suffermaze

[suffermaze]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer comforts you with facts and affection alike when you worry you aren't as pretty as the girls on his team. requested here. fem!reader, 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Photographs can't accurately capture how beautiful Emily Prentiss is. JJ and Penelope are both gorgeous too, but it's Emily who startles you. Her hair a cool black colour and curled around her demure face, the line of her nose and her deep, dark eyes. Her lips, picture perfect and painted a soft pink.

The prettier you find her, the more your heart sinks. 

Spencer squeezes your shoulder. It's bold for him to do so in front of his friends (his family, really), he can barely show you affection in the grocery store without turning rosy. You preen at the touch, but the feeling of insecurity remains like an irksome gnat zipping around your head. 

"We didn't think we'd ever get to meet you!" Derek is saying, a casual arm thrown around Penelope's shoulders, a drink in hand. 

Rossi couldn't attend and JJ felt too pregnant, bringing your party to a solid six. It still feels like a lot of people to meet at once. 

You hold the flute of your glass in a nervous hand, fingers stickied by condensation. You have a feeling that you're in trouble, all these profilers assessing your behaviour, nowhere to hide. "No, I'm," —you raise your voice to hide the funny tremor that's taken hold— "so happy to meet you all, I promise I've been trying!" 

"Whenever she gets time off, we're on a case," Spencer says. 

Emily smiles widely at your statement. It's such an open, friendly look, it floors you. You look down at your drink and blink. 

You don't know it, but the team exchanges glances at your behaviour. 

"So, do you enjoy your work?" Emily asks. "Or hate it, like us?"

Hotch laughs and moves his pint glass onto a coaster. "I think it's safe to say that none of us hate our jobs." 

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I can't imagine how hard it is, how hard you all work," you say. Spencer's hand drifts down your back. "But you have each other."

Emily does this thing with her eyes and if you weren't in a happy relationship, you'd probably be a puddle at her feet. "Too much of each other," she says jokingly.

She's gorgeous, and Spencer sees her every single day? You're nothing compared to her. Not smart, not strong, and nowhere near as pretty. You could never measure up. 

"Would you, um, excuse me?" you ask, moving your purse from your lap and onto the table. 

"You okay?" Spencer asks, looking up as you stand. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gonna use the bathroom," you say quietly. You aren't, but if you were, you wouldn't really want to broadcast that anyhow. 

You try not to wobble on the way to the bathroom. The weight of five pairs of eyes follows you as you leave, four of which are trained in the art of spotting lies. Everything isn't okay, and they know that, and by extension —all the effort you made tonight? Getting your hair done, your nicest clothes, your makeup and your perfume? It might as well be a huge blinking neon sign that says you're trying really hard, and it doesn't make a lick of difference. 

You sidle into a stall, pulling the lid of the toilet down with a tissue and sitting on it heavily. Elbows on your knees, you hunch your back and hide your face in your hands, breathing in the smell of bleach through quick breaths. Water drips somewhere near the sinks, the cacophony of the restaurant hushed. 

You've never felt naturally pretty. With Spencer, it hasn't ever mattered. He's never given any indication that he cares. But… 

"Loser," you mutter to yourself. 

"Hey, Y/N?" Spencer asks, his voice bouncing off of the tile. 

You freeze. "Two seconds!" 

"You're not really using the bathroom," he says incredulously. 

"Says who?"

Spencer laughs, his tone wry, "I know you really well, you realise? Like, better than I know anyone else on the planet."

"Then you know I'm having an authentic pee and need my privacy." 

"Come on out." 

The ringing of the lock slotting free is like an announcement of your embarrassment. Spencer's standing a half a foot from the doorway, keeping his distance from the no man's land that is the ladies room. You're going to use it to your advantage, only he holds out his hand expectantly. When you take it, he pulls you out of the bathroom and firmly into the restaurant hallway. 

You can't escape his concern, nor his hands as they cup your face unexpectedly. 

They feel as nice as they look, deft fingers pressed to your skin like you're one of his puzzles to decipher. 

"What upset you?" he asks. 

"Nothing your friends did, I promise." 

"But something." He smooths a hand down to your shoulders. He's not quite frenetic but certainly close to it, searching for a problem he won't find on the surface. "You're insecure about something," he deduces. 

You cringe bodily. "I'm not." 

"What is it? Is it your necklace? It really is nice, the colour goes with your skin. It's understated." 

"It's not my necklace, Spence." 

"Then what is it?" 

