

“It’s my mistake that got you hurt.”

“Will you please stop taking responsibility for my choices? I know what I can handle. Hell, you know what I can handle. You know I can take care of myself.”

“So can I,” he argues.

“Apparently not!” you snap. He scowls and turns his head, ashamed, but you grab his sleeve to make him look at you again. You are not going to coddle his ego, even if his intentions are ultimately loving. “Put yourself in my shoes for a damn second. How would you feel if you had the chance to protect me and didn’t? You wanted to be committed to each other. That means I look out for you, too.”

Smoker stares at you, then at the ground, and then closes his eyes. You wait patiently as he takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, you can visibly see the tension easing in his shoulders, sense its waning with your Haki, dissipating with the smoke he exhales. Stepping before you once more, he rests his hands low on your hips and pulls you close without a word. Conveniently, with him having over a foot of height on you, you can embrace him without the threat of cigar smoke up in your face; you promptly take advantage of that to bury your face into his broad chest (another win for height difference.)

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads in your chest at how easy it is for him to admit it, to defer to your judgment when rightfully earned. “I just hate seeing you injured.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re my woman.” Smoker grabs your ass in emphasis, squeezing hard and pulling you flush against him. You can’t help but bite your lip at the treatment, and he smirks down at you. “Like the sound of that?”

“I dunno…”

“You’re blushing.”

“So are you!”

That makes him pause, taking a moment to check the surroundings with his Haki, making sure no one’s heading your way. You instinctively follow suit, sensing the various life energies of your combined units, all at their respective posts. Comfortably in the clear, you and Smoker focus back on each other.

“I know you're still frustrated, Smoker,” you say. “If only there was some way to work it out…”

“I’m getting the subtle impression you want me to take it out on you.” One hand leaves your rear to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly on your lower lip. You poke your tongue out to brush the calloused digit, making his eyes half-lid and his voice deepen. “Are you really such a slut that you’d fuck right after getting injured?”

“Only for you, Captain,” you promise. Keeping eye contact, you lightly bite the tip of his thumb, earning the rare sound of his breath catching. “Besides…we both know it would have to be deeper than that to affect me.”

“How deep we talkin’?” Smoker’s hand slides from your jaw to cradle the back of your neck. You go to hook your arms around his neck, but raising your injured arm up above your head agitates your wound, torn muscles burning, and you can’t stop yourself from sucking in a sharp breath at the sting. 

Smoker clicks his tongue, large hands gently wrapping around your forearms and lowering them back to your sides. “You need to rest.”

“Nooo, no I don’t. This is nothing,” you protest.

“You’re in pain.”

“I like a little pain.”

“Trust me, Y/n,” he says, touching under your chin. “I am well acquainted with the kind of pain you like. This ain’t it.” 

“You’re literally not the boss of me.”

“And yet, so often, you beg me to be just that.”

Unamused, you tilt your head away so he isn’t touching you, trying not to frown as your heart sinks. By now, you should be an expert at dealing with disappointment, but it never gets easier. God, but it feels like a physical thing sometimes, creeping and icy like a winter sea. “By the time I heal enough, we’ll have parted ways again.”

“I know.” Smoker takes your hands in his; a small consolation.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you next.” You look at him, squeezing his hands.

“Pretend it’s the old days,” Smoker suggests, “when you couldn’t stand to even share a bunk with me.”

You smile at the memory–it seems like a lifetime ago. “That doesn’t help. I wanted to fuck you back then, too.”

That finally makes him smile slightly, the corner of his lip curling. “Then you’ll just have to wait,” he lets go of your hands to hold your face again, leaning in closer, “and I will take great satisfaction knowing you’re touching yourself in private, thinking about what I’ll do to you when I see you next.”

You wet your lips, pulse jumping at the thought. “Why don’t you give me a little preview? I mean, I did just save your life and all…”

Smoker grins, taking out his cigars with one hand and stubbing them in the palm of the other. It doesn’t hurt him given his Devil Fruit, but there’s something about the entire process, from watching the cigars leave his lips to hearing the sizzle as they’re put out, that just makes you wet. Maybe it’s a conditioned response–he’ll move his cigars out of the way to kiss you, but if he stubs them out, it means he intends on taking his time.

“Fine, but don’t complain when you get worked up for nothing.”

“I’ll deal.”

“You say that now–”

You grab the collar of his jacket with your good hand, using your full strength to yank him down to your level. “Would you please shut up and kiss me?”

Smoker responds with equal force, grabbing you by the neck. Your resulting moan is cut off by his lips crashing into yours.

Finally. It’s been months since you’ve last tasted him, even longer since you had him. And while you always missed him when you were apart, it was noticeably worse ever since he asked you to be exclusive. Maybe it was the knowledge that he wanted you to himself, the desire you now knew burned for no one else.

You part your mouth, tracing his lips with your tongue before sucking and nibbling on them. Smoker matches your energy, following your lead and biting your lower lip. Just as you start getting into it, your tongues meet, and suddenly he’s pulling away. “What?” you ask breathily. “What is it?”

“I changed my mind,” Smoker says.

“What?!”

“Any more and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He at least has the decency to look sheepish, but you don’t bother to hide your displeasure, even glaring slightly. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You know,” you cross your arms, wincing when it agitates your wound, “now that we’re monogamous, it’s kind of your job to meet my needs.”

Smoker looks at you sharply in surprise, but you don’t budge. You’ve dealt with misogynistic bullshit for so long, you’re allowed to weaponize it once in a while.

“You are injured,” he points at you, “I’m not letting you guilt me.”

“I’m just saying, that wouldn’t matter if we were slow and gentle about it–”

“When have we ever done slow and gentle?”

You raise a hand to retort, but then pause. Though you scramble for an example, no matter how much you think back, you realize it’s never really happened. Your meetings with Smoker were so few and far between that you two always ended up blowing off steam intensely. There was one time where your vacations overlapped and you spent a week at a rented cottage, and that was it. Slowly, you lower your hand. “Okay, you got me there.”

“And I promise I’ll get you there again,” Smoker says cheekily, “next time.”

This time, you do roll your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Yeah, here’s some more.” You roll your eyes three more times, just to push his buttons a little.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that one day,” Smoker says, having long-since wisened up to your tactics. “This is bait.”

“It is, but you don’t have to take it.”

“Only one of us is going to be taking it–”

Both your senses go off, Haki alerting you to a soldier approaching the tent–Tashigi. You pull away from each other, fixing your uniforms and putting on a strict air. The two of you have yet to be open about your relationship. Romance between soldiers wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but it was less messy to keep things under wraps.

With the mission over, your units would be going on their separate ships the following morning. This will be the last you see him for who knows how long.

Right before Tashigi reaches the tent, Smoker takes your hand suddenly, pulling you into a hug. He buries his face into your neck, taking in your scent.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mutters, then lets you go.

When Tashigi walks into the tent, you and Smoker aren’t standing as close, and Smoker’s re-lit his cigars.

Before you leave for the night, though, you tap on the exam table, a subtle farewell, and right before you leave the tent, you hear Smoker’s return tap.

It’s been three months since the end of the mission with Smoker. Out of the blue, you receive orders to return to the nearest Marine outpost, three weeks away by sail. The message contains no further information.

It’s not unusual to get such orders. Sometimes plans are too sensitive to be relayed even over a secure transponder snail channel. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying–you hate going on long trips blindly–but such is the nature of the job.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if anyone else would be summoned to the outpost. It could be that only one unit is called in. Occasionally, multiple units are called at once. There’s a small chance that others have indeed been called, and an even smaller chance that Smoker’s unit could be among them. But you snuff out the thought–getting excited only to be let down has happened too many times now, you know better than to get your hopes up. It’s simply not worth the disappointment, so you forget about the possibility.

From the number of ships at the dock, you can gauge that your unit is, in fact, not the only one that’s been called in, but you’re one of the first few to arrive. Whether others will come after is not your concern, so you disembark and head inside to be briefed on the reason you’re there in the first place.

Debriefings are boring. So is the down time in-between that and the following meetings, which are the most boring of all. Holding back a yawn is a monumental feat, but you manage, especially because Admiral Sakazuki is the one currently speaking. He’d tear you a new asshole if he caught you displaying such blatant disrespect.

You don’t care for Sakazuki at all. He’s exactly the kind of man the top brass looks for–rigid, humorless, and austere in his leadership. He’s also short-tempered, rude, and, in general, a giant douchebag. So while you stay alert and attentive as he talks, you have no qualms thinking to yourself, shut up, shut up, shut up…

Not curating your thoughts is a mistake. When Sakazuki mentions his annoyance at civilian interference with a mission, you aren’t able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in time, and he catches you.

The bellowing that follows is deafening, the admonishment humiliating. Sakazuki chews you out and spits you up, right there in front of everyone. Do it again and he won’t bother demoting you, he says, he’ll just roast you alive and serve you to your unit.

The room is dead silent when he finishes. You’ve never felt smaller.

Sakazuki takes a deep hit of his cigar, wraps up the meeting, and dismisses everyone. When you turn around, you see that Smoker is at the back, having joined in late–you didn’t even notice him with the Admiral’s presence bowling over everyone else’s energy. Smoker meets your eye, his gaze carefully blank. You look away as you pass by him.

“Y/n–” he starts to say.

You shake your head tersely, not willing to hear it. Smoker lets you leave.

It’s only a few hours later, after you’ve had some time to cool off, that he shows up again. You’re in the temporary quarters you’ve been assigned–at your rank, at least you have your own private room–laying in the bed when Smoker appears. A small stream of smoke comes from under the door and rises, gathering into a human shape. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s visited you covertly in that way. The shape solidifies and reforms into the man you love, who crosses the room and sits next to you on the bed.

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ I know,” you mumble without looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Smoker just rests a hand on your knee and grunts.

Your zero tolerance for men shouting obviously can’t apply to those ranking above you, something you’ve had to accept as a fact of military life. It’s part of what drove you in your career, maybe even the root of your ambition, the reason you dream of being fleet admiral. Sometimes you wonder–is it a powerful woman’s determination to succeed? Or a little girl’s desperate bid for control and security, so that no one could ever assert themselves over her again? Either way, you long to be at the top, so you would never have to sacrifice your principles for the sake of your career ever again.

“Smoker,” you say, still staring at the ceiling. “Do you think ‘admiral’ and ‘admiration’ come from the same word?”

Smoker is quiet for a moment. By now, he knows you so well he probably knows what you’re thinking.

“Dunno, kid,” is his response.

“We’re the same age.”

“Nuh-uh.”

That makes you smile, and you sit up, crawling over and throwing your arms around Smoker. He hugs you back tightly.

“Try to control yourself next time, yeah?” he suggests, patting your back. “You won’t do the world any good demoted.”

“I’m not in this for the world. You know that.”

“Bullshit. You have the lowest rate of civilian losses of all commissioned officers.”

You pull away from him, blinking. “I do? That’s–wait, how do you know that?”

“I snuck into the records office last year.” Smoker caresses the back of your head. “Despite what you tell yourself, you’re a good person, a great soldier, and an amazing leader.”

Your chest swells–with love, with pride–but you raise your chin. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I am.”

You laugh. Part of what you loved about Smoker was his frankness. “I missed you so much.”

He removes his cigars from his mouth. “Show me.”

You hold his face in your hands and kiss him. Just like that, the anxiety of the day dissipates, like the smoke rising from his cigars, and fades away. 

“That proof enough?” you ask playfully.

“No. You’ll need to do better than that, soldier.”

You reposition yourself, straddling his lap, and kiss him again passionately. His tongue swipes across your lips, but despite you parting them, he doesn’t give you what you want just yet, pulling away and trailing his fingers down your neck just to watch you shudder.

“I always did like,” he begins, “how a headstrong, driven gal like you would melt at just a touch.”

You’re a Rear Admiral. An elite, powerful soldier, well-versed in the six powers, and a wielder of both types of Haki. You can take out whole crews on your own. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are now, you want nothing less than to be the best. You have to be nothing short of perfect if you want any recognition.

It’s for that exact same reason why your interests in bed skew the way they do. Being strong all the time is exhausting. Relinquishing control is a release from that weight you carry. With Smoker, you can indulge in that with the complete trust that he’d never hurt you–it’s no wonder you’re weak for him in bed. So where you long to be at the top in your career, you’re quite happy, behind closed doors, to assume the opposite role.

Smoker stubs out his cigars in his palm. Just like before, the action has you pressing your legs together, heart picking up its rhythm. He turns to look for a trash can to throw them, you smack them out of his hand and onto the floor.

“Don’t make me wait, Captain,” you say impatiently, practically crawling onto him. “Not one moment longer.”

“Watch it,” he warns, but he’s smirking.

Smoker picks you up, stands, and turns to the wall, pinning you against it with his body. Then he grabs your face in one large hand and roughly kisses you. You kiss him back hungrily. All the stress from the day, all the frustration from the weeks without him, you pour it all into him. In turn, he lets you know with his tongue and his teeth just how much you’ve been missed. His thick thigh separates your legs while you make out, wedging snugly against your cunt. Back and forth, his thigh rubs into you, and back and forth, your tongues push and pull like waves against the other. There’s a bittersweet cigar flavor to him that you’ve grown addicted to. It tastes like passion and need and home all at once, and you can’t get enough.

Smoker sloppily kisses down your jaw, and you angle your head to make it easier for him, clutching onto his jacket. It’s hard to be rational after so long without his touch, but you’re a disciplined officer before anything else.

“You got condoms?” you ask breathily.

“I don’t,” he answers between kisses. “Didn’t think I’d see you.”

You have a birth control implant in your upper arm, but always use a second form of contraception just to be safe–even the implant has a minuscule rate of failure. But that percentage seems incredibly insignificant at the moment.

“That’s okay,” you decide.

“I’ll pull out.”

“Yeah–mm!”

Smoker’s bitten down on the sensitive side of your neck. You clamp your thighs around his, gasping. You intended to touch him back, but as usual, once he starts sucking on your neck, you can’t focus on much else, a little whimper rising from your throat.

It feels so good, little goosebumps prickling throughout your whole body. “Smoker,” you whine helplessly.

He growls in response, a deep sound that makes you twitch between the legs.

“Smoker, no marks,” you barely manage to remind him.

He breaks away. “I know.”

The loss of contact restores some mental perception. As much as he gets off on service, you want to make him feel good too. You rake your nails down his chest, and he shuts his eyes, growling again in approval. Then you lean forward and, standing on your tip-toes, bite his neck, near the base where he likes it.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, digging his fingers into your hips. You can’t mark him either, so you have to keep it light, but he doesn’t seem to care. “There’s my good girl…”

You kiss and lick down his chest, digging your nails into his sides as you go. Smoker shudders as your tongue traces his abs, mouth warm on his skin. You keep going down further, but he stops you once your fingers reach the hem of his pants.

“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs, pulling you back up by the arm and pressing you back into the wall. He leans in, caging you with his bulk. “Anything you want.”

You bite your lip, his forcefulness bringing something to mind. “Can you do the thing?”

“Make you lightheaded?”

You nod fervently, and Smoker wastes no time in grabbing your neck.

“No, I mean the other way.”

“Oh.”

“You can keep your hand there, though.” You grin up at him, and Smoker chuckles.

“That’s my needy little soldier, need me to keep you still, hm?” he praises. “Remember the safe signal?”

The safe signal is tapping ‘SOS’ on the other in morse code. You do so on his arm as a confirmation.

“Okay. You ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leans in and kisses you, sealing your mouth with his own. You grip his wrist, tense in eager anticipation for what comes next.

Smoker transforms a part of his body internally, and, very slowly, wafts it into your throat. You breathe him in gradually, a single, deep breath bringing the smoke into your lungs. You had discovered this particular little activity by accident years ago, but quickly found out two things: First, his smoke doesn’t make you cough, and second, the lack of oxygen makes your head swim in the best way.

The smoke in your chest is warm and comforting, even soothing. You breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose, where the smoke drifts back and reconnects to Smoker’s body. The first breath of him doesn’t do anything, the second starts to bring on a slight airiness, by the third inhale you’re lightheaded and wetter than you’ve ever been.

You grind on his thigh, eyes rolling back. The lightheadedness enhances the pleasure so much you'll cum soon if you keep it up. Smoker presses his thigh up into you further, making you moan, and you reach for his cock. He’s already unbuttoned his pants for relief, as he’s ragingly hard–doing this always gets him really worked up, too. Something about the trust, about being physically in contact with the most life-giving parts of you, about being inside you in a way no other person could be. He feels the pulse of life through your lungs, and it almost makes him as dizzy as he’s making you.

Smoker groans as you start massaging his cock, reflexively thrusting himself into your hand. Thanks to your Marine training, you can hold your breath longer than most, so you stay like that for a while, grinding on his thigh while stroking him and basking in the high, the bliss mounting quickly higher until it explodes. You cum hard against the solid bulk of his thigh, pulling your head back and gasping fresh air as your vision spots.

“There you go, good girl,” Smoker praises, grabbing your hips and grinding you onto his thigh to draw out your orgasm. “Take deep breaths for me.”

You do as instructed, holding onto him and closing your eyes, slowly regaining oxygen as your clit throbs in the wake of everything. You take a few minutes to recover, Smoker peppering kisses all over your face in the meantime.

“All clear,” you say, wrapping your arms around Smoker’s neck. “Fit for duty and reporting for action.”

He leans in and kisses you, then kisses your jaw, making his way to your ear, where he growls, “how do you want me?”

What a dumb question–do you ask a starving man which restaurant he wants to go to? “Don’t care. Just have me.”

“Suit yourself. You got a change of clothes here?”

“Yeah.”

Without further notice, Smoker grabs your shirt at the neckline and tears it off your body in one motion. He knows better than to do the same to your bra (after having yelled at him years ago that good ones aren’t cheap,) letting you take it off yourself. Then he adjusts you so only your upper back is leaning against the wall, your hips perched on his own, with your legs wrapped around him for support. Now having some space behind your lower back, he grabs your wrists and pins them there.

“Don’t complain about your choices later,” Smoker says, and kisses his way down your breast until he’s reached your nipple, which he takes into his mouth.

“No, Sir–ah!” you bite back your moan as he swirls his tongue, tugging helplessly against his hold on your wrists. “Fuck!”

His tongue prods and licks your nipple, eyes fixed on your strained face, then he messily pops off and goes to your other one, sucking it hard.

“Smoker! Ah! Please…” you moan. His attention to your chest is the worst kind of teasing, making your engorged clit ache to be touched. You try in vain to grind against him for some relief, but with your wrists pinned behind your back, you can’t get any leverage. “Please!”

Smoker detaches from your chest, leaving a rough bite to your breast before responding. “What did I say about complaining?”

“I changed my mind!”

“Imagine that.”

He goes back to slurping and sucking on your tits, and you can do nothing about it but struggle against him, gasping and moaning as his teeth gently scrape your nipples.

“Please, Sir!” you beg.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I need it!”

He kisses your nipple sloppily, pausing to ask, “you fantasize about it?” Then he sucks it into his mouth again, watching your expression as you struggle to respond.

“Yes! I–fuck–I thought about you every night!”

“What did you imagine me doing to you?”

“What do you think?” you whine, losing composure.

“Tell me.”