"I just…" You pull his hands from your neck and collar to hold them, looking up into his melty brown eyes wishing he weren't so hard to say no to. "Feel like you could do better." 

He frowns. It's a pout, and endearing, but not what you want to see. 

"I love being with you, I just think, you know, you're so handsome, and you have all these pretty friends," you say.  

"You think you're not pretty?" he asks. He sounds gutted, if a little confused. 

"Not like her." Your voice quivers. 

The first time you got upset in front of Spencer, he wasn't sure what to do. He ended up putting an arm around your shoulder, your brand new boyfriend out of his depth. You've both had some practice at comforting one another now, and any hesitance Spencer held is gone. He wraps his arms around you like he's afraid you'll fall over, the crease of his stressed brow smushing against the side of your face. 

"Don't think that. Why would you think that?" he asks quietly. 

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls," you say, surprised by the ferocity of his reaction. 

"You don't know that, because it's not true. You're beautiful." He squeezes your side between his fingers, something contemplative about the way his thumb curls upward. "Do you know how many books I've read?" 

"Thousands." 

He hums. A hand grasps at the back of your neck. "Thousands of books. I know so much, especially about the human body. I know that falling in love can make some people feel the same effects as cocaine. Staring into their eyes can synchronise your heartbeats." He encourages your head back. "Butterflies are adrenaline and when I look at you I can't get them to stop, even if I know it's chemical." Spencer's eyes are lit with something you don't often see directed at you, a furious conviction. "What we think we know isn't always fact, so if you think you're not pretty…" He nods his head gently to the left. "There's only really one thing left to do." 

Your heart feels like it's being juiced. "What's that?" you ask. 

He grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. Fingertips to his breastbone, he holds it flat. Sure enough, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, you can feel the rapid capering of his pulse. 

"It's like that pretty much any time I look at you." 

"Spence…" 

"I know it's bad," he says.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Yeah, I did a lap before I came to find you– No!" He laughs, giving you an admonishing look. "Why would I mess with you? How could I?" 

"I don't know." 

He dips in to kiss your frown. "You're so pretty," he whispers. "So, so pretty. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, no matter what you think." 

You don't believe that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, but you believe that he believes it. He has no reason to lie to you, nothing to gain. He could've said, Hey, you're pretty, and left it at that. He could've been angry with you for leaving the table for something some people would say was superficial. But Spencer's your sweetheart. 

"Do you want to go home, angel?" he asks, looking at you worriedly. 

"No." You don't even have to think about it —you've done enough thinking. "I don't want to go home. Sorry, Spencer. I feel better." And you'll stay out all night if he's going to call you angel again. 

"Well, let me know if you need me to tell you again." 

The chances of you surviving such an ardent speech a second time are low. "I won't be doing that." 

Spencer shrugs. "You'll let me know, even if you don't think so. You have a tell when you're upset." 

You spend the rest of the night making up for your disruption (which Spencer's friends immediately dismiss without questioning), shepherding the crisper curly fries on to Spencer's plate because he likes them that way, and begging him to tell you what your tell is with subtle pleading glances and a hand on his knee. Nothing inappropriate, but affectionate nonetheless. 

He doesn't tell you no matter how much you ask, and maybe it's the drinks or the way the scone light kisses his cheeks in a warm buttery light, you can't find it in you to be mad. 

"Keep your secrets," you say, chin tilted upward. You're failing to glare at him, too much love in your eyes for it to be believable. 

"You're beautiful," he says back, mirroring your expression playfully, before leaning down for a chaste kiss. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! if you did, please consider reblogging, it makes a big difference to me<3 have a good day!

[suffermaze]

controlling | eddie munson

summary: Eddie believed that the best way to deal with his feelings would be to push you away, and he took it too literally, treating you in the worst way possible before declaring himself completely. And now desperately feeling like he needed to apologize for it. 4.5k (smut)

At first, Eddie truly believed that things would be different after he said everything he had spent so much time planning to say. After he opened up to you completely, body and soul. He believed it would be easier to deal with the mess in his head, that he would be calmer in your presence. And he hated knowing that he was completely wrong. He even found it ironic that someone as intelligent as he was simply couldn’t understand anything that was happening to him.

He couldn’t stop revisiting that damned night when he confessed everything to you and finally freed himself from the chains that kept him in that prison of feelings. He tortured himself over the way he had acted with you, believing that the best way to handle the situation was to treat you with a certain rudeness and anything that would somehow make you stay away because he thought it would be easier to forget what he felt for you if he simply pretended you didn’t exist.

He hadn’t had exactly enough time to make up for all that, to make up for the way he said all those things. And now, that was the only thing he could think about: how much he owed you a sincere apology, at the very least. How he needed to tell you directly that he had been an idiot and that he could have done something completely different, that he should have been less cowardly and faced you and everything you made him feel once and for all.

He brooded over this every night, pacing back and forth in the trailer, wondering if he should just act like an idiot again, but this time in the right way. He tried to stay sane, thinking about how strange it would be to go to your house in the middle of the night, out of nowhere, or if it would bother you if he called every 5 minutes to ask if everything was okay, as he wanted.

Eddie did his best to endure the torture he had, willingly or not, put himself into, but one night, lost track of time and too tired to think clearly about anything, he found himself thinking about how empty his hands felt now, almost as if they had forgotten the sensation of having your skin against them, as if the touch was a source of vital energy for him. He thought he was going crazy for a moment but swore his hands started to tingle from the lack just by thinking about you, in a lapse of memory.

As a strange and ironic confirmation of some higher power, a thunderclap was heard around the metal walls, the metallic blue light illuminating the whiskey glass slightly sweating from the remaining liquid in the glass, indicating that not even the drink would be enough to take the itch out of his head. And that, in reality, it had had the completely opposite effect of its initial purpose. Perhaps even as an excuse because deep down he was fully aware of every decision he made after the adrenaline shock he swore he had gotten from the lightning falling outside his window…

He didn’t bother to protect himself from anything, honestly, like an umbrella or a coat, he couldn’t bear to wait another second. He had already memorized your address; not maliciously, but because the idea of just going to you had crossed his mind so many times in the past few days, always stopped at the last second with the thought that "it would be too strange"; that he faithfully relied on the memory of the first time he took you home, running through the streets of Hawkins like an idiot until he was in front of your door.

Another thunder was needed for Eddie to snap out of that state of ecstasy at that moment, eyebrows raised as the vision became increasingly difficult due to the rainwater running down his face, wet bangs falling over his eyes.

He reconsidered more than once how insane he seemed now for having taken such an action and turned back, stopping as he reached the street and forcing himself to believe that nothing really mattered. He would risk anything just to see your face again, to have a real and present glimpse of his daily dreams, right in front of him. And like an idiot, he now looked around your garden, too inert within his own head, looking for any hint of color among the mossy green grass that painted the yards of the houses, now somewhat gray due to the rain, thinking how ironic the situation was so similar to his thoughts days ago. When everything to him was gloomy, colorless, until you appeared and colored everything all at once, showing him that the world could indeed be lived and real.

Almost as if reliving a flashback, the glimpse of blue petals, the color of your blouse the first time you met, appeared like a beam of light in his field of vision, forcing him to act without thinking again. In a flowerbed that separated the yard's boundary between your house and the neighbor’s, blue chrysanthemums of distinct shades illuminated the place, almost as if only there the sun shone based on some spell or something, or perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks and creating illusions to fill the sense of withdrawal that insisted on creating space within himself.

The scene was somewhat ridiculous, looking from the outside. A boy of about twenty, completely soaked and barely able to stand on the slippery grass under his boots, tried to pluck a bunch of flowers with only his hands, just enough to make a mini bouquet, which he held with the tips of his fingers so small were the flowers. Some petals were crushed by the little care, due to impaired vision. And you, also awake far beyond a normal hour for your own good, stood in the doorway, one hand above your eyes, trying to make it easier to see the cause of the strange noise outside, so late at night, only not causing a scandal because you quickly realized what was happening. Even confused, you didn’t want to interrupt because, honestly, it was too fun to watch the show, extremely adorable, actually. It was hard to control the urge to laugh when a silly smile marked your face to the point of making your cheeks ache, against your will.

"Eddie?" Your voice carried a false innocence, startling the boy so much that he jumped in place, turning so quickly he almost fell to the ground, tripping over his own feet, eyes wide both from fright and from being caught red-handed.

"HEY!" He yelled back, grimacing in instant regret upon realizing the tone of his voice, clearing his throat as if trying to disguise it. He walked toward you now with firm steps, trying his best to pretend to be natural. "Hi…"

"What…" Now with eyebrows furrowed, pondering the best way and, strangely for you, the least mean way to ask that. "What are you doing here? In this rain?"

"I needed to see you." There wasn’t a hint of shame in his voice when he admitted that, which made you gasp with your own breath as you sucked it in so hard, as if you felt your heart needing more and more air as it beat harder and harder.