You could cry with frustration. He keeps teasing your chest while you try to form the words. “I thought about you–manhandling me, pulling my hair…”

“And?”

“And holding me down, and fucking me stupid!” you sobbed. “Please, please!”

“Please what, soldier?”

“Please use me for yourself! I want to forget everything but your name!”

He smirks, finally satisfied. “You sound damn good begging, you know that?”

Letting go of your wrists, Smoker tears your pants off of you as easily as he did your shirt, gripping the cloth so hard your underwear beneath is torn off with it. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his massive cock springing rigid against his abs, smearing pre-cum on his skin. You practically salivate at the sight, but he tilts your chin back up to look at him, then kisses you, tongue in your mouth as he lines himself up with your heat.

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he thrusts all the way inside your heat, and your breath turns into a broken moan.

“I know,” he growls, kissing up your neck, “attagirl, taking it all.”

“Oh my god,” you rest your head on his shoulder, overwhelmed by how good it feels. “Oh, Smoker…”

He pulls back his hips before rolling them into you, ripping a moan from you both. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He thrusts again. “And warm. So warm.”

Smoker starts up a brisk, steady pace, most of your upper body supported by his arms, just your upper back resting on the wall. It’s still not enough for him; he presses you back even further until you’re flat against the wall, thrusting up into you desperately. You grab onto his thick arms, fingers digging in, and hold on for the ride, eyes shutting tightly as he rapidly drags you back to another peak.

“Such a loyal little soldier, taking care of their captain…” he murmurs, and you cry out as you cum a second time. He moans at the feeling of your walls spasming around his cock, slowing down so he can kiss you.

Smoker pulls away from the wall, walking you toward the bed. Unable and unwilling to wait, you use the strength in your thighs to ride him standing, fucking yourself on his dick as he walks. The sensation makes him stagger and groan, cursing.

“So desperate for my cock,” he growls into your ear, then picks you up off his length and tosses you, face-down, onto the bed. Before you can so much as turn your head, he smacks your ass hard, making you moan, then grabs your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Well, Y/n?” he asks. “Am I meeting your needs now, you little slut?” He slaps your ass again, drawing another pathetic noise from you, then mounts you from behind, his broad torso covering your back.

Smoker teases the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you practically throw yourself back onto him. Growling, he grabs your hips and spears you on his length, grip bruising as he starts heavy, rough thrusts.

“Yes!” you cry, finally getting what you’ve craved all these months. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You take it so well, Y/n, and you’re all mine.” Smoker lets go of your hip with one hand to instead curl his fingers into your hair at the base, pulling your head back so he can growl into your ear, “I love knowing that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

“Captain!” you moan, bracing against his powerful hips. “Don’t stop!”

He doesn’t slow down for a moment, never changing pace, working you back up and up and up until you’re moaning with every thrust.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Me too,” he pants. “Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good.”

“Finish inside!”

“What–?”

“Please!”

He slows for just a moment in his surprise, but then gets back to his former pace. “Ain’t there a chance you could get pregnant?”

Now, you weren’t interested in having children. The idea occasionally had some appeal, but you preferred your life as it was. And yet, for some reason, at Smoker’s words, you felt your clit throb and your cunt clench around his dick tightly, enough that he definitely noticed.

“You want that?” Smoker says in disbelief.

“No!” you cried, but it was too late, he pulled your head back again and spoke into your ear.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to knock you up?”

You clenched down on him again involuntarily as you sobbed, “that’s not it!”

But Smoker had found a new weak point of yours, and pounced on it fully. “I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna make you have my baby,” he growled, “then you’ll really be mine forever.”

The edges of Smoker’s form begin to wisp. You’ve heard of inexperienced Logia types losing control of their form when stressed, something fixed with training. At Smoker’s level, it only happened to him when he was about to cum really hard.

“Or is it,” Smoker pants, “you just want to be full of my cum that badly? You’d risk it just to have me claim you… Oh–oh, fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back as you both hit your peak at the same time, Smoker emptying hot and thick inside you, his groan coming from deep in his belly. The nerves of your cunt spark and snap and go off like fireworks, showering your whole body in bliss that radiates in waves. His head rests on yours, his lips finding the back of your neck, kisses now soft and chaste instead of rough and wet.

Smoker readjusts you to both lay down, not pulling out, just holding you to his chest. You close your eyes as both of you catch your breath, soaking in the closeness while you can. You take in everything you can of that moment: his scent, the sweat rolling down your bodies, his firm body against and inside you still, his arms holding you close. You try and imprint it into your brain, so you can hold onto the memory in the coming lonely months without him.

“I love you,” Smoker says softly.

“I love you too,” you murmur. He’s quiet after that, but you can sense that there’s something else he wants to say. “What is it?”

“How would you feel about getting married someday?”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. The look in his eyes is the same as always: serious and forthright, though now beholding you, there’s a gentleness in them as well. He pulls out and you turn around so you’re facing him.

“Serious?” you whisper.

“Well, you don’t want kids. I gotta do something to make you mine.”

You smile. “Smoker, you don’t have to do anything.” You take his face in your hands. “It’s always been you. You’re the only one who gets me, and who makes an effort. It’s always been you.” You lean in to kiss him. “I would love to get married someday.”

“Good,” he grunts, but there’s a flush to his cheeks. Then he breaks into a rare, genuine smile of excitement. “Really?”

“First I’m going to become an Admiral.”

“What about Fleet Admiral?”

“That can come before or after.”

“Okay.” he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. “I don’t doubt you’ll make it.”

“I don’t either,” you say.

Not as long as you have his support.

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

People be saying "the party trying to figure the spicy six out" yeah, but what about Murray? Murray is suppose to be an expert on love, and he feels the tension in the room when the spicy six are together.

Robin is sitting in Steve's lap, Steve is looking at Nancy, she is questioning Argyle, who is cuddling Jonathan, who is grinning at Eddie, who is talking to Robin. And it's so confusing because then they switch. Nancy and Eddie are talking, Steve and Jonathan are laughing with their faces flushed, and Robin and Argyle are doing some weird ass handshake.

And Murray is just so lost. He's getting mixed signals. He's guessing Steve and Robin, it seems one sided. So then he's like, "Steve and Nancy?" One sided, again. So then he goes to, Steve and Jonathan. "They have chemistry..." So he decides they're dating. And he decides Nancy and Eddie are dating. "Two nerds," he tells Joyce, "perfect for each other!"

And that leaves Robin and Argyle. Murray is confident in his guesses. And when he tries to ship them together, they all just burst out laughing.

"Dude, I'm literally dating Nance," Robin said.

Steve held Eddie's hand up high. "And Eddie and I."

Argyle smiled. "Jonathan is my brochacho."

And Murray just looks at them.

"You did better than the kids," Jonathan offers.

[gerrystamour]

suspended in the ether, till i felt you in my chest [chapter one]

Written for: Lex's Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge Prompt: "Can I braid your hair?"

Explicit | Steddie | In Progress

So, Eddie would say yes as blandly as possible and Steve would get a little smirk on his lips and do whatever it was that he asked to do, and then Eddie would feel flustered, off-kilter and set adrift. It always felt like a test or a challenge and Eddie had no idea if he passed. Knowing his track record with tests, Eddie was pretty sure he didn’t. And now Eddie was sweating his entire dick off and struggling to keep the sweaty, frizzy mop that was his hair off of his neck, and Steve was asking to play with it. Well, not play with it, but braid it. That was an important distinction to make, because playing with Eddie’s hair would imply some level of intimacy that was decidedly not platonic, right? This is my first fill for @thefreakandthehair Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge! I hope you all enjoy!

[ READ ON AO3 ]

chapter one: we are broken bodies bound for each other

“Can I braid your hair?”

Eddie blinked over at Steve, eyebrows high on his sweaty forehead while he held his hair up off the back of his neck. He could swear he felt heat pouring out of his head. Steve was strarfishing in the center of Eddie’s bed in just his boxers and a t-shirt while Eddie perched on top of the desk under his window, having a smoke and pretending he could feel a breeze coming in.

Summer had descended on Hawkins with a vengeance, as if in retaliation for the brief handful of weeks in the Spring when the portals to a frigid hell dimension opened up and attempted to take over their world. Granted, summers in Hawkins tended to be hotter than Satan’s taint, especially around the Fourth of July, but Eddie figured he was allowed to be noisy and bitchy about it if he wanted.

He'd almost died—first at the hands of a town full of angry, scared hicks, then by a swarm of demobats—and this was his first summer officially free of Hawkins High, the other frigid hell dimension in that shitty town. If Eddie had to spend the summer in the sweaty armpit of America because of dumb bullshit like “recovery” and “physical therapy” and “being under observation,” he was going to bitch and moan and throw all the tantrums he wanted.

It helped that all the stupid bullshit (like recovery, and physical therapy, and being under observation) meant that Eddie got to spend a lot of time with Steve outside of the apocalypse. They were both lucky enough to be Under Observation together, courtesy of both of them being the favoured chew toys for the demobats. From there, Steve just started staying close to Eddie, taking him to and from physical therapy, helping him with his exercises at home, coming over when Eddie was in too much pain to get up to use the bathroom, let alone get up and locate painkillers and take them.

It had been a while since Steve had to help him on a particularly bad pain day, at least one that extreme, but Steve still came over almost daily. Usually, they would just hang out and eat junk food, smoke a bit of pot sometimes; watch whatever movie Steve brought over from work. Sometimes, Steve would suggest they go for a drive and they would do just that, make like they would leave completely.

“We could get out of here, never look back.” Worded like a comment, spoken like an oath.

“You wanna run away with me, Stevie?” Tone teasing but lined with a hollow desperation.

The air in the Beemer would change as the question sat heavily in the space between them and Eddie was held in suspense, waiting for Steve to say or do anything. Most of the time, he wouldn’t hear an answer from Steve over the sound of the wind through the open windows and, like the coward he was, Eddie was too afraid to look at him after asking.

Sometimes, though, he would hear, “Of course I do, Eds.” Soft, teasing, possibly even sweet. Eddie’s delusional ass always liked to imagine it sounded as lovestruck as he felt.

Regardless of whether Steve answered or not, they would just drive, next stop anywhere big enough to disappear into with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever cash they had on them. Sometimes, they would be talking, usually about stupid shit that turned into rowdy, playful arguments, but most of the time they were quiet. Just letting the music play while they played at running away from Hawkins, a tension building between them that Eddie could almost feel, like the lowest tone on a bass guitar.

The furthest they’d ever gotten outside of Hawkins before one of them chickened out was two hours. Well, the furthest they’d ever gotten before Eddie chickened out.

Eddie hated to admit that he was always the first one to back down, thinking about Wayne back at home wondering and worrying about Eddie again. He would think about how Wayne would take Eddie just skipping town, not even saying goodbye or giving him any warning, after everything they had gone through. 

And really, what would they even do if they left suddenly and unceremoniously like that? Especially the two of them?

Sure, they were friends now, Eddie felt secure enough in what they had going on to say that much was true, but that was tentative at best. He was still Eddie “The Freak” Munson, and Steve was still Steve. It was only a matter of time before he found out just how much of a freak Eddie was and ended everything. Eddie was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t hurt him, but still…

They couldn’t run away with each other because then Eddie would have nothing to fall back on once Steve found out. Not just about what team Eddie was batting for or whatever the stupid sports metaphor was, but the specific person he was stuck on. Even if Steve was okay with him being gay… the whole reason Eddie even had to move to Hawkins just before he turned thirteen was because he was an idiot and told a friend about his crush on him. Of course, his dad found out after the boy and their other friends beat Eddie up, and that obviously ended with him being shipped to Indiana to live with his uncle. But the key detail was that the kid knew Eddie was gay and told him it was okay, that he was fine with that. Eddie never wanted to take that chance again.

They had just returned to his trailer from yet another game of Escape Chicken. It had taken a bit longer than usual for Steve to respond when Eddie had suggested turning around this time, long enough for Eddie to turn and look at him. There was something intense in Steve’s expression, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his eyes traced the flex of Steve’s arms as he wrung the steering wheel briefly. For an exhilarating moment, Eddie had thought Steve would ignore him and keep going.

Then Steve looked over at Eddie with his brightest, stupidest, goofiest grin that never failed to make Eddie’s stomach do somersaults, and then turned the car around. The drive back to Hawkins was always light, with Steve turning up his shitty music and singing along to the dumb love songs, batting his long, pretty eyelashes at him whenever Steve caught him watching.

But this time Eddie was having a hard time shaking off that moment just before Steve turned around. That moment where it really felt like Steve wasn’t going to stop, and if it hadn’t been for Eddie sitting there asking to go back home, Steve probably wouldn’t have. How long did Eddie have before Steve disappeared, with or without him?

“Eds?”

Steve’s voice brought Eddie out of his spinning thoughts and back to the matter at hand, which honestly wasn’t much better for Eddie’s constitution.

Because the matter at hand was Steve starting their other game of chicken, the one that Eddie wasn’t sure who was winning or losing , if either of them even were because maybe it wasn’t even a game like the one in the car.

It still kind of felt like Eddie was the first one to flinch every time, though.

This round was always started by Steve, with him offering some sort of physical attention, and Eddie wanted to say no— knew that he should say no— but he was always, always too weak.

How could he be expected to turn down the opportunity to have his fucking crush touch him, no matter how chaste? Sure, he felt like a fucking creep saying something innocent and nonchalant— “Sure, man. Knock yourself out.”— while knowing that his thoughts were anything but. Sure, it felt like taking advantage when Steve would get close enough that Eddie could smell what remained of his cologne through the musk of his sweat. But there was really only so much Eddie could withstand; he already turned down running away into the sunset with Steve, the least he could allow himself was whatever platonic scraps of physical affection the man would offer him.

Obviously, Eddie never initiated this little game, even before he realized how he felt about Steve. Being a queer alone made Eddie’s acceptance of Steve’s touches risky enough, and once he figured out how he felt about him? It was stupid that he kept letting it happen, but at least he never started it. Plausible deniability and all that.

Stupid and pathetic as it was, he would take what he could get for as long as possible.

So, Eddie would say yes as blandly as possible and Steve would get a little smirk on his lips and do whatever it was that he asked to do, and then Eddie would feel flustered, off-kilter and set adrift. It always felt like a test or a challenge and Eddie had no idea if he passed.

Knowing his track record with tests, Eddie was pretty sure he didn’t.

And now Eddie was sweating his entire dick off and struggling to keep the sweaty, frizzy mop that was his hair off of his neck, and Steve was asking to play with it. Well, not play with it, but braid it. That was an important distinction to make, because playing with Eddie’s hair would imply some level of intimacy that was decidedly not platonic, right?

The real issue was that he just needed to tie his hair up, but Eddie couldn’t find any of the silk ties that Jeff’s mom had given him after helping him cut an elastic band out of his hair during his second senior year. His hair was even curlier with the sweat and humidity, which made it way too unruly to risk a ponytail or bun with a normal tie. Of course, braiding it solved all of that, didn’t it?

“Dude, what?” Eddie asked dumbly as he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray by his knee, trying to stall a bit before he gave his inevitable consent to have Steve’s hands on him in a strictly platonic manner.

“Your hair— do you want help with it? I can braid it for you, get it off your neck,” Steve offered again, sitting up on Eddie’s bed and gesturing at him. He was sweaty too, his shirt soaked through and his face red from the heat. Somehow, Steve’s hair was still gorgeous, in spite of the sweat dripping from his hairline and the muggy, oppressive air around them.

“You know how to braid hair?” Eddie asked rather than give Steve a response to his offer, raising an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t like Eddie actually doubted Steve’s abilities; he hadn’t doubted Steve since he jumped into a haunted fucking lake without hesitation.

Steve rolled his eyes with a put-upon sigh. “I used to braid Carol’s hair all the time,” he answered, and that piqued some of Eddie’s interest since Steve didn’t mention his friendship with Carol or Tommy H very often these days. “I stayed in practice helping Max when she’d let me before everything. C’mon, you’ve been bitching and moaning since we got back, and it stopped being cute, like, an hour ago.”

“Aw, Stevie, you think I’m cute?” Eddie teased with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes, managing to keep from grimacing outwardly as his mouth got away from him.

Something passed over Steve’s face and Eddie couldn’t place the expression, and it didn’t help that it was gone as quickly as it appeared. If he had to name the look, Eddie would have called it sad, but that didn’t make sense. Eddie didn’t say anything that could have hurt Steve’s feelings, so he couldn’t be sad. But what else could that expression have been?

“Last time I’m offering, Eds. Do you want help or not?” Steve asked with another bitchy eye-roll that Eddie couldn’t help but snort at.

“Alright, Stevie, have at’er,” Eddie said as nonchalantly as possible, gesturing grandly at his frizzy mane. “I mean, good luck, I guess.”

“It’ll be easier if your hair’s wet,” Steve said simply, getting up off the bed and stretching with a groan.

His t-shirt, soaked with sweat and sticking to Steve’s skin, rode up with the motion and showed off a freckled and scarred strip of Steve’s midriff. Eddie wanted to lick the skin that was revealed, taste the salt of Steve’s sweat, make his own marks and leave it shiny with his spit. When Steve lowered his arms, the shirt stayed lifted where it was stuck to his skin.

Eddie quickly diverted his gaze as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course. Should I get like a bowl? Or we might have a spray bottle kicking around,” Eddie said thoughtfully, rubbing the back of his neck. He jumped when Steve let out a loud bark of laughter.

“Or, I was thinking you could just hop into your shower real quick?” Steve suggested, crowding his space just enough that Eddie could practically taste the salt of his sweat. It was unreal just how much Eddie was obsessed with Steve’s fucking scent, just the smell of clean skin, sweat, and cologne. It never failed to fill Eddie’s head with thoughts of how he’d smell during other activities.

That thought alone had Eddie jolting back with a nervous laugh that came out too loud to pass off as casual. Oh well, he’d just roll with it. “Right! Of course, shower. You’re right,” Eddie said with another loud laugh, giving himself a self-deprecating eye-roll.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest with a little smirk. “Make sure you use that new shampoo I got you, and the conditioner—”

“Yep, got it, Stevie,” Eddie interrupted quickly, his heart skipping a beat at remembering the gifted haircare products that Steve had seemed almost nervous about giving to him. It had been a lot, and Eddie knew it had cost a lot, but Steve insisted he have all of it.

“I mean that leave-in stuff, the mask—” Steve started again, following him out of the room, and Eddie paused in the hallway to raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wanna join me? Just to make sure I wash my hair properly?” Eddie asked blandly, and he was legitimately impressed that he was able to deliver that line so smoothly. The thought of Steve joining him in an enclosed space while naked was something Eddie usually only indulged in when he was alone and in his bed.

The comment had Steve stopping in his tracks, his mouth clicking shut as he glanced away from Eddie. It was… not unexpected, necessarily, but it also wasn’t the scoff and eye-roll Eddie’s smartass comments usually garnered. Fear gripped Eddie as he realized he might have fucked up, that he said too much and all the rumors from high school clicked into place.

“Welp! I’ll be right back,” Eddie said, too quick and too loud, before spinning on a heel and disappearing into the small bathroom of the trailer. Hopefully, he could figure out a good excuse for inviting his friend into the shower with him with minimal freaking out.

Steve wasn’t sure just how long he stood outside the bathroom door just listening to the water running while his brain came back online after Eddie’s comment.