In a smooth motion, the taller boy brought the bouquet to you, and you couldn’t control a shy giggle and an eye roll in response. It was strange for you, that feeling, used to flattery, to perfect and valuable things, but that bouquet of crushed flowers, plucked from your own garden... that was the best gift you had received in a long time. And maybe you weren’t thinking that exactly about the flowers.

"You’re going to catch a cold, are you crazy?" You replied, the nervousness forcing you to break the silence you swore you had already gotten used to, and you saw him just shrug and lightly shake his head, eyes indicating he didn’t care about that, as if he was immune to any kind of setback or bad weather if it meant being close to you again. The eyes indicating much more than just that…

"I think you better take off those clothes." You added, grabbing him by the collar with a not-so-subtle smile as you pulled him inside.

Eddie could be many things, but he wasn’t stupid, and he understood very well when something was said with more than one meaning or intention. Running his tongue over his lips, and smiling with some malice, he closed the door behind him with his hand, letting himself be guided through the rooms without caring much to focus his eyes on anything other than you.

That game had amused him from the beginning, acting as if he were a kind of servant to you, doing everything you commanded without hesitation, always obeying silently. And he liked it, honestly, he had always been an altruistic person. He loved doing everything for others, especially when he loved others more than anything.

But he missed one thing since he met you. He was used to controlling everything; he was responsible for the band, the master of the RPG sessions, the boss of everything. Nothing shook him more than the way he had completely lost control over himself, over his thoughts, his actions, over everything…

He needed to feel that control back.

In the beginning, he let you believe you were in control, almost like a sadistic little plan to deceive you that way. He allowed you to pull him into the bedroom, a certain look of superiority never leaving his eyes. He let you sit on the bed and pull him closer by wrapping your legs around his. Your hands, still holding onto his collar, now slid to the buttons of his wet shirt, unbuttoning them slowly, one by one, in a sort of provocation, as if you were fighting a battle, a game of who could last longer. A game in which you swore you were winning, as you always did.

The shirt, now completely open, slid down his arms, and the sight elicited a genuine gasp from you, seemingly against your will, as if you wanted to hide how affected you were by it. A sign, almost invisible, that all your confidence and firmness were nothing but an act, pure pretense. He could very well notice the blush on your cheeks, or the desperate way your chest rose and fell, about to explode. A volcano trying to fight against its own nature.

His cold hand brought you out of your reverie, holding your chin with the tip of his index finger and thumb, forcing you to look up and causing a shock from the warmth present in your skin. And observing him like that, from below, eyes shining with so much desire, it was at that moment he understood he could do whatever he wanted, that you longed for it as much as he did.

A proud smile appeared at the corner of his lips, a husky, mischievous laugh and a look of false pity hitting you from above, that was enough for you to completely reveal what you truly thought. Your legs trying to close automatically, an anguish to try to relieve, even if just a little, the desire that was beginning to grow and pulse between them. Just that movement was enough to elicit a malicious laugh from the other.

Without any prior warning, the taller one's free hand took advantage of the opening and slid between your thighs, eliciting a slightly anguished gasp from your throat, completely throwing you off balance with the sudden touch. It was torturous, and he loved seeing the plea present in your eyes.

"I haven't even done anything, and you're already like this?" There was false pity in his eyes, nothing matching his firm, almost degrading tone of voice. Pressing his fingers more and more against the sweatpants; making you growl as if begging for more, as if cursing the fabric preventing the touch from being direct; he brought his face closer to yours, lips brushing against each other, you automatically wanting to close the space between them, and he held your face more firmly, now with his whole palm in a firm enough grip, whispering: "I didn't know it would be so fun to play with you like this…"

"Idiot." You retorted, trying to regain your strength, to remain firm once again, holding his wrist with your hands, even though you didn't have enough strength to push him away or stop him from holding you like that.

Anyway, even if your effort was completely in vain, that reaction had the opposite effect, giving him the strength to tease you even more. A frustrated sigh escaped when he quickly removed his hand from between your legs, forcing you to stifle a moan in your throat to not give him the pleasure of victory. Now with his free hand, he began to remove his own belt - with no difficulty, you noticed - so slowly, intentionally, just observing the effect it would have on you, how your eyes would react. You stared at him, uncertain, trying to decipher him, and it was fun, completely fun, to make you feel in his place, to switch roles.