The thought of joining Eddie in the tiny stall had Steve’s head full of heat and static, and a very large part of himself was tempted to say, “screw it” and do just that. It was easy to imagine it, crowding Eddie against the wall and slotting their hips together, getting each other off in a frantic, hungry frenzy. Without really meaning to, Steve’s thoughts wandered further, his daydream shifting to imagine Eddie on his knees, his smart mouth occupied while Steve buried his hands in those curls he was obsessed with. Then his mind supplied him a very vivid fantasy of his cock sinking into a different tight heat—

Sucking in a sharp inhale, Steve shook his head and quickly went back to Eddie’s room. He couldn’t just stand there in the middle of the Munson trailer getting a hard-on while listening to Eddie shower. There had to be something to do with manners or whatever. And as much as he wanted to go into that bathroom—he was invited, right?—he wouldn’t because he was working really hard on giving Eddie the space he needed, waiting for Eddie to finally act on what they both felt.

Because they both felt it, right? Steve definitely thought so most of the time, with all of Eddie’s shy smiles and delighted giggles whenever Steve made a joke, or the way he would lean into Steve’s hands when he’d accept a massage, or the way those big brown eyes would watch Steve’s mouth sometimes rather than meet his gaze while he talked. But then, when Eddie would deliver his flirtatious little lines, they would come out flat, sarcastic almost. Some sort of tone that was so deliberately uncaring, it threw Steve off completely.

What did it mean when someone so animated and vibrant turned so flat? Was that just how Eddie flirted? Part of him was convinced that was the case, and Steve just had to get used to Eddie’s style, because he knew how Eddie felt, had known at least somewhat for months now.

Steve found out back when Eddie had just barely woken up from his coma and was so high on pain medications, it was doubtful he really registered that he had company, let alone what he was saying to them. It made for some really funny moments that had Steve wishing he had some way to record them.

Then one day, Steve had been helping Wayne while he practiced redressing Eddie’s healing injuries. Mostly, Steve’s job was to keep Eddie sitting up and make sure his hands stayed put and didn’t get in his uncle’s way. When the bandages were pulled away from the stitched-together skin of his midriff, Eddie looked down with an exaggerated grimace.

“What the fuck, I lost three tattoos and a nipple?” Eddie whined, like he always did when the bandages came off. Steve usually just snorted and listened to his complaints, but there was something extra to Eddie’s tone that he didn’t like.

“I mean, yeah, but you’re gonna have sick scars, dude,” Steve said with a winning smile when Eddie lifted his pout to look at him. Winking, Steve added, “Chicks dig scars, the whole bad boy look. Seriously, trust me.”

“If you say so,” Eddie sighed, still pouting dejectedly, and Steve frowned. Then Eddie said, “Don’t really care what girls like, though.”

At the time, Steve didn’t really register the way Wayne had fumbled the roll of medical tape, too caught up in getting Eddie to smile again. “Of course, you don’t,” Steve teased, winking at Eddie.

Eddie giggled. “Stop that, why are you winking? You look dumb,” he laughed, and Steve felt like he'd won something. Still smiling, his dimples out in full force, Eddie leaned closer to his face and asked, “What about dudes, though?”

The hospital room went very quiet as Wayne sucked in a sharp breath. Steve just blinked at Eddie, their eyes locked while he processed the question slowly. “What?” he asked dumbly after a few moments.

“I think that’s enough of this conversation—” Wayne started to say.

“I said!” Eddie interjected loudly, glaring almost childishly at his uncle before his attention returned to Steve. “What about dudes? Men? Boys? What do they think of scars?”

It was a bit embarrassing how long it still took for the dots to connect for Steve, but once they did, he blushed and glanced at Wayne nervously. The man was watching Steve with that hawkish stare of his and Steve had to look away. He could still feel Wayne’s stare burning holes into the side of his head and God he just hoped this wasn’t the first Wayne was hearing about this, too.

“Y-yeah, dudes dig scars, too,” he finally stammered out, meeting Eddie’s gaze once again. Eddie was squinting at him almost suspiciously, so Steve added a quiet, “A lot.”

Eddie’s expression split back into his goofy grin and Steve’s stomach did a little somersault. “What about you, big boy?” he pushed, his tone strange as if he had attempted to purr or something. If the moment wasn’t so whatever this was, Steve would’ve laughed.

“What about me?” Steve asked stupidly. He knew exactly what Eddie was asking.

With the biggest eye roll, Eddie asked, “Do you like scars, Stevie?”

That was the question of the century, at least it was for Steve, because the moment it left Eddie’s mouth, three things immediately clicked into place in Steve’s head.

The first being that yes, Steve was absolutely into scars. He didn’t have much experience really seeing scars on anyone else other than himself, but he still knew. The second was that he knew he was going to like Eddie’s scars, a part of him liking that some of their scars would match even. And third, there was a part of him that was hungry, possessive even, at the thought of Eddie with scars— especially Eddie with scars that matched his.

“Y-yeah, Eds, I like scars,” he managed to say, but he was nearly bowled over at the intensity of Eddie’s grin when it widened even further.

“Do you think they’re sexy?” Eddie asked, and Wayne sucked his teeth.

“Boys—”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve answered, taking a page from Eddie’s book and trying to ignore Wayne. It was a little hard to do when the man was packing up the gauze and medical tape quickly.

Eddie’s grin shifted into a smirk as he leaned so close to Steve’s face. “How sexy—?”

A surprisingly big and strong hand fell heavily on Steve’s shoulder, startling him.

“Alright, boys, that’s quite enough,” Wayne said sternly, and Eddie just laid back on the bed and giggled loudly up at the ceiling. Steve’s stomach had felt squeamish, especially when Wayne’s eyes met his with something fierce and angry in them. “Harrington, a word outside. Now.”

Steve did not waste time standing up and following Wayne out to the hall. The man kept walking, so Steve silently followed until Wayne led them to the stairs. Once the door behind them shut, Wayne spun and pinned Steve with a hard stare.

“Sir—”

“No, you’re going to listen to me, Harrington,” Wayne interrupted, and Steve’s mouth snapped shut with a loud click. Once he was satisfied that Steve would keep his mouth shut, Wayne nodded once and in a low, dangerous voice he said, “Now, you’re not going to repeat a damn word that you just heard in there. If I catch even a whisper of what he said—”

“I won’t,” Steve interjected, grimacing when Wayne’s expression darkened. “Please, just—he’s not the first friend I’ve had that’s—I would never do that, okay?”

Wayne’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “He’s too high for his own good right now, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying,” he said, his tone almost challenging and Steve glanced away. The thought of Eddie saying all of that, implying all that he had but not meaning any of it? It hurt a lot more than it probably should have, given that Steve only realized his feelings for Eddie specifically less than ten minutes ago.

When Steve managed to meet Wayne’s eyes again, his expression was far less suspicious, more thoughtful than anything. “Don’t bring any of this up unless Eddie does, got it?” he eventually said, and Steve began to protest.

Selfishly, he wanted to clear up whether Eddie meant it as soon as possible, to hear Eddie repeat all of it and fill in the gaps. He wanted to hear Eddie say he thought scars were hot too, that Steve’s scars were hot.

“Sir—”

“Listen, Steve, I know my boy and I know he doesn’t do well when he feels cornered. Even if you go in gentle, he’s gonna lash out and probably say something that cuts down to the quick,” Wayne pushed sternly, and Steve shut his mouth with a small nod. “You can take my advice or not, up to you, but I promise you it will not end well if you push.”

Steve was tempted to go against Wayne’s advice, to just clear everything up the moment Eddie was properly lucid again. But then he thought about possibly losing Eddie when he had a chance at something, that he could blow that chance because he was impatient and pushy. There was no way that Steve would take that risk, so he begrudgingly did as Wayne told him; he didn’t bring it back up, and he didn’t push Eddie to bring it up himself.

Still, Steve decided to show Eddie that his feelings were reciprocated; he flirted and teased, offered physical affection and helped him out as often as he could, cooked for him and Wayne and kept him company. He spent weeks just trying to show Eddie that he wanted him, too. That Eddie could finally close the distance between them, and he wouldn’t be turned away.

Then one day when Eddie and Steve had been grabbing something to eat after their monthly check-up with the government doctors, some hick had spat something vile and cruel as they passed their table. Eddie made a crude gesture back at them, looking all the world like he didn’t give a shit what they thought, but the moment the asshole was gone he deflated.

“I fucking hate it here. Can’t wait to get the fuck out,” Eddie grumbled, and Steve’s chest squeezed. He hadn’t considered that Eddie would want to leave, which he immediately realized was stupid. Eddie hadn’t been treated well by the town his whole life, and things had only gotten worse since spring break. Of course, Eddie wanted out.

“You’re leaving us, Munson?” Steve asked as he tossed a couple of fries into his mouth.

Eddie sighed, shrugged. “No plans yet. Probably wouldn’t anyway,” he said with a heavy, put-upon sigh.

“Why not? What could possibly be keeping you here?” Steve asked with a grand gesture at the diner around them, though he was obviously meaning the whole town.

Eddie glanced at him, cheeks turning pink, before he looked away and cleared his throat. “People,” he eventually said with another shrug, and Steve was positive he saw Eddie’s eyes glance over at him again as he said it.

“Oh,” Steve thought, his heart hurting at the thought of being part of the reason Eddie was staying in a town that despised him. At the same time, he felt like flying, the knowledge that he was enough of a good reason to stick around. Or, he was at least one of the good reasons.

“You shouldn’t make your decisions based on other people,” Steve said after a minute. “I’m sure they’d understand if you left.”

“They would. Definitely would,” Eddie agreed with a hollow little laugh. “I wouldn’t make it a day out there alone, though.”

Without even thinking about it, Steve asked, “Then why don’t you ask if they’d go with you?”

Eddie laughed out loud at that, but it was a hollow and almost bitter sound, his big brown eyes rolling. “Yeah, right. Believe me, Stevie,” he said in a low tone, meeting Steve’s eyes so pointedly, it felt like a challenge. “No one’s gonna wanna run away with me, not really.”

So, Steve started putting out hints that he wasn’t planning on staying in Hawkins forever, that he was looking for one good reason to leave, that he would run if Eddie just said so. He started mentioning trying to go to college again, looking at schools elsewhere, as far away from Hawkins, Indiana as possible while staying in the country; throwing in comments about getting an apartment big enough for himself and at least one roommate. Steve always talked about his plans to or around Eddie, and sometimes he would respond and play along before slipping into that deliberately deadpan flirtation.

It was confusing and felt like he was getting nowhere most of the time. Sometimes, though, Eddie would seem so close to taking down the walls around him, to bringing up his feelings, the conversation from the hospital, anything that would finally end Steve’s waiting. At the same time, Steve would wait forever if the alternative was potentially driving Eddie away.

Steve was happy enough with just Eddie’s friendship, even if that was the only type of relationship he would have.

“That’s a mighty serious face you’ve got on, Harrington.”

Jumping, Steve looked over at Eddie as he returned to the bedroom and immediately had to look away.

Eddie was wearing only a pair of boxers, squeezing his hair out with his towel as he wandered closer to where Steve was sitting on the bed. Glancing back at Eddie, Steve looked at the scars that covered his torso, how many of them matched his own, but then there were the scars over his chest and up the thick column of Eddie’s throat. There was nothing Steve wanted more in that moment than to put his mouth and tongue on every single twisted patch of skin.

As Eddie approached and tossed his towel onto the bed, Steve realized he had slipped the handle of a comb into the waistband of his boxers, the line of it following his happy trail. It captivated Steve’s attention for just a few moments too long because suddenly Eddie was standing directly in front of him and clearing his throat.

Looking up at Eddie’s face quickly, Steve smiled weakly at his raised eyebrow. His expression was strange, like he was unimpressed, but it was pinched, almost forced. Eddie’s eyes were wide and bright, and maybe it was just Steve’s own feelings, but there was an almost hopeful look behind them.

“You okay, Steve?” he asked, and Steve nodded quickly, grabbing the comb out of Eddie’s waistband. His fingertips brushed the smooth skin of Eddie’s lower abdomen and Steve was very interested in the way Eddie took a shuddering breath at the contact.

“Yeah, I’m perfect. Just admiring the view,” Steve said with a little smirk. Eddie’s blush was brilliant and the way the corner of his mouth twitched up had Steve’s heart soaring.

Then the hint of a smile turned… cold? It wasn’t mean, but it wasn’t the cute, bashful smile Steve had hoped he’d get.

“Of course, you are, big boy,” Eddie shot back flatly before rolling his eyes and crawling onto the bed, and something sour settled in Steve’s gut. “How do you want me for this, Steve?”

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Steve leaned back against the wall at the head of Eddie’s bed and patted the space between his legs. “Right here, I guess. Or if you want, you can sit on the floor, and I can braid your hair like that?”

At that, Eddie actually scoffed and threw him a raised eyebrow. “You want me on my knees with your hands in my hair, Harrington?” he asked coolly, his knowing smirk very close to something Steve recognized, but on someone else’s face. Then Eddie did that eyeroll of his and something clicked in Steve’s mind, and he barely registered when Eddie said, “I’ll sit in front of you like this.”

Steve just nodded and muttered quiet instructions for Eddie to move his head here and there as he braided Eddie’s hair—he was doing something Max called a Dutch braid because he thought it would be more Eddie’s style than a French braid—but his mind was stuck on the sarcasm, the eyeroll, the flat flirtation.

It reminded him of Carol but not quite. He could just remember all the times she would have some poor sap following her around, trying to get in her good graces, and the way she would flirt before rolling her eyes to Tommy and him. She would laugh at the boys as they walked away, and most of the time Steve could tell that they never realized she was making fun of them.

Once Steve made that association, it forcibly knocked everything that happened between him and Eddie into a new perspective. God, of course just because Eddie was into men didn’t mean he would be into Steve, and here he had been so fucking obvious and pushy with his crush. He was pushy, overbearing, and apparently couldn’t take the very obvious hints that Eddie had been throwing him all along.

And in hindsight, it was very obvious, Steve just never saw it because he thought Eddie wasn’t like that. Steve thought he actually found someone who wanted him as much as he wanted them, found someone who was direct and vocal about what they did and did not want. In the end, Steve never considered that Eddie might be just as petty as other people he knew, that he would be like everyone else who made fun of him for not keeping up. For having to be told everything out loud and in detail. For not taking hints, reading body language, and being too damn much.

Hurt settled deep in Steve’s core, but it was tangled up in an anger so fierce he had to work hard not to accidentally pull Eddie’s hair. The kids had a grace period for being shitty to him, but adults like Eddie? Absolutely not. He'd put up with too much for too long to take it without calling it out, especially if that’s what was happening.

Steve would rather admit his feelings and ruin their entire friendship forever rather than continue something where he was just the butt of another joke he wasn’t in on.

As he reached the end of the braid, Steve realized he didn’t actually have anything to tie it off, but he could see a hair tie on the bedside table. Leaning over, Steve accidentally yanked on Eddie’s braid, and he hissed.

“Damn, Steve, you haven’t even asked for my safeword yet,” Eddie flirted before chuckling as Steve tied off the braid, and something hot and angry flared in his gut and he opened his mouth to tell Eddie to fuck off.

“Are you making fun of me?” Steve asked instead, and he cringed at how embarrassingly small and sad his voice sounded.

The anger that was simmering in his gut was immediately doused by the hurt. It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped over Steve’s head and all he had left was the grasping, gnawing want for someone he apparently would never get to have. Suddenly he was standing in a bathroom at a loud Halloween party all over again while the person he loved called him bullshit and said they didn’t love him and never did, and he just wanted to scream about it. Part of Steve wanted to hit something, but he worked very hard to not be that person anymore, so he just balled his fists up in his lap.

“W-what?”

Steve didn’t even realize he was blinking up at the ceiling until he was returning his gaze to Eddie’s face, and the naked confusion Steve saw there was almost comforting.

“Are you making fun of me?” Steve repeated, this time a bit more firmly. “If you’re not—if you’re not interested in me, just say so.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Steve—what?” he asked haltingly, and Steve just ran his hands back through his hair.

“C’mon, Eds, I’m—fuck, Eddie, I’ve been trying so hard to follow Wayne’s advice and give you space, and do what I can to show you I’m—I want you so much and I thought you wanted me, too, but you’re just—” Steve stopped himself as his eyes stung with tears and he pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “If you aren’t actually interested like I thought, just tell me. I don’t think I can take you laughing at me behind my back, too.”

“Stevie—” Eddie started, but the nickname hit Steve deep and he let out a shaky sob.

“Shit,” he said, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, fighting back the tears. Steve didn’t want to cry at all, but especially not in front of Eddie while he wasn’t certain that he wasn’t being laughed at.

Cool hands were on Steve’s cheeks and a weight settled across his lap. “Stevie, please, can you look at me?” And of course, Steve couldn’t deny him anything, even now.

Dropping his hands and tipping his head back against the wall, Steve looked up at Eddie and willed his tears away. Eddie was a lot closer than Steve expected, even knowing the man was in his lap and holding his face gently.

“I think I’ve been missing something because I didn’t—shit, Stevie, I didn’t know,” Eddie insisted earnestly, his rich brown eyes huge as he searched Steve’s face. “I’ve been fucking… I don’t know, pining for you for months, Stevie. Maybe even years, I don’t know, just—”

“I know,” Steve said miserably, his confusion mingling with his hurt in a nauseating mixture in his stomach, turning his eyes skyward as a tear fell. Eddie immediately caught it with his thumb and wiped it away.

“You know?” Eddie asked, his voice tight and Steve nodded, pinching his nose a bit and sucking in a sharp breath.

“Y-yeah, in the hospital, we talked about scars being hot, and you asked me if I would think your scars are hot—Wayne stopped the conversation,” Steve explained around a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to scare you off, so I just—I was hoping you would see that I feel the same way and finally say something.”

“Steve, I’m so sorry, I don’t—I literally don’t remember a lot of the hospital,” Eddie admitted, and Steve laughed.

“Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out,” he said with a sigh, chewing on his lip as he returned his gaze to Eddie’s face. “If you feel the same, why’ve you been pushing me away?”

“Because I’m a coward, Steve. I was running away,” Eddie replied with an explosive sigh, stroking Steve’s cheeks with both thumbs.

“Don’t say you’re a coward, because you’re not,” Steve argued fiercely, hating the way Eddie talked about himself. His interjection just seemed to make Eddie sadder.

“Listen, Steve, I don’t know how much you’ve experienced as a dude into other dudes in a small town like this, but I just—I don’t act on vague gestures, Steve,” he said, and Steve frowned as confusion swirled. “I can’t act on that shit if I want to keep my head from being caved in by angry hicks, okay?”

And that… well, that stung, and Steve felt a moment of frustration at himself for feeling that way. It made sense that Eddie would be afraid; Steve knew exactly what sort of attitudes Eddie would be up against in a town like Hawkins if they knew, or what would happen if Eddie flirted with the wrong guy based on a misunderstanding. Steve got it.

But Steve wasn’t just some guy, he was Eddie’s friend. They almost died multiple times together, Steve helped nurse him back to health. He thought they were close, that Eddie knew he was at least safe to be himself around, even if he didn’t want to be with him.

“Steve?” Eddie pressed, sounding nervous.

Taking a deep breath, Steve nodded a bit. “Th-that makes sense,” he agreed after a few moments, giving a bit of a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just—I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he asked, his huge eyes wide as Steve met his gaze again.

“For whatever I did that made you feel like I would maybe hurt you,” Steve said with a one-shouldered shrug. “I know I was shitty about this in high school, but I thought I’d turned—”

“Steve, fuck, no! That’s not—shit, okay, start over,” Eddie groaned loudly, tipping his head back to whine a bit. “Jesus H Christ, I hate talking about my feelings. This is so fucking hard.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve teased with a chuckle.

“Can you actually close your eyes and not look at me for this, Stevie? I just—I need to say a bunch of shit and I don’t think I can do that with you looking at me,” he confessed after a few moments of silent thinking.

Without hesitation, Steve closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall. “Eyes are closed, not looking at you,” he said quietly and waited.

“I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t hurt me if you found out I was gay, Steve. But there’s—there would be no way to know for sure unless you found out and that not knowing was fucking terrifying,” Eddie said in a rush, and Steve could feel the way he began to shake. “And then there’s—there are guys who say they’re okay with it, but the moment they find out you have feelings for them that’s—the thought that you might be fine with me being gay, but not about my ridiculous crush… I couldn’t risk it.”

Steve could hear the heavy weight of history there, that Eddie wasn’t just talking about a hypothetical scenario he created in his head but a real memory, something formative and traumatic. His heart ached with how badly he wanted to soothe that pain so Eddie never felt like he couldn’t love someone loudly ever again. Of course, he wanted to ask about it, if only because he wanted to know everything about Eddie, and Steve could guess that he would tell him, regardless of how uncomfortable it would make him. That was also a conversation that could happen another time.

Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s hips, rubbing his thumbs up and down the spurs of his hips. A soft smile came over his face when Eddie jumped at his touch, and Steve sighed with relief when Eddie leaned into it.

“That makes a lot of sense actually,” Steve said, squeezing Eddie’s hips. Then, tentatively, he asked, “Can I hold you?”

Eddie let out a sound that was mostly a sob, but Steve could hear the word ‘yes’ tangled up in it so he quickly wrapped his arms around Eddie and held him tight against his chest. It was still oppressively hot, and they were both sweating, and honestly the way any bare skin that was showing stuck together was unpleasant, but that was alright. It was perfect, because Eddie was in his arms and Steve knew he returned his feelings.

“Can I ask you something, Steve?” Eddie asked as he rested their foreheads together.

“Go ahead,” Steve said instantly, his eyes still closed.

“Why did you think I was making fun of you?” Eddie asked nervously.

Grimacing, Steve shrugged. “I didn’t think you were until today, honestly. It was just—you started rolling your eyes today,” he responded, his mouth twisting. “It reminded me of something someone else would do when she was making fun of guys who had a crush on her.”

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie said softly and the hands still holding Steve’s cheeks didn’t let him shake his head. “No, don’t, it’s—shit, Steve, I should’ve just not flirted with you. Really tried to have my cake and eat it too with all that.”

Steve let out a bark of laughter, squeezing his arms around Eddie even tighter. Eddie practically melted against him, and Steve desperately wanted to look at him again.

“Eds, can I open my eyes now?” Steve asked and, at Eddie’s little nod, he blinked his eyes open. With Eddie’s forehead against his, their faces were way too close, and Steve felt himself go cross-eyed trying to meet Eddie’s gaze. Laughing, Eddie moved to pull back, but Steve lifted a hand to hold the back of his head, keeping him close as he glanced down at Eddie’s lips.

“Steve?” Eddie asked quietly, his voice soft and tentative, almost unsure.

Sighing, Steve leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s lips as he asked, “Can I kiss you, Eds?”

There was a moment where Eddie tensed, and Steve was getting ready to apologize when those perfect hands slid further back to tangle in his hair. “Want you to know I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he admitted quietly, and something warm and fond bubbled up in Steve’s chest. “Just because I might suck.”

Steve just smiled and shook his head. “You’ll be perfect, I know you will,” he hummed before guiding Eddie’s lips to his own.

[ TBC ]

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Taglist! @patchworkgargoyle @scarcrossdlvrs @steddieas-shegoes @steve-harringtits @mylilplanet @afewproblems @xenon-demon @steddie-there @inairbinad @matchingbatbites @starryeyedjanai @scoops-stevie @vecnuthy @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @rugbertgoeshome @estrellami-1 @spectrum-spectre @stobinesque @spicysix @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @sentient-trash @legitcookie @theheadlessphilosopher @corrodedbisexual

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Actions and Consequences

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: implied sex (between reader and ex-boyfriend) past boyfriend being rough and mean to reader, eating, official set up of dynamic and rules, a little bit of spicy for you guys 💋(hint)

7 Years Ago

“Two more weeks… I can’t believe it.” Y/n sighs, leaning her head against the shoulder of the boy laying beside her. He smiles, passing a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down her static hair.

“We’re going to be graduates… fuck it’s crazy.” She cranes her neck, smiling as she meets green eyes. He leans forward, pecking her lips quickly. “Alright, let me up. My moms gonna be home soon.” Y/n rolls over, taking the black sheet with her as he climbs out of bed, searching for his shorts.

“Good, I need to help her finish the desserts for your party tomorrow.” After months of hopping from one house to the next, Y/n has finally been able to settle into the guest bedroom of her boyfriend’s family home with what little belongings she owns. She sits up, letting the sheet fall around her hips as she snags her t-shirt and leggings off the floor.

“Oh yeah? What y’all making?” He tugs on his tank top, running his hand through his spiky blond hair as he eyes the naked expanse of her back.

Y/n shrugs, pulling on her shirt before slipping into her leggings. “Um I think a lemon cake.” The young man flops onto the bed and she laughs, laying back down beside him, her fingers twining together to rest over her stomach.

“I do like lemon.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Trust me, everyone knows Trever.” He nudges her with his elbow and she laughs, a joy filled sound she’s finally getting use to.

“God, I can’t wait, finally get out of high school and we can just… do whatever. Well I mean I’ve got collage next fall but still.” Trever sighs blissfully before turning to look at his girlfriend. “Gonna come be my secret roommate? Get me in all kinds of trouble.”

“You wish,” Y/n scoffs, nudging him back. “You know my classes start a semester before yours.” Trever stays silent for a moment, Y/n staring up at the ceiling unaware of the change in his once easy expression.

“You’re still serious about that?” The question catches her off guard, her head turning to look at him. His face is pinched, like he can’t believe her. Y/n sits up, turning to face him fully.

“Y-yeah… Trever I’ve been serious about this. It’s the whole reason I work three jobs and bust my ass in school every week.”

He pushes himself up, leaning against his head board. “Look, babe, I’m not trying to be mean here but… do you really think you can do it? You’re talking about the FBI here… they don’t just take anyone. Especially…” He hesitates and her temper flares, her eyes narrowing.

“Especially, what?”

Sighing he gestures to her with a splayed hand, “Ya know… little country girls who don’t really know what they are doing. If you really want to work somewhere that makes you feel like you’re making a difference, why not go for something you’re almost guaranteed a job?” His expression shifts like he’s had the most brilliant idea, ignoring the obvious hurt growing across Y/n’s features. “911 dispatcher! You won’t even have to waste your money on-.”

“Fuck you.” She spits, standing and marching from the room, anger filling her chest to the point it almost hurts.

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that!” Trever follows her out into the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulder as they reach the top of the stairs. She spins and shoves him, but he plants his feet, gripping her painfully by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again. Not in my goddamn house. You’re lucky my parents are even letting you stay here and you’re gonna act like that?” He shakes her harshly, her teeth slamming together making pain shoot up her jaw.

“At least your parents fucking believe in me! Your moms the one that paid off the rest of my entrance fee last week!” She struggles against him, her hands pushing at his chest but his fingers dig into her muscles. His face reddens but before he can say anything the front door swings open. A short, black haired woman stares up at them in confusion, her mouth open slightly.

Trever steps back quickly and Y/n moves down the stairs, keeping her eyes on her so-called boyfriend. “What is going on? I could hear you screaming from the front porch.” She closes the door behind her, her many bracelets tinkling with the movement as she sets her purse down on the landing.

“Nothing, Mrs. Dwayne.” Y/n says quietly, moving down the stairs until she is beside the woman. “I need to go to work…”

“I thought you were going to bake with me dear?” The sad look that passes across the older woman’s brown eyes makes Y/n’s throat constrict, that hated feeling of pinpricks forming in her nose. In the past five months of her relationship with Trever, Mrs. Dwayne has been nothing short of a mother figure to Y/n. Teaching her to cook, to clean, showing her the basic skills of life without so much as a disgruntled look. She didn’t want to hurt her now.

“I-I will.. I mean I am… I just. I need to go get something for work, I mean. I’ll be back.” Before Mrs. Dwayne or Trever can say a word Y/n is bolting out the front door, towards her run down car, rage and devastation simmering in her chest so heavily she can’t think anymore. The need to be anywhere but here propelling the car into motion.

She wouldn’t break down here, not where anyone could find her, when she’s alone she’ll let the tears run freely and her sobs fill the empty space around her.

Present Day

The rest of Tuesday had crept by silently, nothing like the first half of the day. You had joined Aaron for dinner in the dining room, where he informed you he had a few conference calls to make in the morning and he would check on you when he was done. That was many hours ago.

You had been awake long before the sun rose behind charcoal clouds, listening to the rain pelt your window relentlessly. You sit propped against your pillows, lost in deep thought… shameful deep thoughts. Most of your night was spent tossing and turning, what little sleep you did get wasn’t filled with the usual empty darkness, or the occasional bad dream; instead Aaron had taken up every unconscious thought.

You had dreamt of his hands on your body, much like the day before, only this time there was even less in between his burning palms and your skin. You could feel the reverberation of unheard words from his chest into your back, his hands slipping up, up, up cupping your breasts through your bra. His hips ground against your back, the buckle of his belt biting into your skin as his erection pressed against the swell of your ass. Then his palm began to travel lower, straight to your-

You shake your head fiercely, before smothering yourself with a pillow, groaning loudly. You stay like that for a few long minutes, desperately trying to ignore the ache between your thighs until it becomes to much. Throwing the pillow across the room you climb out of bed and head straight for the bathroom, determined a scalding shower would set your mind right.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Steam billows out of the room after you, a scratchy towel wrapped tight around your body, another holding your hair in place atop your head. The skin along the tops of your shoulders and breasts glow pink, having used the hot water liberally. You make your way over to the bags you had placed on the floor last night, grabbing the closest one and rummaging through it.

Something smooth and soft slips against your hand and you grab it, pulling it free of the wadded up clothing. Realizing you should really organize everything before it all becomes a wrinkled mess. Dropping the bag you unfold a Champaign colored silk night gown. It’s simple, a trim of lace adorns the bodice and it reaches about the middle of your thighs, a small slit up both sides. You can’t remember Aaron ever placing it in the cart otherwise you’d of protested.

A large part of you doesn’t want to wear it, or any of the clothing for that matter. That part was called shame. Shame that he had so easily talked you into letting him buy you all of these clothes, better yet talked you into this whole mess in the first place.

But another part of you, the one that really did not want to wear the same sweats again for the 8th day in a row, won the battle. With a defeated sigh you change into the gown. It’s hugs your body, accentuate your curves and clinging to your damp skin. It’s soft, comfortable, and smells clean, that’s all that matters to you.

You grab your over night bag, pulling out your iPod and headphones before crawling back into bed. You set up your computer to finish working, before pressing play on the little pink device and popping in an ear bud. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand only once, but you ignore it, instead typing away on your computer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning slowly rolls into lunch, a half eaten croissant sandwich lays on your nightstand as you dutifully work, bobbing your head in time to the music.

‘What’s in your head, in your head? Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie-ie, oh’

Something connects with your door, the sound reverberating through the room making you scream. You rip out your ear bud, holding your breath as a series of knocks rattle your door, making your stomach swoop and drop all at once. Slowly you move from your bed to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open a crack. Aaron’s usual hard stare greets you, but his cheeks are tinged red, his lips pressed into a thin line. A shudder wracks through your body at the intensity of his stare, your palms feeling clammy against the door handle.

“Um… hi?” He doesn’t say a word as he wraps a hand around the door, forcing it open and you out of his way as he barges inside. “Hey!”he stops in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other rubs at his forehead. He’s dressed in a darker pair of blue jeans this time, paired with a black collard shirt, probably more appropriate for his conference calls.

“Does your phone not work, or have you just been-.” Aaron turns then and whatever annoyed tyrant he was about to go on dies on his tongue at the sight of you. You’re standing at the door, eyebrows raised and eyes a little wide in panic, but it’s not your expression that stops him. His eye dip to your body, noticing what you’re wearing and something in his stomach stirs at the sight. The dress is stretched around your body, specifically across your stomach, an indent where your belly button is. Your hips are accentuated and he realizes with a small thrill that the fabric is just barely see through as he gaze travels from your breasts to your face.

“Fuck.” He breaths out, and a shiver skirts down your spine at the rumble of his voice, blooming into something warm and fuzzy between your hips. Aaron slowly makes his way to you, and this time you stay rooted to the carpet, your chin lifting and the back of your head bumping against the door as he stops a few mere inches in front of you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Aaron reached up, dragging his knuckle across your spaghetti strap, brushing across your collarbone where it stops on the curve of your neck. He cups the side of your neck, half of his palm resting against your jaw as his thumb sweeps back and forth. That warm and fuzzy feeling has caught fire, burning with a demanding intensity that leaves you reeling.

“My… My phone?” You ask absently, anything to change the direction of what might happen, his dark eyes snap to yours and you wish you had never spoken, anger and lust swirl together in his irises, his pupils dilated.

“Your phone,” He repeats, head tilting slightly as if he couldn’t quite remember what he came here for. “Were you ignoring me?”

You shake your head, then rethink his question. “Well… no not outright. I was working and in my head space, I remember my phone going off a few times but I honestly didn’t think about it.”

Aaron can only find honesty in the doe eyed look you’re giving him. “That’s two, sweetheart. You need to be more attentive.” Your eyebrows furrow, your soft gaze shifting to something hard as you glare up at the older man.

“Be more attentive? If you really needed me you could of just called. I was busy doing work, I still am.” You snap, gesturing towards your bed. He keeps his hand firm on your neck as he turns, glancing at your open laptop and he can faintly hear your music playing. “And what do you mean by two? Why do you keep counting?”

His thumb presses against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head further back and the pressure makes you squirm. He turns back with a small smile, something impish laying behind it. Aaron ducks down closer and you go still, his breath fanning over your lips and you can smell the tingling scent of mint.

“I did. Twice in fact. I’m counting the amount of times you break your rules, how ever many that is will help us decide what your punishment will be.” Aaron watches the blush slowly form across your cheeks before it seeps down your neck underneath his hand. He would be a lier if he said the effect he was having on you didn’t go both ways.

“We didn’t agree on any punishments, and how can I break a rule I didn’t know about?” You utter, quietly, your eyes betraying you and dropping away from his stare. Aaron smirks, nodding as he smooths his hand down to your collarbone, feeling the wild thump of your heart through your skin.

“That’s why I’m here. We’re going to discuss everything. Over lunch.” He steps back leaving you glued to the door staring at him baffled. “What are you in the mood for? We’ll order something in instead of risking the weather.” And as if the sky could hear his wise judgment a roll of thunder shakes the building. You squeeze your eyes shut until the noise dies off and the only thing that can be heard is the rain splattering against the window once more.

Aaron watches you, gaining a new piece of information, before walking towards the nightstand where the muted green hotel phone lays. He notices your half eaten breakfast sandwich and mutters something you can’t quiet hear.

“Um.. pizza?”

“Pizza it is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Not long after a steaming pepperoni and sausage is sitting on your dresser. Aarons posted in the chair again and you’re perched on the foot of the bed, picking at the melted cheese glancing your boss’s way every now and again.

“You look like you have something you want to say.” Aaron says, taking a large bite of his slice. Your shoulder rises and falls, watching him openly now. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so… human. This is the same man you’ve witnessed stand his ground against men ready to kill, talk down others who are ready to end it all; protect his team with a fierceness that goes unmatched by any other. It’s hard to think of him as anything else besides SSA Hotchner, but right here… is just Aaron.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” You admit, biting into your lower lip. “Everything is just… it’s such a sudden change and hasn’t been easy to get use to.”

Aaron smile is pitying at best and you want to convince yourself you hate it. “I know baby. You’ll get there, though. We have the entire month to smooth everything out and come to understand each other better.” The loose use of different pet names makes your insides bubble with craved affection, shame tinting your skin. “Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“You do, at any point you can call it off, but you know exactly where that leads.” His tone is all to knowing of your decision and you huff, scrubbing your hands across your face. He takes your silence as reluctant agreeance, pulling out his phone. “Last night I came up with some rules, punishments and rewards that I think will suit you and I the best.” He taps away at his phone for a few seconds before continuing. “The first, simple, call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us. Second, don’t doubt me when I say I am buying you something or taking you somewhere. Money is not an issue. Third-.”

“Answer my phone at your beck and call?” The sarcastic question sort of fell from your lips, causing Aaron’s eyes to narrow as he sets his paper plate down on the pizza box.

“Third.” He emphasizes, drawing out the word. “Check in with me. I need to know you are okay, if you’ve made it where you are going, if there is anything you need. It’s important that you do so.”

“That’s going to be hard to do when we will be on cases and working.” You point out, picking apart your pizza and taking small bites of the greasy dough.

“That’s why all of these rules are moldable to how we live. Work is for work, but some things will still apply. Like making sure you are eating, drinking plenty of water, getting rest when you can. After hours, when it’s just us, I expect you to follow your rules completely.” He watches the way you pluck off the pepperonis, setting them off to the side. “Punishments won’t be a daily thing like it is with others. We can pick a day where we sit and go over everything you’ve done wrong for the week, then decide your punishment from there. I have a few ideas such as choosing your clothing for the week, have your write lines, have you kneel for an extended period of time.”

Your nose scrunches, the next thing your peeling from your pizza is the little balls of sausage. “That all sounds a bit childish.”

“You aren’t wrong. But you’d be surprised how childish a person can act when given rules.” You roll your eyes making him chuckle. “Just like that.” You shoot him a halfhearted glare that he returns with a smile. “But if you’ve been a brat all day, disobeying me and forgetting your rules multiple times, then I may need to resort to something a bit harsher. Putting you over my knee, bondage, collar.” He watches your face flush, eyes going wide like a full moon. “Even then. It’s more so about the embarrassment than it is ever about the pain. Some people find these things enjoyable.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Aaron’s smile takes on a more devious twist, letting his head rest against his fist as he props his arm on the chair. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out.”

You stare at him in shock, your half deconstructed pizza laying forgotten in your lap as your insides burn. Your mind betrays you, questions popping up like wildfires; what would it feel like? Would he leave marks on your skin? Would you enjoy it like he says?

Stammering you drop your gaze from his, his smile never fading as he searches the soft planes of your face, forcing himself not to look any lower than your exposed collarbones and the gentle slope of your shoulders. You set your plate to the side, crossing then uncrossing your legs, the bed creaking as you try to sort through your thoughts. “Can um… can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Does David know? And if so is there anyone else?”