"I thought you were past this phase, darling. We're grown-ups, aren't we?" Everything that came out of his mouth was sticky like honey, dripping with sarcasm, his eyes waiting for a response he knew wouldn't come, because all of that echoed inside you, turning into an almost inhuman fervor, and all your strength was gathered to not give in completely. "Do I really have to teach you how to obey?"

And without any effort, the hand holding your face soon freed itself from your grip, switching positions and now taking hold of your wrist, eliciting a surprised and slightly incredulous gasp from your mouth.

Something that always crossed your mind, several times a day - when you saw him holding a can of soda or the paperwork he had prepared for that afternoon's session, or when he held your face in the first kiss, or comparing with the flowers today a few minutes earlier - was how big his hands were compared to you. And that realization only proved true now, when he could hold both your arms with just one of his, placing them behind your back with a tenderness completely different from his tone of voice or the dark way his eyes looked at you now, while the belt wrapped around your wrists and tied them firmly, now matching what his face conveyed. The grip was so strong that the leather lightly hurt your skin, especially if you tried to move your hands, purposely preventing you from doing so.

Leaving you completely vulnerable and giving him enough freedom to use his hands as he pleased, he began to analyze you in that way, savoring every second of the scene, gathering resources to store in his mind, also pondering where to start, what to do. It would be a lie to say he had never thought about it before, but whenever he tried, he felt a bit dirty, wrong, and forced himself to stop. He never planned anything concrete, now finding himself before an entire ocean of possibilities in which he was completely willing to get lost without a chance of rescue.

Wanting to witness every tiny reaction of your body, and also with a certain fear of moving away the touch he longed for so long, he slid his hands down your arm again, so subtly to the point of almost not touching, just to feel you shudder under his fingertips. He traced the path in this same way, playing with your exposed collarbone in the tank top, lingering a bit more as he went down the side of your breasts, belly, until he found the hem of the shirt, gripping the fabric between his fingers.

"Let's start by evening the playing field here." He joked. His breathing was labored, and you refused to say anything, as a kind of stubbornness. But he knew you loved all of this as much as he did, knew very well that if you wanted to stop, you could just say it, he would never do anything you didn't want, both were aware of that, and no reprimand from you only gave him more strength to continue.

So, making sure he could continue, he began to undress you, lifting the fabric over your body, the anticipation exploding in his chest. He made sure to go through the whole process looking you straight in the eyes, as if the feeling of preventing his own satisfaction also amused him. And only when he let the fabric slide down your arms on its own did he allow himself to lower his eyes, even becoming disoriented by the sight. Suddenly, the air became rarefied, and he had to control himself to not get carried away.

He closed his eyes, feeling trapped now in his pants, but enjoying the pain it caused him, as if he could only have his own reward after satisfying you completely first.

"I wonder how much I can take from you just here." He says, an almost challenging look facing you while his index finger slides between your breasts. It's possible to notice the desperation that starts to take over you as the touch slowly approaches the center, already hardened long before, fighting with all your might not to make it obvious to him, not to admit defeat.

But it's impossible to control yourself when he palms your chest, pushing you against the bed just so he can position himself on top of you, arms resting on either side of your body. And then, he brings his face closer to your now completely exposed skin, the breath teasing there already enough to elicit an instinctive gasp.

Still holding firm, fighting with everything you had in you, one of his hands started to play with the drawstring of the sweatpants, eliciting an impatient groan from you in response, which made him laugh lightly in approval. All that torture drove him completely insane, as if he were drinking from an insatiable fountain.

"I could spend the whole night doing this…" He says, lightly sinking his fingers just to reach the panties that were even wetter than his own clothes.

"Eddie, please…." That was all you could say, no strength left to endure all that delay, you were desperate for him to touch you. Truly, with enough force to feel him completely.

"What was that? Are you already begging?" Another laugh followed when you whimpered, nodding. You felt trapped, suffocating while that damn fabric still clung to your skin. And a relieved sigh emerged as he slid the pants down your legs with a certain brutality, almost scaring you. "You look beautiful like this, so vulnerable."

He teased, moving back on top of you, now with his knee placed calculatedly between your legs, lightly brushing against your hot skin. That was already enough for you to moan loudly, relieved, echoing throughout the room. It was like music to his ears.

"Is this what you want?" His voice was now almost sympathetic, a false empathy present as he pressed his knee higher and higher, making you arch your back in an attempt to increase the contact.

His fingers resumed their play along your torso, leisurely wandering over your skin, making you squirm when he touched certain specific spots, and that filled him with pride, proving he knew exactly what he was doing.