Aaron nods, then quickly raises his hands at the look of panic crossing your features. “David is the only one who knows, and that’s not because I told him out right.” Your panic quickly melts into confusion. “David is the one who suggested I bring up a contract with you.”

Your jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted. “Wait.. David’s… he’s into this?” Aaron nods again, letting you piece together what you will with that crumb of information. “Oh… so… that means the two do you were talking about me.”

Aaron laughs, a deep pleasant sound. “I promise, it wasn’t anything like you might think. We are just worried, and he thought it would be more appropriate coming from me than him.” Despite his humor you can feel panic rising steadily in your chest.

“Ho- Aaron what if someone finds out?”

“There isn’t any reason for anyone to know.”

The iron grip of your blooming panic wraps itself around your throat, your body humming with a desperate need to move and open your lungs. You stand from the bed and begin to pace the small area, passing Aaron with each turn on your heel.

“What if one of us slips up? The amount of trouble we could get into is-it’s astronomical. I’d be forced out of my job because I’m suddenly a woman who sleeps with their boss. You would be forced to resign but of course they’ll go easy on you-.”

“Honey-.”

“-Even if it doesn’t get to that point, the entire team will see me differently. They will question the authenticity of my role and my job. Oh God, and Morgan would be relentless with the teasing.”

“Y/n.”

“He still calls me señorita after I messed up my order at that Mexican restaurant a month ago! He’d never let us-.” Aaron leans forward, capturing your wrist as you walk by with a sharp tug. Pain laces up your already tense muscles and on instinct you turn, your hand lashing out and connecting with the side of Aaron’s face.

Everything goes silent, both of you stuck staring at the other in shock. “I-I’m… I didn’t mean-.” Aaron pulls you down and you clumsily fall into him, knee banging against the chair; your free hand landing on his shoulder. Aaron wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing and before you can utter a word his lips crash into yours.

A muffled squeal escapes the back of your throat, squirming in his tight hold but it proves useless as his other hand drops your wrist, circling the back of your thigh and pulling you fully into his lap. Thighs caging his hips, chest pressed tight against his you squeeze your eyes shut. Aaron depends the kiss, moving his lips against yours allowing a few whimpering syllables to reach the air.

Your heart hammers painfully, your hands gripping at his shoulders but to your surprise you find your body relaxing. Every panicked thought is eclipsed by Aaron as his tongue slowly traces the seem of your lips, asking for entrance that you hesitantly give. But once you get your first taste of him you know you’re gone for, a soft moan rattles through your chest and Aaron devours it, licking into your mouth like a man starved.

His rough hand slips up your thigh, mindful to stay over your dress as it rides up, to cup your ass, squeezing the fat making your hips jump. The involuntary movement makes you grind down against him, pulling out another moan that is quickly followed by one of his own. He is all you can focus on, the fingers in your hair at the base of your skull, the growing bulge pressing into your heated core, the way the side of his nose bumps into yours. His thighs shift, sliding you further into his lap with a ragged groan.

Slowly, almost unwillingly you pull back, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. He gives you the silent moment you need, his fingers scratching your scalp slightly as you try to compose yourself atop him. He can’t stop the way his eyes roam to your lips though, the short taste of you forever imbedded in his brain.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open you meet his half lidded gaze, you lick your lips. “I-I need some time alone…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two hours later your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you glance at it from where you lay, curled up on your side in bed. Your fingers keep tracing your kiss swollen lips, unable to stop thinking about anything else. Grabbing your phone you roll onto your other side, opening your texts.

A new message from Aaron pops up, and your thumb hovers over the screen, your stomach churning with anticipation. Clicking the screen a long message pulls up.

‘Let me know what you want to change, my sweet girl.’

A smile tugs at your lips without your permission, cheeks reddening as you read over the list of rules, rewards, and punishments that follow. At the very end, boldened followed by a question mark is the word:

‘Spanking?’

You take a deep breath, sealing your fate with a few clicks of your keyboard.

Thank you all for the amount of love this has received 😭 I can’t wait to continue writing the rest of this story. Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife

[patchworkgargoyle]

Fort Munson 🌿

For Lex's Spicy Six Summer Fanworks Challenge, based on the dialogue prompt: "That’s the most elaborate treehouse I’ve ever seen." Thanks for putting all this together @thefreakandthehair! Rating: G or T (for swearing) || CW: none. || Words: ~3.8k On Ao3 Here~

Heat sat stagnant and cloying inside Eddie’s room where he and Steve lay sprawled on the floor. Eddie had said that heat rises, so they’d migrated from the bed to the worn-in carpet, and now starfished there silently. Steve could feel the stickiness of sweat on his forehead. If there were a breeze coming in through the open window it’d be fine, but all that filtered in were the high, raspy sounds of crickets and cicadas.

Could they go to Steve’s, where the AC wasn’t busted for another week until the repair guy could come out to fix it? Yeah. Sure. It was homey at the trailer, comforting. Warm. So fucking warm. He sighed, and swore his own breath was cooler than the air surrounding them. But Steve would rather stay here with Eddie than be home alone. Lately he’d rather hang out with Eddie than do most other things, other than hang out with Robin. 

She’d teased him for it, of course, when Steve told her about his crush on Eddie. Said he’d gotten a crush on a boy that looked like a mop, scrawny and all hair, and being offended on Eddie’s behalf he shoved her off the couch. Well, he’d meant to just push her, but her balance was terrible and down she toppled. After she’d gotten over her surprise, and their swearing and giggling and retaliatory slapping had calmed down, Robin told him, “I’m excited for you, Steve,” with a sappy grin. He’d just shrugged and tried to hide his own bashful smile.

So when Eddie asked yesterday if Steve would want to spend his day off at his place, his expressive, gorgeous brown eyes sparkling, there was no way Steve would turn him down. Even if it was so hot Steve felt he’d start melting into the floor.

“This sucks.”

Steve craned his neck to look at Eddie, who was frowning up at the ceiling. His bangs had gone a little stringy. “Huh?” Steve said.

“This heat, it fucking sucks dude. This isn’t hanging out.” His arm raised to lazily flail between them both then flopped loudly to the floor again. A different kind of warmth sparked up Steve’s arm when their pinkies touched, and Steve concentrated very hard on not flinching or hooking their fingers together. “This is dying. Slowly. Uneventfully. I feel like a slow roasted chicken.”

Humming, Steve said, “Yeah.”

Finally Eddie’s head tilted to the side, facing Steve. An amused smile tugged the corner of his lips down and now Steve had to concentrate on not looking. “Sounds like the heat’s melted your brains, big boy. I can see ‘em leaking out your ears.”

It’s more than just the heat, Steve wanted to say, opened his mouth and nearly let the words escape, but he caught himself with a breathy laugh. “I think you’re right,” he replied instead.

“‘Cause I’m always right.”

Steve just raised a doubtful eyebrow. It climbed higher when Eddie stuck his tongue out.

“Well I’m right about this sucking. C’mon, I’ve got an idea.” Eddie slapped his thighs and bolted upright, rolling to his feet with surprising ease while Steve peeled himself off the carpet with much less gusto and a lot more complaining.

“You’re seriously making us move right now?” he grumbled as he stood. But he heard Eddie groan and before he realised, Steve’s hands shot out to stabilise him as he wobbled.

“Shouldn’t’ve got up so fast,” he said sheepishly.

Still holding Eddie by the shoulders, Steve snorted. “You think?” He held onto Eddie just shy of too long before letting his hands drop. “Alright, you made me get up, this better be worth it.”

“Oh it’s worth it.” Eddie winked, then led them out of the trailer–only pausing to lock up–and instead of heading to one of their vehicles he started down the road towards the dead end.

While the heat out here wasn’t as stale, it almost felt worse, the sun bearing down on them directly. The road behind them shimmered with that faint heat mirage and Steve could feel it through the soles of his sneakers. “Pretty sure this sucks worse, Eddie.”

Eddie spun on his heel and started walking backwards. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked, a coy tip to his chin.

With his life. But Steve wouldn’t say that, either. “I dunno, Munson. You’re leading me into the woods, alone, no witnesses? Kinda suspicious of you.”

“I am offended, Steve, how could you say such a thing to me, of all people?” He clutched his chest and dramatically threw his head back, only to stumble when the asphalt gave way to dirt and sparse grass. Steve jolted to try and catch him, but Eddie recovered quickly, grinning widely. “See, could a suspicious guy do that?”

Steve laughed, a little baffled. “Nah, now you’re just a klutz.”

“At least I can trust you to try and catch me, Stevie.”

The fondness Steve thought he heard in Eddie’ voice would’ve made him blush if the heat hadn’t done that already. They held each other’s gaze, standing close, just a moment in time that stretched out like a plucked guitar string left to ring. Eddie cut it off with a nod to the woods. Steve was helpless, and couldn't do anything but follow.

Grasshoppers lived up to their name, hopping through the brittle, sun bleached grass as they avoided the boys’ careless feet. Steve watched a few cling to Eddie’s bare calves before he shook them off. When they’d gotten a few feet into the treeline, the leaves above sheltered them on their walk. The shade was desperately needed. He felt like he could breathe again, even if it wasn’t all that much cooler, but he still took a moment to stretch his arms up over his head and inhale the greenness of sun-warmed leaves. Steve let his arms fall again with a small, satisfied groan, pulling the hem of his shirt back into place, and saw Eddie staring. “What?”

Eddie swallowed, then shrugged. “Told you it’d be better.”

“I know, I trusted you,” Steve teased and bumped their shoulders together. Though Eddie tried to hide his shy smile behind a lock of hair, Steve still saw it, matched it with his own. There was a certain type of gleaming pride he felt when he managed to get Eddie to smile like that. “Are we going somewhere, though, or are we just on a walk in the woods?”

“We’re goin’ somewhere. Just don’t laugh when we get there.”

“No promises,” Steve said, teasing again, and Eddie half-heartedly shoved him for it.

“Now I don’t know if I wanna show you,” Eddie said with a miffed tone. He started walking again, though, so Steve kept pace.

“Why, is this some kind of secret nerd lair? Superman’s Cave of Loneliness?”

The sheer amount of disbelief and dismay in Eddie’s face when he whirled to face him made Steve howl with laughter. “I’m sorry, ‘Cave of Loneliness!?’ I don’t even read Superman and I know it’s the Fortress of Solitude, man. It’s in the movies!” Eddie squawked.

“How is Fortress of Solitude any different from Cave of Loneliness, huh?” Eddie’s mouth opened and shut once, then again, and Steve knew he’d won. “Yeah, you can’t say shit, Eddie, you know I’m right.”

Eddie glared so venomously that Steve almost missed the charmed smile he was poorly fighting off. “Fuck you, Harrington,” he said, though his lips pursed trying to keep from laughing.

“You wish.” Steve winked, then started walking in the direction Eddie had been leading them in. When Eddie lagged behind, face frozen in shock, Steve fixed him with an expectant look until the lights came back on behind Eddie’s eyes and he scrambled forward.

The trees grew taller, wider, and more gnarled the further they walked, and the shade grew deeper. Sunshine flecked the forest floor, showing the way between the trunks and glancing off still-green foliage untouched by the summer heat. It was beautiful, but Steve kept getting distracted by the way the light caught in Eddie’s hair; the dappling made the strands of dark brown flash with vibrant reds and richer browns, and danced over his cheekbones like golden kisses. Steve wanted to replace them with his own, his chest aching sweetly with desire, but he wasn’t brave enough yet.

He could still wish for it, though. Eddie’s skin would probably feel soft under Steve’s lips. He’d take his time, too, placing one languid, deliberate kiss after the other, tracing the path the sun had left.

The bubble of his daydream popped when Eddie came to a halt in front of a massive old oak and spread his arms upwards with a, “Ta-dah!” Following his wiggling fingers, Steve saw the structure sitting snugly in the tree’s sturdy, sprawling branches.

A treehouse. The foundation of it seemed to be built from old railroad ties, bolted into the trunk, while the rest of it looked a little newer. Big, childishly menacing eyes were painted around the windows, and below those and slashed across the door was a mouth full of triangle-shaped teeth; in the middle of the mouth, on the door, a red tongue lolled out. The rest of the rounded walls looked like they’d been black once, but had now faded away to a mottled, chipped grey. A fake chimney sprouted from the roof, which was shaped like a cone and covered with mismatched shingles. While the base still seemed sturdy, the house itself was starting to look a little rickety.

“What do you think?”

“That’s the most elaborate treehouse I’ve ever seen.” That wasn’t even a lie. Steve had said it genuinely, and with a fair bit of surprise. He would’ve been over the moon if he’d seen this as a kid.

Eddie beamed at the praise. “Ain’t it? Wayne and I built it ourselves. Well, we had a bit of help from one of his buddies from the plant who does carpentry on the side, but still. Took a whole summer to build too.” He walked to the trunk and that’s when Steve spotted the rusty ladder rungs drilled into the tree. His ringed hand closed around a rung with a clicking sound.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eddie,” Steve warned.

Rolling his eyes so hard his whole head followed, Eddie said, “Live a little, Stevie!” Hoisting himself up, Eddie began to scale the ladder easily, his hands and feet finding each placement like it was habitual. It probably was. Steve watched him climb the ten-ish feet up–and absolutely appreciated the view–until Eddie landed on the narrow space between the edge of the foundation and the door and pushed the door open on its squeaky hinges. “See, nothing to worry about. Hurry up, you’re missing the party!” he shouted over the edge before ducking into the treehouse.

Huffing, Steve shook his head and followed Eddie up at a much more cautious pace. Not a single rung was loose, thankfully. At the top, he clambered onto the foundation and found the house was a little smaller than it seemed from the ground, but Eddie had wedged himself inside against the left side, still smiling, legs folded in so that Steve could crouch his way inside.

“This is, uh, a tight fit,” he grunted, smacking the back of his head on the doorway.

“Be careful,” Eddie said, and Steve glared without any heat.

“Bit late for that.”

Some shuffling, arguing, and contorted limbs later, and Steve was settled inside the treehouse. His and Eddie’s legs were practically intertwined as they sat across from each other, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable; the curve of the rounded walls was pretty nice to rest against, actually.

“This is great,” he said as he inspected the place. Cobwebs hung everywhere, and he was sure a racoon had slept in the leaves and fur piled next to him. There was a dusty red plastic kid’s chair tucked under a piece of plywood jutting from the wall that must’ve been a desk, but now held an abandoned bird’s nest. The walls were covered in crayon drawings: stick figures with swords and guns acting out grand battles against monsters, a big castle that had a flag with an ‘M’ on it, a red dragon shooting laser beams instead of fire from its mouth. Steve nodded at the dragon with his chin. “That’s different.”

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, that and the dudes with guns started when my dad let me watch Wizards way too young.” At Steve’s quizzical expression, he continued, “Animated movie from ‘77. I dunno, you might like it. It’s not your typical fantasy stuff.”

“I like fantasy sometimes, just not when Dustin keeps ragging on me to watch or read or play it all the damn time.”

“Fair,” Eddie laughed.

“Maybe we could watch it sometime, together?”

He looked pleasantly surprised. “You’d wanna watch a weird fantasy movie with me?” Steve shrugged. “Alright man, it’s a date. Just tell me when and where and I’ll procure the goods.”

Something fluttered in Steve’s belly when Eddie said ‘it’s a date,’ even though he hadn’t meant it like that. Still, that genuine little smile that lingered on Eddie's face gave him just the tiniest glint of unwanted hope.

“When did you and your uncle build this?” he asked to distract himself from the small riot happening inside himself.

“When I was eleven. I’d been living with Wayne for about a year, and he wanted to do something for me to celebrate even though I’d spent most of that year being a little shit. His friend Dale had gotten ahold of the wood for free, and Wayne had known about this old treehouse foundation,” Eddie knocked on the floor, “for a while. So during the summer he took some time off from work and we built it with Dale’s help in a week. Definitely stabbed my foot with a nail once.”

Steve looked at the construction with a new appreciation, and also a little bit of old, selfish longing. But he pushed that down. “That sounds nice.”

“You ever have a treehouse built around Harrington Manor?”

“Nah.” Steve wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin where they crossed. “I tried to convince my dad once when I was little. He even bought the stuff for it. Mom told him it’d be an eyesore in the yard, though, and I was too young to take it all into the woods and build it by myself. It just sat around until my dad got rid of it.”

Eddie hummed, a bitter twist to his mouth. It was a look he always got on the rare times Steve talked about his parents. “Wouldn’t it be kinda funny if that treehouse stuff you dad got rid of was the wood Dale found? This shit was all pre-cut and everything, I think.”

Chuckling a bit, Steve said, “Yeah, maybe.”

“I choose to believe it, and therefore I decree it to be True.” Head held high, Eddie smacked his fist into the floor like a gavel. Steve didn’t bother hiding the grin that crept up on him. “Twas yours once, King Steve, then passed on to become Fort Munson so that you may in the future visit the bounty you bestowed upon the Kingdom of Munson as a sign of peace and goodwill.”

“I would’ve thought this’d be Castle Munson.”

“Nope, that’s the trailer, Steve. Get it right.”

Steve laughed hard enough to knock his head against the wall. Eddie was too good at that, making Steve’s gloomy moments brighter with his nerdy antics, and while Steve figured it was the crush making everything Eddie did that much more, he hoped it wouldn’t fade. Even if it also made his chest hurt.

“Would’ve been nice if we’d built it together, as kids. If we’d been friends then, y’know?” He sighed and turned away from Eddie, not that it was easy to hide in the tight space they’d jammed themselves into. “Maybe I’d–maybe things would’ve turned out differently.”

A clean white Reebok knocked into Steve’s dirty Nike. A scolding. “ Stop beating yourself up over there or I’m gonna start doing it for you. I don’t want different, Stevie. Don’t want you any different.”

Steve hid cheek against his arms when he felt it grow red, hoped Eddie wouldn’t notice it travelling up to the tip of his ear. “I don’t think beating me up for beating myself up is helpful,” he huffed.

“Well I’m gonna. Don’t test me. I’ll use percussive maintenance on your ass.”

Steve frowned, but not at the nonsense words that came out of Eddie’s mouth. “What’s that?” he asked.

“What, percussive maintenance? It’s like when you hit the TV to make the signal come through, or–oh. Uh.”

There was a drawing next to Steve’s head, a stick figure knight kneeling and kissing the hand of another stick figure that wore a crown. He traced a curious finger over the crown and the short hair of the drawing, the yellow and black crayon still waxy after a decade of weathering. “Aren’t princesses supposed to have long hair or something?”

Eddie’s feet shuffled away from Steve’s. His heart plummeted in his chest, a drop from a rollercoaster, and he watched Eddie’s face turn inscrutable, his eyes fixed downward. Shit. What had he done wrong? The humourless laugh that followed made Steve feel even worse.

“Eddie, I’m sorry, I–”

“Sure, when you’re a kid princesses have long hair,” Eddie interrupted. His hands were locked together, almost white-knuckle tight, twitching up and down with a nervous tick Steve knew well, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. It looked like he was fighting something, whether to say something or not. All Steve wanted to do was reach out, pry his hands apart and take them into his own, but he wasn’t sure if that would even be welcome now or not.

“You don’t have to tell me, whatever it is. I put my foot in my mouth all the time, man, you can just tell me to fuck off.”

“No, I. I–I gotta. Robin said I should just, just do it, you know? Just gimmie a second.”

Steve frowned, concerned, but kept quiet, even as Eddie ran his now shaking hands through his hair. A curl got caught in one of his rings and Eddie cursed, but Steve darted forward to gently untangle it before Eddie just ripped it out. He tucked the soft strand back amongst the rest with care and met Eddie’s dark, wide, longing eyes.

Eddie groaned and hid his face in his hands. “See, Steve, you go and do shit like that and sometimes I think I can do this, but. Fuck.”

Heart hammering in his chest, Steve asked, urged, “What, Eddie?”

“That’s a prince, Steve.” The words came out as a shaky whisper and hung in the small space between them, caught in the air like dust motes.

It took Steve much less time to connect the dots this time than the last time someone came out to him. “So… you’re gay?”

A shuddering sigh escaped Eddie’s chest and his shoulders slumped. He still didn’t look up. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve had a crush on girls once or twice, but. Mostly just guys.”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to feel like this, this jumble of calm and relief and so hopeful and happy he could dance or shout or shake something. Fireworks over a still lake. He balled his fists just to keep from grabbing Eddie and yanking him closer.

“That’s cool. Good, actually.”

Eddie snorted and started to lift his head. “‘Good?’ What do you mean, good?”

While Eddie spoke, Steve quickly shuffled to his knees–staying hunched over so he didn’t bump his head again–and leaned into Eddie’s space a fraction more, hands braced by Eddie’s hips to keep from flopping into his lap. Eddie stared up at him, awed, slack-jawed, and Steve could feel his warm breath ghost across his cheeks, could see the way the summer had intensified the faint freckles that dusted the bridge of Eddie’s nose. They stood out more as the blush in his cheeks darkened.

“I like both,” Steve shared quietly, earnestly. “I like you, Eddie.”

“You… you like me?”

Steve grinned, wide and goofy but he couldn’t care less. “Yeah. I like you a lot.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit–”

“Eddie,” Steve laughed and cupped his warm, scarred cheek in his palm. He’d meant to pull Eddie in for a kiss, to finally make all those daydreams come true, but instead Eddie’s hand wrapped around his. Gently, Eddie brought it away from his face, his grasp sliding down to the tips of Steve’s fingers as he arched Steve’s hand. Then he brought it to his lips, gaze set meaningfully on Steve’s. Pressed his lips to the back of Steve’s hand in a kiss so reverent it had goosebumps breaking out over Steve’s skin, making his breath catch around the sudden lump in his throat.

“I like you a lot too, Steve,” Eddie said, still quiet, as if speaking any louder would burst the fragile and pearlescent bubble of joy around their puzzle-pieced bodies. Steve touched his forehead to Eddie’s with a watery laugh. He couldn’t help it, pulled there by a tug on his heartstrings, and his grin grew almost painful when Eddie nuzzled their noses together.

All it took was the slightest movement. Neither boy could tell who did it first; both of them met in the middle. Steve felt Eddie’s bottom lip press between his, cradled it there softly, pouring every bit of yearning and desire he’d been feeling for months into this one simple touch. When they parted with that delicate sound of a broken kiss, Steve’s eyes fluttered open to see Eddie’s still closed. A slow, satisfied smile grew, making those dimples Steve loved so much appear in Eddie’s cheeks.

And Eddie giggled. Steve hadn’t ever heard him giggle before and it made him feel like a shaken up can of soda. Quickly he ducked in and kissed him again, and again, desperate to release the pressure and hoping to coax more of that laugh from Eddie.

They kissed and laughed and held each other in the treehouse until they lost track of time, until their lips were redder than their faces and their stubble had rubbed a few spots just a little raw. When they finally came up for air, the sun was lower in the sky, painting the forest outside the open door in golden hour hues.

“I guess there’s more than peace between our kingdoms,” Eddie said, and Steve snorted into his shoulder.

“Good thing I trusted you, then.”

Eddie wound his arms around Steve and held him close enough that Steve could hear his heartbeat through the soft fabric of his old band tee. In the midst of their kissing he’d ended up sprawled between Eddie’s knees, and they’d both sunk down onto the cramped, dusty floor.

“Real good thing, Stevie.”

Tag List Lovelies: @steves-strapcollection @scarcrossdlvrs @inairbinad

[rogueddie]

Buckingham, 1,760 words, for @thefreakandthehair’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge, with the prompt; snowball fight.

Winter, and Christmas especially, has always been Robins favorite time of year.

Or, more accurately, it used to be.

With the heavy snow, December of '85 is starting to become the worst month of Robins year. She can't even bring herself to enjoy the snow. Nothing her parents usually do to cheer her up works either.

"Until the roads are cleared, I've got to walk," Steve repeats. "I'm sorry, Robs. Maybe the snow will clear tomorrow."

"Maybe," she reluctantly agrees, ignoring the fact that he'd said the same thing yesterday... and the day before that... and the day before that. "At least we're on shift tonight, right?"

"Oh..."

Steve's tone only fills her with more dread.

"What?"

"Keith called me before you," Steve says. "Family Video is closed for the day. Something about the snow being too much and no one shopping in this weather anyway."

"So, hey, maybe school will be cancelled too," Robin tries, though they both know school won't cancel.

"I'll walk you home from school," Steve offers. "Or we can go back to my house. I still have that cake we made."

"Yeah, alright, whatever. I'll call you at lunch, yeah?"

"Ok. Missing you already, Robs."

"Love you too, Dingus."

Hanging up, she drops her head against the wall with a soft 'thud', grumbling complaints under her breath.

"No Steve today?" Her mother asks.

Robin turns, glaring when she sees the teasing smirk. "No, no Steve today. By the time he clears his driveway, I could have already walked to school and waiting... whatever. It's not a big deal."

"Mhm," her mom hums, chuckling. "Sure it isn't, sweetie."

"It isn't! It's not like we need to be together all the time. We can go one day."

"Your uncle and I used to use those same excuses, you know. We weren't any more convincing than you two. Now, come on, get ready. You'll be late if you don't leave soon."

Reluctant, and groaning, Robin takes the coat her mom holds out for her. She picks her bag up, sat by the door, and sitting on the stairs so she can pull on her boots.

"Don't rush, there's a lot of ice," her mom warns. "And keep your coat zipped up. And-"

"I know, I know. I love you, too. I'll see you later!"

"Bye sweetheart! Be careful!"

The air outside is freezing. It hits Robin like a brick wall when she steps out and, despite her mom's warning, the idea of spending longer is the cold than she needs to is horrifying.

She jogs, careful to avoid patches of roads and sidewalks that look icy.

She makes it most of the way with only a few stumbles before, inevitably, she slips over.

"Oh my god," someone yelps. "Are you ok?!"

Robin flushes, muttering curses, when she realises that, not only did someone see her fall over and eat shit- Chrissy Cunningham saw her fall over.

"I'm- yeah, fine, totally," she chokes out, forcing a laugh.

"Here," Chrissy pants a little, having ran over to her, offering a hand.

Robin takes her hand, a little surprised at how easily Chrissy pulls her up.

"Thanks," she says, trying to smile.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Chrissy frowns, looking her over. "We have a first aid kit if-"

"Oh, no, that's not... I am ok, really."

"if you're sure." Chrissy shifts, glancing back to the drive. "I'd over to drive you the rest of the way, but..."

Robin leans to look around her, wincing when she sees the drive.

The snow is piled high in the driveway and, despite how much has been cleared, there's no way that Chrissy is going to clear the rest in time.

"Why don't we walk together instead?" Robin suggests.

She almost takes it back, wincing at her own boldness, but Chrissy lights up.

"Yeah? I mean, yeah, let's! Lemme grab my bag, ok?"

"Ok, yeah, that's fine."

Robin wraps her arms around herself, starting to step side to side in an attempt to keep warm while she waits.

Luckily, it doesn't take Chrissy long.

"Ok, I'm ready!" She smiles. She pulls the strap to her back a little further onto her shoulder, the polite smile faltering. "Oh, are you cold?"

"Uh, yeah, but I'm fine, really, it-"

"No, don't worry," Chrissy twists so she can root through her bag. "I've got a spare... aha!"

She pulls out a scarf that's mostly green and white. She wraps it around Robins neck before she can protest.

"You can give it back later," Chrissy easily dismisses, starting to walk down the street. She raises an eyebrow when she glances back at Robin. "Come on!"

Robin stumbles a little in her rush to catch up.

"Careful," Chrissy says, taking hold of Robins right arm and cradling it in both of hers. She glances down at her boots. "Do you have enough grip with those?"

"What? I mean, yeah, these are great, they're sturdy and build for ice- mom got them specifically because they have great grip. The problem is with me, I'm not good at running. Like, I have terrible co-ordination- Steve is always joking about how I run like a windmill and, yeah, I do, but he learnt to walk slower than I did so really, he's the weird one here- I mean, what type of baby tries to crawl backwards, right?"

Robin finally pauses for breath. She glances at Chrissy, who is struggling to stiffle her giggles.

"Steve Harrington?" Chrissy asks, when she finally realizes that Robin isn't going to continue.

"Uh... yeah... don't tell anyone I told you that."

"My lips are sealed."

"No, really, that's- I think he told me that in confidence or something, I shouldn't have told you that, I just can't stop rambling when I get nervous around- and you're- oh god. I'm shutting up now. No more conversations. We're just... having a nice- silent- walk to school together. Just... me and Chrissy Cunningham. Jesus."

"You say that like I'm scary."

"Well, I mean..."

That only makes Chrissy giggle harder. "You think I'm scary? Really?"

She leans heavily into Robins side, one of her hands curling up around Robins bicep. She's looking up at Robin with an expression that's painfully familiar.

It's the same expression she's seen girls pull out when they're hitting on Steve. The same moves too.

But what would Steve do? Robin thinks, panicking.

She's grown so used to old conversations with Steve repeating in her head, his bad jokes and questionable advice a constant and welcome companion.

But, now that she actually needs him, he's nowhere to be found.

After a few seconds of panicking, Robin is desperate to break the tension that is quickly turning from flirty to awkward.

She ducks down, grabbing a handfull of snow, and throwing it against Chrissys coat.

Robin jerks up, standing stiff upright, frozen and stunned at herself, whilst Chrissy is equally frozen, staring at Robin with her mouth agape.

It doesn't take long for the shock and confusion to vanish though, and soon Chrissys grin turns wicked, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"I'm sorry?" Robin tries.

"Are you?"

'That means she's flirting, just... in a more playful way', Steve voice finally rings in her head. That day had been confusing for Robin- she hadn't known if the girl had been flirting with him or bullying him. 'I kinda prefer it. It's nice to know you can roughhouse a little with a girl, you know? It can be fun. Sexy'.

That had been one of his more successful dates, Robin remembers. He'd gushed about her for the entire week between their first and second date. She can't remember what went wrong, but he was confident that-

Chrissy ducks down, quick, scooping up a pile of snow with both hands.

Nope.

She takes off running, barely darting out of the way of the snowball in time.

"Hey!" Chrissy yells after her. "Get back here!"

But she's laughing as she says it.

So, almost tripping onto her face as she ducks down, she scoops up another ball of snow. She turns, aim going a little wild with how fast she keeps running.

She yelps, stumbling a little heavier when the snowball sent back in return smacks directly in the back of her head.

"Careful!" Chrissy yells.

"Then don't aim for my head!"

"It's not my fault it's an easy target!"

"Hey!"

Robin scoops more snow, turning and sliding to a stop. Chrissy doesn't have enough time to stop, but she does duck out of the way so it hits the side of her head instead of directly in her face.

She realizes her mistake a second too late.

Chrissy, unable to slow her momentum on the same patch of ice that Robin had slid across, slams straight into Robin.

Robin winces when her back slams into the ground, the snow doing nothing to cushion the fall. She feels lucky that her head didn't also slam into the ground.

"Oops?" Chrissy says, pushing herself up slightly but making no move to get off her.

"No, it's ok, that's on me."

"Yeah..." Chrissy trails off, voice weak- distracted.

Robin holds as still as she can, irrationally worried that if she moves then she'll startle Chrissy out of whatever moment she's having that has her looking down at Robins lips, cheeks flushing.

For a moment, Robin is sure that Chrissy is going to kiss her. Her eyes flutter, shifting up so her face is above Robins, tilting her head and starting lean down, to-

Someone wolf whistles, loud.

Chrissy jerks back, throwing herself off of Robin- but she is immediately glaring at the two boys, laughing and leering at them.

"Fuck off!" Chrissy yells. "Jerks!"

She ignores them when they try yelling back, instead focusing on Robin and helping her to her feet.

"Ignore them," Chrissy mumbles, grabbing hold of her hand and gently dragging her along, walking fast. She glances back, seeming to relax. "What assholes."

Robin glances back, relieved when she realizes that they're turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.

"Yeah," she agrees, turning back to stare at Chrissy, awed. "You're so brave."

"What? Oh, no, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are! Scary, too."

"I am not!"

"Scared those two."

Chrissy huffs, leaning in so their shoulders bump together.

"You're something else," Robin continues, emboldened. "It's impressive. You're, like, actually cool. Not just popular kid cool, but... truly, really, awesome."

"Shut up." She's mumbling, but she's smiling. She's blushing. She's looking up at Robin through her eyelashes.

"Nope," Robin grins.

[morganski-19]

I cannot stop myself from thinking of more fic ideas or making more wips. But, I had an idea for a bunch of short little ficlets that would all be in the same universe, and could be compiled into longer chapters to post on ao3, but probably won't.

I just need someone to tell me that it's worth it or it's stupid so I won't do it.

So here's the idea.:

Friends-style apartment shenanigans with the spicy six.

Like Steve and Robin as Joey and Chandler, best friends who's apartment is pure chaos.

Eddie and Nancy would be estranged high school friends (aka Monica and Rachel) who now live with each other across the way.

And of course, Steddie and Ronance would spawn from that.

Jonathan and Argyle are best friends who live with each other across the street. It's always a question of whether or not they are dating yet because they sure act like it and already live together. (They aren't but that's not the point (they will be eventually)).

Argyle gives Pheobe vibes, so he fits that part perfectly. Jonathan would be Ross because I ran out of people but be significantly better of a person than Ross. (Ignore that Ross slander, I hate that man)

But anyway, it would just be a bunch of weird situations that they all get into just living in the city, so real story arc or anything other than the couples getting together in the end. But it could be something like, Steve buys something weird and they talk about it for a while, or one of them gets a promotion and the celebrate. The last person Steve slept with (cause he's the Joey in this situation if that wasn't clear) had a weird belly button.

Just weird shit that doesn't really have a point for a whole fic but is fun to read/write. Like a sitcom.

Would anyone read this?

[pappydaddy]

how you get the girl (j.m.)

a/n: i got a little carried away with this one lovelies! but i hope you enjoy it💛!

tv show/movie: outer banks

pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

not requested

style | i wish you would | how you get the girl - you're here

synopsis: after an increase in reckless behaviour, jj's friends confront him, giving him an ultimatum. jj enlists the help of sarah and kie on how to win y/n back.

taglist: @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @luvhanns | @thelakespoets | @lonely-simplicity | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @smarie7543

*line through your user means i could not tag you lovely!

au where there was no treasure but sarah and kie mended their friendship and brought everyone together

warnings: angst, heartbreak, mentions of an unsafe party, drinking, drug use, voyeurism/exhibitionism, mentions of witnessing public sex, inappropriate relationships mentioned, john mayer referenced, being hit on during a vulnerable state, older women (40) hitting on drunk jj, spicy content (not smut).

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

-not my gif - my header-

“Six months. It has been six months of this and I am tired,” Pope exclaimed as they all gathered in the Twinkie. “We are basically acting as his parents and I can barely take care of myself!” He continued as John B drove down the road. 2 AM, just like clockwork. 

  “Tell me about it. I think I’m getting grey hairs. I need to go to the hairdressers sometime,” Sarah muttered, picking up her blonde hair, intersecting it before flipping down the visor, looking at the roots. “Seriously, we need to do something about this. I cannot be going grey at eighteen, John B.” She looked to her boyfriend, flicking the visor back up. 

  “Look, I don’t know what you guys want me to do. JJ’s gone off the deep end, there is no talking to him when he is like this. The harder we push, the further he pulls away from us,” John B sighed. “Look, the best thing for him is for us to give him space, he will come around when he’s ready. If we push him too hard, he won’t have us to protect him anymore.” 

  Kie hummed, agreeing with him, but Pope and Sarah shared a look. “Well, he’s off the deep end about his break-up with Y/N so, why don’t we use that to reel him back in? At least stop making us go get him at 2 AM.” Pope suggested, looking between Sarah and Kie, trying to gauge if it was a good idea. 

  “How did you know about JJ and Y/N?” Kie asked, sitting up straight, fearful. Pope blinked at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

  “It was obvious-” 

  “Painfully,” John B chipped in, turning into a random driveway. “This is the address he texted. Let’s go find him. And I’m not hating the idea Pope had about using Y/N.” He remarked, eyebrows raised suggestively. 

  They all climbed out of the van, approaching the house with the obvious party going on. It was as if they wanted the cops to bust it. The stench of weed and alcohol. It was enough to make anyone who wasn’t drunk or high run away from it. And if that was obvious, there was sure to be an abundance of drugs being used. It would probably be a drug dog’s worst nightmare. “I do like it, but how would we use her? It’s not like she’ll be up to talking to him. The ball is in his court. It is up to him to tell her how he feels.” Kie stressed, earning a hum of agreement from Sarah. 

  “Yeah, she laid down the conditions, he was the one who refused to answer. She should not be responsible for his actions and she should not be responsible for making this right. Besides, she’s really torn up about this.” Sarah explained further as they opened the door, the noise hitting them like a brick wall. 

  “We give him an ultimatum. He either stops this behaviour or next time we’re calling Y/N and telling her about everything he’s doing. We no longer protect him from her finding out all of this,” Pope gestured around to the party full of people tripping on some sort of drug or so horribly drunk he is amazed they are still alive. “Is happening. I mean like, there are at least two couples having sex right there.” 

  “Oh my god, there is,” Sarah gasped. “John B, all of these people are way older. Like John Mayer old and creepy. This is so much worse than the other parties he’s been to.” She pointed out. 

  “Yeah, I’m catching the drift that this might be a tipping point for JJ’s behaviour. This is not safe for any of us to be here.” John B noted as they moved around the house some more, the thumping music and random yelling overwhelming them. 

  From between the noise, they could hear a familiar voice. “You know, I would love to do that with you, but I have someone already.” JJ. He sat on the floor, back pressed against the wall as an older woman dragged her hand up and down his leg, lips pressing kisses all over his face. 

  “JJ, man,” John B quickly rushed over to him, swatting the completely drunk woman away from his best friend. “Get away, you’re old enough to be our mother.” He shooed her off. With a huff, she stumbled off, her heels scuffing against the hardwood. 

  “John B! My man! My buddy, have you seen this party? It’s full of cougars! I’ve been hit on so much, it’s insane.” He was beyond drunk, his speech slurred and his eyes half-lidded. 