Extended over your neck, until finding your lips pressed against each other to contain the moans that insisted on escaping from such a soft touch, a certain fear of wounding your own pride, of surrendering so easily. His fingerprints tracing the perfectly defined cupid's bow, wondering how it would feel to have them around you, and contenting himself with keeping the idea nurtured only in thought. He had decided that night he would delight only in tasting you. Nothing more. He would be completely devoted to you, like the most faithful of servants to his deity.

"Open." He ordered, his voice hoarse but still firm, his gaze darkening at your refusal, an attempt to reclaim the game, to regain his ego once shaken. Another sadistic giggle followed soon after. "Tsk... you know it's useless, I have total power over you here. You will do what I say."

And to prove his point, he leaned a little more, his own lips now tracing the path to your breasts, enveloping them without hesitation, drawing the moan trapped at the tip of your tongue with his tongue twirling over the sensitive skin, dancing to the rhythm of his own music.

His thumb now holding your lower lip, gently, and being carefully placed inside your mouth, indeed preventing you from externalizing any kind of sound, compressing your reactions only to your body that contorted slightly in the little space, having nowhere to run. Everything happened at once, it was impossible to focus on just one thing, it was too much, you were almost overwhelmed.

The thumb soon gave way to the middle and ring fingers, indicating exactly what the next step would be. you coated his fingers with your own saliva, no longer caring about your reputation or what he might think of you. you were already lost, there was no turning back, why insist on delaying your own pleasure? you couldn't stand waiting any longer. And honestly, as fun as it was, he longed to hear you beg for more and more, he was almost sick thinking about it, prolonging something that had consumed his body with anticipation in the last few days.

Perhaps that's why he let himself be carried away so quickly, now knowing the perimeter, he could think of different, unimaginable strategies, he could prepare better, with more firmness next time.

He moved his knee a few centimeters, and it was then that your eyes became teary from the unbearable feeling of being without his touch. you were burning, ablaze, and nothing had yet been enough to satiate you. But you didn't even have time to truly feel that emptiness, because soon the man's fingers enveloped the peak where all your nerve endings concentrated. Surprisingly, he knew exactly where to touch, how to touch, how to play with his fingers. The movements started slowly, exploring the entire area, as if studying it, discovering every possibility, every reaction to each touch. He explored until you couldn't take it anymore, accelerating the now circular movements more and more, his other hand gripping one of your thighs, forcing your legs to open as wide as they could.

"I need more." A plea escaped your lips, almost like a cry, and Eddie tilted his head to the side, finally sensing the perfect opening to ask for what he had waited for all night.

"I don't hear you begging for it." The way he spoke the words against your mouth was almost cruel, before kissing you with an almost sickly smile on his lips.

"P-please..." His movements became more precise, as if trying to make it purposefully difficult for you to form any solid thought, making it impossible to say any word clearly.

"Yes?" The sobs interrupted your breathing, and it was possible to see the desperation in your eyes as you tried with all your might to obey.

"I... E-eddie. I-I... beg... I beg. P-please." He could have easily teased more, not accepted just that, but he felt exactly how you melted against his fingers that hadn't even been inserted yet, that only this time he accepted it and finally let you melt with his fingers inside you.

you had already lost any sense of reality, you felt submerged in hot lava, completely lost. There was no point in swimming against it, only letting yourself burn. And when it became simply unbearable to hold the eruption inside you, you were stopped at the last moment, letting out a loud cry in a mix of frustration and desperation.

"N-no.... P-please... I-I need..." you didn't have the strength to even finish any reasoning, and tried to bring your legs together once again to satisfy yourself, being once again stopped by the two hands that now gripped your thighs to keep them completely apart from each other.

"Not yet, dear, I need to know your taste first." The way he admitted it was almost a plea, he admitted with such sincerity that for a moment it seemed he had become someone completely different, completely honest, setting aside any remnants of sadism that had remained present throughout the process.

He left another kiss on your lips, a tender, welcoming kiss, before tracing the same path as his hands down there. The air escaping his nose, interrupted, already provoking against the pulsing skin inside your legs, and then his mouth devouring without warning everything he could reach, sucking you completely.

His lips felt so familiar that your heart ached. The tense, firm, assertive muscles. your body sinking against his tongue, as if trying to make him fill every space he could. The sounds you made were incredibly beautiful, almost angelic, as if he was committing a sin by listening to them, as if it were forbidden for a mere mortal to witness.

He felt like Icarus, flying fearlessly towards the sun, not caring at all about burning when touching it. And caring even less about falling, unraveling, when he felt he was reaching the skies.

Eddie kissed you there with such eagerness that neither of them could take much more. you melted against the boy's mouth, and he drank the warm liquid like a god savoring mead for the first time, feeling even more powerful than titans and any force. He wondered if this was what paradise felt like, and was absolutely certain that nothing could ever be better than this.

Tears ran down your face, he noticed, as soon as he finished consuming everything he was entitled to from you, and a tired smile appeared on his face. He wanted more, he wanted to repeat and repeat that all night tirelessly, but he didn't want to exhaust you in any way.

"You are mine." His voice was filled with dominance, as if wanting to prove, to ensure, that he would have you in his hands whenever he wanted, and that he could use you with everything he had inside him the moment you were completely rejuvenated.

"I am yours." you replied, in a whisper almost inaudible from the lack of air, but your eyes emphasized enough what your voice couldn't say.

With almost stunning care, a somewhat frightening discrepancy compared to the way he acted seconds ago, Eddie released your hands and picked you up, observing how your legs trembled uncontrollably. you buried your face against his neck, wrapping yourself even more in the embrace, and both went to the bathroom, so he could do what he had planned from the beginning. To take care of you, to ensure that everything would indeed be fine, now being certain that he could do all this without worrying about the reaction from the other side.

After all, you were his, completely. Just as he was yours, completely.

[suffermaze]

simplesmente a maior loba desse site!

into you | enzo vogrincic

sumário: onde você é uma atriz em ascensão e se apaixona pelo queridinho de hollywood, mas não faz ideia de que ele sente o mesmo. 5k.

em um futuro próximo onde o enzo estoura em hollywood*

você esfregou uma mão na outra, sentindo o suor fazendo-as deslizar mais facilmente. toda vez que estava nervosa, a produção de suor em seu corpo aumentava pelo menos umas 5 vezes mais, e era um péssimo momento para aquilo, o que apenas contribuiu para que a situação se intensificasse.

não querendo manchar seu vestido de suor, você deslizou suas mãos pelo banco de couro do carro, as limpando repetidamente. era perceptível a proximidade do local agora, com aglomerados de pessoas e câmeras por toda parte, você sabia que estavam chegando ao evento e não havia mais escapatória. esteve esperando por aquele momento por um longo tempo, era a premiére do seu primeiro filme com uma produção tão grande assim, e a repercussão de tudo aquilo era maior do que você imaginava. 

todo aquele sucesso era incrível e assombroso ao mesmo tempo, algo sempre sonhado mas nunca realmente achou que poderia acontecer. e agora, tudo acontecia bem debaixo de seu nariz. as pessoas estavam ansiosas, comentando sobre, especulando até mesmo sobre sua vida fora das telas. sobre sua carreira, sua rotina, ou coisas bobas como sua preferência de pedido do starbucks, mas principalmente, sobre seu suposto envolvimento com seu co-star, enzo vogrincic. parecia algo absurdo na sua cabeça. como as pessoas chegavam a essa conclusão? 

vocês haviam se tornado bons amigos ao longo das filmagens, é claro. enzo sempre fora muito simpático e gentil, sempre a ajudando em meio às cenas difíceis e compartilhando de momentos descontraídos no set, seria difícil não se aproximar. além disso, era impossível não notar o quão absolutamente lindo e charmoso ele é, há uma aura inexplicável sob o ator, mas isso era algo que você tentava a custo ignorar. ele é mais velho e o queridinho de hollywood, com certeza tinha muitos admiradores e admiradoras caindo sob os seus pés. provavelmente, se envolvia com mulheres mais da sua idade, mais cultas, mais sofisticadas do que você, ao nível dele. não olharia para você desse jeito, você pensava. ah, mas quão enganada estava.

suspirando, chacoalhou a cabeça tentando se livrar desses pensamentos. não era hora para aquilo, não. em alguns segundos, você desceria do carro e teria de lidar com todo aquela loucura externa, então era melhor que se concentrasse no agora e não se enchesse de mais motivos para mais nervosismo. por uma última vez, checou seu reflexo no espelinho do carro, se certificando de estar impecável. e então, o veículo parou em frente a entrada do tapete vermelho.

havia uma pressão imensa sob seus ombros e uma dor em seu estômago, reclamando de fome. nem comer você havia conseguido, e agora aquele ronco em sua barriga te cobrava. com um exercício de respiração, você tentou recuperar a normalidade de seus batimentos, mas parecia ser impossível ao ver tudo aquilo do outro lado da janela. era como ser posta em um microscópio, suscetível a qualquer julgamento.