  “Yeah, we saw that Buddy, but you don’t want these people to hit on you, they’re too old and don’t have good intentions.” John B coached him. A sober JJ knows this. He might get an ego boost, but he knew not to accept any advances. Drunk JJ, John B wasn’t too sure. 

  John B wrapped JJ’s arm around his shoulder, Pope taking the other one and doing the same. Together, they hoisted JJ up to stand. “But, I couldn’t accept any of them because all I can think about is Y/N. She’s ruined sex for me.” He slumped, not being able to keep his body weight up. John B and Pope stumbled, but kept themselves standing. 

  “Why are you even at this party, JJ? How did you get yourself into this situation, Dude?” Pope asked, looking around. He wasn’t even sure how JJ knew this was happening. It’s not like he runs in any social circles with forty-year-old women who think sleeping with a barely legal teenager is okay. 

  “I heard about this from my cousin. He was supplying some of the weed,” JJ slurred, his eyes closing as his feet dragging as they neared the door. “Last party I was at, I saw Y/N. She was with Topper. Not only did she ruin sex for me, how can I go to another party where she might show up looking so amazing with Topper on her arm,” He rambled, opening his eyes as he felt the cold night air hitting him. “So, I thought that Y/N would never come to a party like this and if she did, I would drag her back out of the party because it would be so unsafe for her to be in there. She would get John Mayered! So, I went to the party.” 

  “You went to the party you deemed unsafe?” 

  “Well, yeah. What if she did come to this party? Who was going to protect her? Topper? Yeah right. He would be too busy snorting cocaine up his nose to realise she was in trouble.” He reasoned as they unceremoniously shoved him into the back of the Twinkie. 

  Turning to the group, John B said sternly. “We’re talking to JJ tomorrow about the ultimatum.” 

____   

  “JJ, we need to talk.” JJ looked up from John B’s coffee table where he was carefully rolling a blunt - his second one since noon. The voice came from John B himself, Kie, Pope, and even Sarah in tow. They had been out together all day, since even before JJ got up.  

  “Okay, then talk away dude, I’m not bothering you.” He shrugged, packing the loose weed in the paper carefully, eyes trained on it. His friends all settled into spots, Pope and John B sitting on either side of him. It raised a red flag within JJ’s mind, but he didn’t care too much about it - he knew they would never hurt him.  

  “Talk with you, Buddy.” John B clarified, gently reaching in front of JJ when he stilled for a second. Pope did the same, grabbing the baggie of weed and handing it to Kiara who quickly moved it away from the living area. John B gently pulled the blunt in progress away from JJ, both to avoid a fight and to make sure none of the weed spilled onto his floor (it’s like catnip of JJ). 

  “Don’t see what we need to talk about, but okay,” JJ shrugged, seeming to be playing obliviously. He knew what they were wanting to talk about. He’ll just pretend he doesn’t. “Talk away, my friend.” He leaned back on the couch as the four of them shared nervous glances. 

  “Well, okay,” John B cleared his throat, looking at his friends in a silent way that said he would start the conversation. “We wanted to talk to you about your behaviour lately. You’ve resorted back to reckless JJ. It was first getting into week long fits of rage-” 

  “Particularly when you see Topper-” Pope added in.

  “Especially when you see Topper and Y/N together,” Kie piped up, sitting on the now clear coffee table across from JJ, Sarah sitting beside her. They were ready to jump up at any time, knowing JJ doesn’t like to feel cornered. “Then you get all mopey when you see Y/N and then all of a sudden, you’re angry again.” Kie explained as gently as she could. 

  “Now, it's the endless partying, but last night with that dangerous party you went to, it’s too much. It’s much worse than what you’ve done in the past. You surpassed your own level of recklessness last night.” John B told him. 

  “So? I won’t go to any more of those parties. I realise now that it was dangerous. Happy?” JJ asked, moving to stand up but John B and Pope simply put their hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down.   

  “It’s been going on for six months, JJ. Which also is about the time you and Y/N stopped talking suddenly. After that phone call you had that night.” Sarah observed. 

  JJ shifted, elbows resting on his knees as he shrugged. “I don’t see it. And I don’t know why you guys are bringing Y/N into this. She has nothing to do with anything, she’s innocent in this.” He denied, blue eyes avoiding everyone.

  “She told us about you a couple of weeks ago, Sarah and I,” Kie informed him, his blue eyes widening, snapping up to look into Kie’s calming brown ones, trying to see if she was bluffing or not. Didn’t matter if she was or not now, she for sure knew from his reaction. “We already knew about you two, but she told us what happened.”

  “We haven’t told her about your behaviour. We figured you wouldn’t want her knowing about some of the things you’ve done.” John B informed him.

  “We have been working double time trying to keep her from getting any information. Your drunken adventures, the attempted hook-ups, the drug use, last night’s party. We have made sure none of it has reached her,” Pope explained. JJ’s blue eyes shifted from each person, a sense of gratitude within them. “But, we have reached the breaking point with your behaviour, especially after last night, JJ.” 

  “So, we’ve decided to give you an ultimatum. You work with us to figure out how to help you fix this or the next time you call us after doing something stupid. We call Y/N and tell her everything.” John B ripped the metaphorical band-aid off. And surprisingly, JJ didn’t flip the table or his lid. 

  They all watched him as he let the words sink in. They could see his blue eyes moving from side to side as if the answer was written on the floor. “I want to get her back. But she’s with Topper now-”

  “You think she’s with Topper? She hates Topper- well, hated Topper,” Sarah spoke up. “Her and Topper were set up on a date by their parents. She called him out on his shit and they became friends. He’s basically just standing in for us while we’re here babysitting you. Once you’re back in her life, I am sure both of them will be more than happy to go their separate ways.” 

  “Okay, that takes care of that, but I don’t even know the first step to getting her back. She is the first girl I actually like, let alone love and this is all uncharted territory for me.” 

  “That’s where we come in.” Kie smiled, pointing between her and Sarah. JJ slid back in his seat, a bit unnerved with their smiles and the gleams in their eyes. 

  “They are going to use this opportunity to enact their revenge, aren’t they?” JJ questioned.

  “Possibly.” Pope agreed. He hoped they did.  

____ 

  Gruelling.That was the word JJ would use Sarah and Kie’s seven day program designed to help JJ get Y/N’s back. They sugar coated it, of course, saying that it was all necessary, but he hardly thought it was necessary for him to run all around The Cut getting them things while they sat at John B’s. They wouldn’t even let him use his bike. “If I get a cold, I am coming for your heads.” JJ painted. It was fifty degrees go and they had him outside running since the early hours of the morning. 

  Sarah and Kie shared a look as they dug through the bag JJ just brought them. “Oh, I didn’t realise you didn’t want our help to get Y/N back,” Kie hummed, pulling all the candy out of the bag. “Well, Sarah, I guess we can just leave since JJ doesn’t-” 

  “No, wait,” JJ exclaimed, hands shooting out in front of him in case they tried to leave. “I need your help, I do. But I don’t see why I need to be out running in fifty degree weather. Getting a cold isn’t going to help get Y/N back.” 

  Kie rolled her eyes at his overdramatics. “You’re not going to catch a cold-”

  “Wait, he might have a point,” Sarah remarked, hands stilling as she shifted through the snacks herself. Kie threw her a questioning look. “Risking a cold,” Sarah spoke again as if that was to make it all make sense. “He’s risking his health to show her how much he loves her! It’s the ultimate romantic gesture!” 

  JJ slumped down in one of the free chairs littering the living room. He really thought Sarah was going to stop this madness. “Should we still do flowers and candy then? Or should he just show up at her doorstep in the middle of the storm we’re getting tomorrow night?” JJ’s mouth fell open to protest, but Kie and Sarah already launched into re-evaluating the plan. 

  “I’m definitely getting sick after this.” He groaned, hand falling over his eyes as his skin felt like a million needles were sticking into it - his skin unthawing from being out in the cold all day. 

  “Oh, hush. This means you don’t have to run anywhere anymore,” Sarah scolded him. JJ let his hand drop, somewhat relieved. “By the way, do you even understand what happened between you two?”

  JJ looked at her, eyes wide as he questioned her sanity. “You mean the thing you explain to me everyday even though I showed a full understanding of how I screwed everything up from the start of these past seven days,” Sarah and Kie nodded. “Oh, well than yes, but I am sure you’ll torture me by revisiting it.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about this before you broke Y/N’s heart.”  

____

  “Wow, they were not kidding when they said it would be a storm.” Y/N muttered to herself as she pulled the curtains covering her bedroom window back, looking at the downpour. She could see it in the yellow gleam from the streetlight, if she didn’t know better, she would assume they were having a hurricane in February. She never understood the expression raining cats and dogs until now. In an odd way, it was beautiful. Especially when she closed her eyes and listened to it hitting her house. She could be lulled asleep standing right there if she allowed herself. 

  Stepping away from the window, the curtain danced back into place. She never used to have curtains, but following the imposition of her relationship with JJ, every time she saw headlights shine through her window, she thought of him. In an effort to squash any hint of regret, she begged her parents to buy her curtains - which they did with little to no fight. Since then, they remained closed, plunging her in darkness that she found suited her recent mood for the past six months. 

  With a sigh, she picked up the pizza take-out menu she had found. It was her and JJ’s favourite place to order pizza from. Topper had innocently fetched it for her in case she lost power and couldn’t look up websites to order pizza from. He claimed that she should save her phone data for texting and emergencies. She thought he was insane. 

  “I could go for a pizza,” She hummed, opening the menu as if she didn’t know what she already wanted. Picking up her phone, she dialled the number she knew by heart. After a few rings, the girl’s voice spoke through the speaker, obviously chewing gum in the obnoxious way. “Hi, I would like to place an order for delivery. My info should be in the system already, it’s under L/N. I just want what I usually get.” 

  She pinched the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she stood up, gathering some blankets that were carelessly thrown on her floor. “Large pizza with extra sauce and extra cheese with pepperoni?” The girl questioned after a few seconds of typing and clicking. 

  “That’s the one. Could I also get two orders of breadsticks with that?” She paused the gathering of blankets, blinking as she listened to the typing on the other side of the phone. 

  “Okay, anything else tonight?” 

  “No, that will be all. Thank you.” 

  “Should be delivered in about twenty minutes. Any later than thirty and the order is free.” She drawled before hanging up the phone. Y/N smiled, looking forward to the greasy food as she slipped her phone into the pocket of her (JJ’s) hoodie. Shifting the mass of blankets, she started to make her way down the stairs to set up in the living room. Her parents were away in Cuba, celebrating their wedding anniversary meaning Y/N was alone in the house. Humming, she set the blankets down on the couch, hands hitting her legging covered thighs as she looked around, seeing if anything else needed to be changed. 

  The sudden sound of a rough knock startled her. Her gate was closed and nearly impossible to scale so it had to be someone she trusted enough to give the gate code to. This eased her nerves slightly, actually making her feet move towards the door. “Oh my god, what if it’s the cops. Did I do anything wrong? Did they get evidence that I was drinking at that party Topper dragged me to like a week ago,” She whispered to herself, her mind spiralling. “I can’t go to jail. They’ll take one look at me and know I cannot offer anything but tutoring sessions which are useless in prison.” She panicked, but another knock pulled her from her mind. 

  Grabbing the door handle and yanking it open, she didn’t give herself anymore time to think. “JJ? Are you insane? You’re shaking like a ghost!” She exclaimed, worry taking over so much she couldn’t even think about questioning why he was here after six months. He stood there, his figure vibrating from the freezing rain. She wanted to take him and pull him into he warm house, but something stopped her.  

  “It’s been a long six months, Y/N,” JJ started, making her furrow her brows in confusion. She was well aware of how long the six months have been. She’s still moping around. “I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted that night and for every night for five months.” He confessed, his face red but she wasn’t sure if it was the bitter cold, him catching something, or him blushing. His blue eyes stayed on her despite his teeth chattering. 

  “So what changed, JJ. Why are you here right now,” She paused, gesturing to him. “You’re going to catch a cold.” She sighed, her still burning love for him outweighing her judgement as she grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house. 

  “In the last month, specifically the last week and some days, I wasn’t afraid to admit it anymore. I want you, Y/N,” JJ was still chattering as she wordlessly led him to the couch, wrapping a blanket around him. “And not in a secret hook-up situation. Like I actually want you for worse or for better. To be in an actual relationship with you and I will wait forever and ever until you can trust me again because I broke your heart and I knew that from the second you hung up the phone, but I was too hurt to do anything about it.” 

  He panted slightly, still shivering like a chihuahua. Y/N sighed, grabbing his freezing hand and pulling him up the stairs. He let out a low, unsure noise as she did so. “Look, I am still hurt and heartbroken, but I am willing to listen to you because that’s what you do when you are mature and ready for a relationship,” She informed him as she pulled him into her room. “I still have some of your clothes so sit on the bed while I get them.” She instructed, pulling open a drawer in her dresser. 

  “I just want you to know that if you give me another chance, I will do my best to fix your heart, to put it back together,” JJ spoke up after a few beats of silence. He could tell she was still listening as she rooted through the drawers. He looked at the dresser, seeing many photos in frames that were all too familiar. “You kept them up.” He whispered. 

  She stood up, looking back at him in confusion before following his eyes, spotting the pictures. “Oh, yeah,” She hummed, looking back down in her drawer. “I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. They reminded me of the good times. Reminded me of how it used to be between us before I pushed you too hard.” She muttered, throwing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants at him.

  He put them on the bed beside him, standing up, his eyes locked on her as she wrapped her arms around herself, nearly curling into herself in a way to protect her heart (surely). The blanket fell from his shoulders as he strides towards her. Her bedside lamp was on, casting a dim light around the room, making her look magnificent, but he wasn’t too focused on her looks - she always looked magnificent to him. 

  “I lost my mind, Y/N-” He spoke, startling her as she thought he was changing. Whirling around, she was once again startled by how close he was to her. Surely, she would have heard him moving. It’s not like he was a light guy. With all his muscle tone and his usual work boots on his feet. 

  “What do you mean?” She asked, eyes searching his face in confusion, noting how he looked in the dim lighting himself.

  “I lost my mind. When I refused to label it. I knew I didn’t want to lose you, but yet I did because I was stupid and I lost my mind. Then, I actually did lose my mind and I didn’t find it until a week ago,” His voice was scratchy from the raw emotion as she looked down at her. “I left you because I was scared and I don’t have an actual reason for being scared, but I lost my mind. You didn’t push me too hard. This was all my fault.” 

  “JJ, it’s both of our faults. I shouldn’t have sprung that conversation on you. I should have approached it another way-” He cut her off with a shake of his head.

 “No, you aren’t getting it. It is my fault. I love you and I was too chicken to say it while you were so ready and I couldn’t see it,” He let his hands grab her biceps in the most gentle way possible. Despite the fact that his skin was freezing, Y/N found warmth filling her from the contact. “I was a mess for the past six months. Like a literal mess. I was drinking, going to dangerous parties, and putting myself in dangerous situations because without you, I am nothing, Y/N. I have nothing without you-”

  “That is not true-” She tried to protest but he cut her off again. 

  “But it is true. I couldn’t even perform after you-” 

  “Oh,” She looked shocked at this, eyes drifting down to his lap before looking back up at him. “Really? You couldn’t,” She glanced down again before looking back into his eyes. “Because I left you?” 

  JJ nodded. “I mean, I got it up, but only when I was picturing you. But it was in the dead of night. But it was like that when we were dating,” He used that word for lack of a better term. “It was always you. From the very second Sarah introduced us all till this moment.” 

  The doorbell sound of the buzzer on the gate went before a voice echoed through the house, someone speaking into the microphone. “That’s my pizza,” She told him, voice soft as if not to break the delicate energy in the room. “I should go pay-”

  “Let me, I’m already soaked. I don’t want you to get a cold.” He patted her arms before taking out his wallet and making his way down the stairs. She followed him, her heart suddenly light for the first time in six months. Sure, his words were slowly mending her heavy heart, but this act of kindness, for whatever reason, just fixed one of the biggest cracks. 

  She stepped outside on the covered porch, wrapping her arms around herself to fend off the bitter wind, as she watched him run down the paved driveway the best he could without slipping. Even in the dark, blinded by the gleam of the delivery car’s headlights, she saw him paying for her pizza and breadstick with his own, hard earned money including a tip (but it was a minute over thirty minutes so he pocketed everything except the tip again). JJ didn’t seem to notice her standing out in the cold and she didn’t realise she had walked off the porch into the pouring rain until JJ spoke up. “I thought I told you I was getting it. Now look at you, you’re completely drenched and-”

  “Kiss me.” She spoke in such a sure tone with such authority in her voice it shocked JJ. Not just because she, the girl who he thought I would have to beg to take him back, was telling him to kiss her, but the way she said it. 

  “What?” He asked, breathless. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

  “Kiss me.” She repeated, stepping closer to him. Her clothes were soaked and sticking to her uncomfortably. Her hair was sticking to her face. But none of that was noticed by her nor him. She shook from the cold, but so was JJ so he couldn’t scold her for being out here. 

 “Y/N, are you sure-” JJ started but she cut him off as she took another step closer to him. The two pizza boxes were soggy and nearly hitting her from how close she was but JJ was too stunned to move them. Instead, he was staring into her eyes, searching for any sign of unease.   

  “I am completely and irrevocably sure, JJ,” She whispered, the sound would have been drowned out by the sound of rain hitting the pavement around them if they were not so close together and JJ wasn’t hanging off of every word she was saying. “Kiss me.” She urged, a small smile playing on her lips. 

  “But,” He looked at the pizza boxes in his hands. “The pizza-” She simply shoved the boxes out of his hand, sending the already ruined food and boxes to the ground. Pizza slices and bread sticks flew into the grass of the yard, the cardboard of the boxes breaking and ripping upon impact. 

  “It was free anyway. Kiss me.” This time, he listened. His hands slid along her jaw, angling her face up towards him as he stepped the rest of the way, his lips pressing against hers in such vigour it nearly knocked the two of them over. Eyes instantly closing, awareness slipping from their minds. Her hands instantly gripped his side, fisting the material of his jacket. His lips tasted the same, but this time she noticed a hint of unflavoured chapstick. Kie and Sarah were the masterminds behind this, Kie only ever had unflavoured chapstick. 

  Quickly, any form of thought was stripped from her mind as the kiss deepened. Both of their lips were desperate for one another. Their bodies pressed against each other as they stood there. Rain falling down on top of them, cold droplets hitting their faces, making their muscles jolt, but the kiss never broke. 

  “I had a whole speech planned-” JJ muttered against her lips, eyes opening, pulling back slightly, but she wasn’t having that. Her lips instantly fitted against his before he could say anything else, making him hum against her, his eyes closing again.  

  She could feel him pulling away to speak again, her eyes remaining shut as she spoke. “Shut up and take me inside, Maybank. You’ve said enough. Now show me.” She ordered, re-attaching their lips. 

  “Message received.” He mumbled, hands leaving her jaw as hers let go of his side. Just feeling his fingers dance over the tops of her thighs, she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist as if no time had passed. His hands stationed on her butt, he blindly carried her into the house, mouths attached, tongues exploring the all too familiar areas of each other’s mouths, and eyes closed. 

____

  Y/N groaned, pulling her lips away from JJ’s as his phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time within the hour. “JJ, could you just answer it or put it on silent?” She asked, nails dragging up and down his bare back. She was under him, her legs straddling him. The sheets were a mess, tangled around JJ’s legs while they were pulled over the pair. 

  JJ sighed, letting go of some of his weight as he let his head fall into the crook of her neck. She giggled as he placed open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder. “I think I have more important things to take care of,” He muttered as her fingers trailed up into his hair. She giggled at his ticklish kisses. The sound of the phone stopped. “See, now we can go for another round-” 

  The shrill ring started again. JJ was conscious not to put all his weight on her as he slumped more. “JJ, just answer it and get whatever it is over. Maybe it’s important.” She urged him, pulling his face from her neck. 

  “Oh, I know who it is. They are still trying to torture me, I am sure,” He groaned, lifting himself up enough so he could grab his phone, holding himself up by one arm. Y/N let her hold on his hair drop, one hand rubbing up and down the arm he kept her caged in. He plopped the phone on the bed next to them, resuming their position. She could see Kie’s name on the phone, a picture of her she took once when she stole his phone as her contact. He hit answer before clicking the speaker phone button, settling against her body once again. “What?” He asked as Y/N went back to dragging her nails up and down his muscular back. 

  “What do you mean ‘what’, Maybank,” Kie’s angry voice sounded through the phone. JJ huffed, rolling his eyes as Y/N silently giggled. “You were supposed to call us two hours ago to tell us what happened and how it went.” She scolded him. 

  “Well, we were busy.” JJ snapped, looking down at Y/N, winking. 

  “Busy for two hours? What on earth-” Sarah cut her rant off, presumably because someone gave her a hint. “Well that’s good, right? That means you guys made up?” She spoke hopefully. JJ and Y/N looked at each other, ridiculous smiles on each of their faces. 

  “It is good.” Y/N agreed, eyes consumed by JJ. 

  “So, are you dating? Are you guys feeling it out? Tell us!” Sarah pressed, sounding like a kid on christmas morning. 

  “We’re dating. Officially and not secretly.” JJ informed them. Hoping this call will end soon. Y/N found herself wishing the same thing which made her start to press kisses along his chest, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He groaned, leaning his head down to lightly bite her shoulder - trying to stay quiet. But that only egged Y/N on. 

  “Say,” Pope’s voice popped up over the phone, pausing for a second. “You two aren’t in bed naked by any chance, are you?” He posed the question, most likely knowing the answer to it already. 

  “I think you already know the answer to that, Buddy.” John B spoke for JJ and Y/N.

  “What JB said.” JJ pulled his mouth away from Y/N’s shoulder. A chorus of disgusted noises and complaints left their friends.

  “How are you not grossed out by this, John B?” Kie questioned, her nose turned up. 

  “I told you not to call him! I told you they would be busy!” He defended himself as JJ hit the end call button, smacking his phone off the bed carelessly.

  “Another round?”

  “Another round.” He answered, lips crashing against hers as he settled his weight on her just enough to earn a hum from her.                

[stevesbipanic]

Under the Tree

Finally my contribution for @thefreakandthehair spicy six winter challenge. This was a lot of fun, my prompt was “Um, I got you something.” / “You got me something?” Hope you enjoy!

The first Christmas after the defeat of Vecna was an important one. It was the first Christmas that they didn’t have to worry about seeing flickering lights or brandishing weapons. The kids could be kids, and the adults could be too.

Steve Harrington could count on one hand the number of good Christmas’ he could remember. He assumed that the Christmas’ before he was 5 were adequate enough, but, the year he turned 5 he remembers his mother baking gingerbread with him and his dad playing basketball with him out on the driveway Christmas morning. They never would again. When he was 19, he spent Christmas with the Buckley’s. It was a warm Christmas filled with love and laughter; one he’ll treasure forever. This year, age 20, Steve hopes to add another good Christmas to his collection.

Joyce insisted on hosting, and no one was going to tell her no. After all, the Hopper-Byers now lived in a beautiful house just on the edge of the woods, you could bike to Hopper’s old cabin which had now been turned into a sort of club house for the kids, Hellfire was regularly held there now that Eddie had graduated. Steve had spent all of November getting gifts for his family, not his parents, he hadn’t heard from them since they sold the house and moved to Washington after the earthquake. No, his real family, he spent weeks making sure everyone got the perfect gift. He had had to hide Robin’s gift at Dustin’s now that he shared an apartment with her and was quite the snoop, not that Steve minded, he liked how intertwined their lives were. He had thought of hiding it at Nancy’s new place, but she had become less tight-lipped about secrets since her and Robin had gotten together.

That was another new thing, Robin and Nancy, the two who fell together so perfectly after everything that happened. Steve was the least surprised, when they told him he’d claimed it made sense due to him having great taste in women, they knew he was joking. Steve knew because he could see how well the two of the complimented each other. Nancy was patient and happy to listen and let Robin work through a problem by rambling. Robin was supportive but tough when it came to both Nancy’s goals but also her health. They had both taken gap years to revaluate their goals and desires while also taking a well-deserved break. The future could wait another year for them to have time to heal hidden wounds.

Steve was glad there was no bad blood between them and Jonathan, they’d all repaired their relationships over the years, figuring out platonic and romantic loves and wants, Steve could call Jonathan his brother (he was suspicious that Joyce had filled out adoption papers somewhere) and let old demons lie. With Jonathan had come Argyle, someone Steve didn’t know how the party went so long without. Argyle was a steadying presence, reminding them that they’re not defined by what happened to them and telling deep truths, usually high but the fact still stood. Steve was glad the two of them had each other, he could see years of emotional weight be lifted off Jon’s shoulders whenever Argyle was around.

Even the kids had matured, and not just in the way that trauma matures someone. Steve could see them let go of childish desires like the first love romance between Mike and El that grew into more a relationship like Steve and Nancy, stronger as friends. Dustin still called Suzie every weekend but Steve knew they both had a good head on their shoulders, he liked to think any kid that came from them would probably solve all the world’s problems in a day. Lucas and Max had worked so much on their communication, understanding each other’s needs now more than ever.

Maybe it’s why Steve had spent so long making sure they all had the perfect gift. A small part of Steve that still held doubt, a grain of doubt so rooted inside of him from childhood that it may never leave. The part of him that worried about being forgotten and left behind, the part of him that drove him to always be useful. He’d gotten high with Eddie in the first week of December and poured his heart out to him about it, Eddie hadn’t said anything in reply, he hadn’t needed to, Steve could see in his eyes they shared the same fears.

Eddie’s gift had been the most important, for reasons Steve could only confront in the safety of his own apartment, huddled under blankets with Robin late at night. Reasons that simultaneously made him feel whole and completely exposed. In the end the gift had been a mixtape, a perfect blend of their music tastes woven together with Steve telling Eddie about how the songs make him feel, about life, about Eddie, ending with his final confession. Steve hopes he doesn’t hear it until he gets home.

The party is in full swing, it had snowed the night before leaving plenty of soft snow to play in, distracting the kids from asking about presents until after dinner. They had all gathered around the tree, slowly but surely passing out gifts. Hugs and thanks were shared amongst the group, Steve felt his heart fill with warmth with every piece of gratitude or handmade card sent his way. Eddie’s eyes had twinkled when he’d read the tape’s description as being “Eddie’s Mix”, a promise for later dancing across his features. Paper picked up and clothes changed, the kids had settled in front of the television with mattress’ pulled from every room. Joyce and Hopper had retired with promises of making breakfast in the morning. The remaining two couples had either joined the kids or disappeared for their own festive celebration, leaving only Eddie and Steve finishing the dishes in the kitchen.

“So, a mix tape, Stevie? Do I have to worry about an hour long “Last Christmas” brainwashing?”

Steve had laughed putting away the last plate, Eddie had come over to help wrap presents and Steve’s record had gotten caught on the same track, they both nearly lost their minds.

“I can’t promise no Wham! but I think Last Christmas has had enough of a turn this year, Eds.”

Eddie smiled and took the edge of Steve’s sweater in his hands, grabbing a blanket and leading Steve out onto the porch. The two boys sat in the cold, huddled together under the blanket, listening to the quiet of the woods. The quiet brought them so much peace, no calls for help, no creatures to go bump in the night, just them and their heartbeats.

“Um, I got you something.”

“You got me something?” 

Eddie chuckled, “Of course I did, sweetheart, just didn’t want to put it with the rest of the gifts, didn’t think it would fit.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at this, “What is it?”

Eddie looked nervous now, slowly he pulled off one of his rings, it was one of the simpler ones. Steve always thought it stood out against the skulls and horror of the others. A small black stone set in silver, vines slicing through the metal. Eddie took Steve’s hand and slid the ring onto his finger.

“You always play with this one when you’re upset about something, figured it’d be better if you had it even when I wasn’t around.”

Steve felt seen, Eddie had comforted him through a lot after March, offering words and touch and even his ring to make Steve feel better.

“Eddie. Thank you.”

“Of course, Stevie.”

“But wait, how couldn’t this fit under the tree?”

“Well, there’s a second part to it, if you want it.”

Steve had missed many things in his life, but he didn’t miss the question in Eddie’s eyes.

“I’d really like the rest of my gift, Eddie.”

Eddie leant in slowly, still giving Steve the opportunity to move away, to say no, to leave Eddie behind. Steve didn’t though, he was never going to leave Eddie behind, would never forget him. Their lips touched, cold from the night air, and it felt like the final puzzle slotting into place. Eventually, they pulled away, just enough to catch their breath, foreheads still touching.

“Yeah, you would’ve looked weird with a bow on your head under the tree.”

“Maybe next year I’ll do it just for you.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t wait for next year, and every year after that he got to spend with Eddie.

[imaginexwwe]

HIS GIRL - Roman Reigns

JUST SOMETHING I HAD SITTING IN MY DRAFTS SINCE LAST YEAR ✍😅 MY FRIEND WHO'S NOT ON HERE AND DOESN'T WRITE HELPED WITH THE SEMI SPICY PART LOL 🤣

•

REAL NAMES WILL BE USED JUST CAUSE

•

Y|N AND JOE HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS SINCE MIDDLE SCHOOL AND HAVE EVEN FOOLED AROUND OCCASIONALLY BUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP SOON CHANGES WHEN NEW BOY COLBY LOPEZ ARRIVES

•

"I should get going, Joe." Y|N giggled, trying to wiggle out of his grip causing the guy next to her to tighten his grip. "Joseph, let go."

"I don't want you to go."

And I don't want to leave.

Y|N sighed.

Her lips slowly turning upwards into a smile as she unknowingly sunk deeper into his muscular arms.

Just hearing Joe say he didn't want her to leave made her stomach do backflips.

But she knew she had to stop herself before she got too deep in her feelings.

Like who was she kidding?

Joseph's her bestfriend.

Has been her best friend since the day they met when she was the new girl in school.

The first day of seventh grade, to be exact.

It was only recently that they had decided to give in to the temptation that had began lingering over them since their junior year of high school, and had, had sex.

It was Y|N's first time.

Not so much Joe's.

Of course, the man's like every girl's fantasy at school.

But that's beside the point.

Y|N had swore up and down that night she had allowed Joe to take her virginity that she could handle her emotions, and not be one of those clingy girls that all of a sudden wanted more than no strings attached.

Those girls that would ultimately find themselves wanting a relationship.

Wanting said bestfriend to be theirs and only theirs.

When deep down she had quickly became that girl.

All because she wanted her bestfriend to make her feel the way he had made those other girls feel.

It just so happen, Y|N was good at hiding how she felt.

But then there would be times like now, when Joe would say things like 'I don't want you to go.'

Something so simple that would only make Y|N long for something more, even more.

Get yourself together, before you ruin everything.

With another sigh, Y|N began wiggling again. "It's the night before the first day of senior year, Joe. I have to go home and get some sleep."

"Sleep here." Joe quickly replied, with a chuckle as he leaned over to nip at the skin on my neck, almost immediately causing me to close my eyes, and bit down on my lips. "Please."

Y|N shook her head, trying to fight off the urge to moan, as Joe's hand began to slide further and further down her body. "I have no clothes." She quickly blurted out, trying to think of any excuse to be let go.

"Wear something of mines." Joe countered with a smirk as his hand stopped. "You love stealing my stuff all the other times."

"My dads will be pissed." Y|N gasped out, feeling Joe's finger come in contact with her folds. "I'm not about to show up on the first day of my senior year dressed like you. And I know if I stay I won't be getting much sleep."

"Are you serious?" Joe questioned, looking over at Y|N in disbelief. "You really want to go? Right now?" His grip now loosened from around Y|N waist.

No!

"Well..." Y|N stuttered out, rolling over so that she could face Joe. "Maybe I can be a little late. But we have to be quick."

"No promises." She heard her bestfriend say, smirking, as he gripped Y|N's face, pulling her in for a kiss.

This boy will be the death of me.

•

"Looks like you and Joe had a good time." Trinity said, nudging Y|N with her elbow as she, Y|N and their other friend Liv walked down the hall at the end of school.

"Is it really noticeable..?" Y|N blushed, already knowing her friend was referring to the hickey Joe had marked her with last night when they were going for round two. "I was up at six this morning covering this thing up."

Thank goodness the other three are in a place they won't see, Y|N thought, giggling to herself.

Liv shrugged, playfully rolling her eyes at her friend. "Well, it looks like you need a touch up."

"I'll put more on in the ca-"

Before Y|N could finish what she was saying, a male voice was heard calling out to her.

"Who's he?" Liv was the first to ask, as the three girls turned their attention to the unrecognizable boy calling out to Y|N.

"Oh..." Y|N spoke with a smile. "The new guy, Colby. He just moved to Florida from Iowa."

Trinity laughed, eyeing her friend. "And how do you know all of this?" She asked, taking note of the instantaneous smile that formed on Y|N's face.

"He's in my first and second period."

And before either one of her friends could think of anything else to say or question her about, Y|N had walked off heading over to Colby.

•

"Is that Y|N?" Joe heard his cousin Jonathan ask as him and Jon's younger twin brother Joshua turned a corner in school, heading for the double doors to leave out the school building.

Joe stopped in his tracks, looking in the direction that his younger cousin was looking.

Seeing none other than Y|N.

And some guy he didn't know.

"Who's that guy she's talking to?"

"Oh, that's the new guy, Cory." Jon answered.

"It's Colby." Josh spoke up, correcting his brother. "He's the new kid from Iowa. He's in first period with me and Y|N."

Joe nodded, his eyes locked on his bestfriend as she was deep in conversation with Colby.

Even when Joe tried to tear his eyes away, he couldn't.

And for some reason, the longer he watched the more his blood began to boil.

Wait, why was his blood boiling?

Y|N's talked to guys other than him and his cousins before.

Hell she's even dated guys before.

She's even been out a few times with guys since they began fooling around.

And Joe's never had a problem before.

But then again, he's never had to watch Y|N talk to a guy other than him, his family and a few mutual guy friends.

People that went to school here knew Y|N was Joe's.

And because of that she was off limits.

So, he most definitely didn't want to start having to watch some clueless ass new guy step on his territory.

Now that he's got a good thing going on with her.

As if someone was controlling him, Joe had quickly made his way over to where Y|N stood, laughing with the new guy, Colby.

"Hey, beautiful." He greeted Y|N, leaning down giving Y|N a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

That's my girl, Joe thought smirking into the kiss as Y|N almost immediately kissed back.

•

Okay.

What.

The.

Fuck?

Y|N slowly pulled away from the kiss, her hand on Joe's chest as she pushed him back.

Where did that come from?

She could feel heat rising to her face as she stood there for a second or two trying to catch her breath after Joe's spontaneous tongue filled kiss.

And 'hey beautiful?'

When did Joe start addressing her as beautiful?

Don't get it wrong, Joe has always been the main guy to call her beautiful or make her feel beautiful but that was maybe when Y|N was showing off a new outfit or you know, when they're having sex or whatever.

But addressing by saying beautiful?

That's new.

She wasn't even sure if he's ever even addressed her as babe, or even baby before.

So why now?

Y|N looked up at Joe for the first time since he came over to her and stuck his tongue down her throat seeing a new emotion that she's never seen before.

Jealousy.

Joseph was jealous over something I was doing?

Could he be feeling the things I've been feeling for him lately, for me?

"I'm sorry about that, Colby." Y|N said embarrassingly as she tried to focus her attention on her new friend, while also taking notice of how close Joe was pulling her in to him. "This is Joe."

"Colby." The guy she's only met this morning during class said a smile on his face as he stretched out a balled up fist to Joe seemingly to give him a fist bump.

Joe nodded, ignoring Colby's gesture. "I heard Y|N." He mumbled turning to Y|N dropping his arm from around Y|N's waist. "I'm ready to go."

Y|N nodded taking note of his tone.

It wasn't something she liked considering it didn't seem like the Joseph she'd known since she was twelve.

But at the same time he was her ride home and because of her being unable to say no to a second round with Joe last night, she was on the verge of being grounded by her dads after coming home half an hour after her curfew.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She said to Colby, before turning and walking off with Joe.

•

Joe walked to his car, an slightly angry Y|N leading the way as she stomped ahead, her arms crossed over her chest.

This is gonna be a long ride.

Seeing Y|N had reached his car before him, Joe used his key fob to unlock the car giving her access.

About a minute later, Joe had finally gotten settled in the car and had thrown his backpack in the backseat next to Y|N's.

"What the hell was that?" He heard Y|N ask, her head snapping in his direction as he put his key in the ignition, starting his car engine. "And don't ask what like you don't know I'm talking about you shoving your damn tongue down my throat."

"I thought you loved my tongue." Joe fake gasped, pretending to be hurt bu Y|N insinuating she didn't enjoy their kiss.

Y|N blushed, rolling her eyes. "I do love your tongue Joe." She replied. "But that's not what I mean."

"Then I'm confused."

"You've never done something like that at school, Joe. That's what I'm trying to say." Y|N tried explaining, hoping Joe was catching on to what she was saying or trying to say.

"I've never had to." Joe replied, glancing over at his bestfriend. "I've never felt like someone was threatening me."

Y|N scoffed. "How was Colby threatening you? All he was doing was talking to me."

"I don't know." Joe mumbled. "It's just everybody at school knows you're mine but here comes some new kid and he's basically flirting with you." He added. "I just wanted him to know you're my girl."

"Really?"

"Really, Y|N." Joe quickly answered, unaware of the way Y|N thought he meant when he said she was his girl.

Joe did mean it when he said Y|N was his girl.

He won't even deny that he's got actual romantic feelings for her to anyone, other than Y|N herself.

But he didn't mean it as he plan to stop seeing his other flings.

After all him and Y|N had an understanding.

And him getting jealous didn't mean much right?

As long as Y|N kept her romances out of his sight and she stayed away from that new kid, this thing between him and his bestfriend was good.

•

Y|N smiled, while also side eying her bestfriend.

She wasn't stupid.

Which was why she knew Joe hadn't meant that she was his in a way she'd hoped he'd meant.

But that was fine.

Cause atleast now Y|N knew Joe had enough feelings for her that he would get jealous over her simply talking to a guy.

After all he wouldn't have gotten jealous over someone he just saw as a friend who he enjoyed having sex with from time to time...

Right?

One thing's for sure Y|N had more hope in this moment than she did last night when they were together.