o motorista a olhou pelo retrovisor e com um pequeno aceno de asseguramento você soube que era a hora de encarar aquilo de uma vez. alguém do lado de fora abriu a porta e uma brisa fria atingiu seu corpo, coberto por apenas o tecido perolado de seda do vestido. de primeiro momento, foi como se chacoalhassem seus ombros esperando uma reação e então, os gritos, os flashes, os chamados e o mar de gente acenando a acordaram. as pessoas pareciam felizes em te verem, mas não exatamente satisfeitas. seus olhares passam por você com rapidez e logo procuram por algo atrás, por algo a mais. você sabia exatamente o que queriam, ou melhor, quem.

de repente, é impossível de ouvir seus próprios pensamentos. gritos histéricos ecoam por todos os lados, as grades tremem e as pessoas entram em um frenesi emocional. enzo. e quando se vira, olhando por cima de seu ombro, lá está ele, maravilhoso em seu terno sob medida, sem nenhum fio de cabelo fora do lugar, ridiculamente lindo. por um momento, você tem vontade de se derreter. imergir em seu vestido se tornar uma ameba naquele tapete, mas quando seu olhar a encontra, você existe. está bem ali, apenas à espera dele.

seu coração parece querer explodir, as palmas de suas mãos mais escorregadias do que nunca, mas tenta seu melhor em parecer completamente normal. completamente não tendo uma síncope por estar em uma premiére do seu filme hollywoodiano com o cara mais bonito que já havia colocado os olhos e que com certeza estava apaixonada, que ocorre também de ser seu parceiro de trabalho.

enzo já está acostumado a momentos assim, nunca fora algo muito difícil para ele e sua natureza calma. parecia estar sempre pronto e composto. mas por algum motivo, esta noite é diferente. essa noite, seus pensamentos rondam sua cabeça sem parar. ele está seguro sobre o filme, confia em seu trabalho e a química de vocês nas telas foi incrível, disso ele tem certeza. o problema para ele era do outro lado das telas, longe das câmeras, algo mais entre sua mente e seu coração.

o ator sempre fora muito disciplinado, muito profissional, sabia muito bem dividir trabalho de vida pessoal, por mais que sua carreira tomasse quase todo seu tempo. nunca havia se envolvido com ninguém nos sets justamente por seu jeito de ser, queria se dedicar sempre ao profissional, até que apareceu você.

vocês nunca se envolveram, claro, ele ainda se esforçava para manter seus valores, porém as coisas em sua imaginação passavam bem longe disso quando vocês ficavam sozinhos. enzo se sentia tremendamente errado, pensando na forma que seus lábios se tocavam naquele beijo falso, pensando em como sua mão se encaixava tão bem ao redor da sua cintura e quão bom seria se ele a beijasse de fato. estava encantado com seu jeito, com sua risada e a forma que sua mente funcionava, ficava fascinado com sua atuação na frente das câmeras e vidrado por você fora delas. ele estava ficando louco por isso, era tudo o que passava em sua mente, o seu desafio pessoal até o fim das gravações e todo período de entrevistas. e agora, depois de algum tempo sem te ver, ele teria de lidar com seus sentimentos novamente.

quando enzo desceu do carro ele a viu antes de qualquer coisa naquele lugar. as pessoas, os flashes, os gritos, nada parecia prender sua atenção além de você, naquele vestido, com os lábios pintados de vermelho, radiante. estupidamente fascinante.

o ar fugiu de seus pulmões por um instante. e então, foi cegado pelas luzes e se lembrou de estar em público. automaticamente, levou a mão ao peito, posando para as câmeras, mas sem nem por um segundo, desviar a atenção de sua figura, o encarando com um sorriso tímido a alguns metros a frente. ele atendeu alguns fãs, agradeceu o público e caminhou até você, perto o suficiente para posicionar sua mão levemente sob sua lombar desnuda pelo caimento do vestido quando a abraçou, cuidadoso.

enzo pareceu perdido por uma fração de tempo quando se afastaram, fitando todo seu rosto, absorvendo os detalhes qual havia sentido tanta falta. você tentou manter o contato visual, o praguejando por dentro. a tensão poderia ser cortada com uma faca, e muito bem flagrada pelas câmeras. talvez os rumores tinham uma pontada de verdade, no final das contas.

“você está…” ele começou a dizer, mas parou por um segundo, bufando. uff. outra mania dele.

“eu sei, é estranho estar toda produzida assim!” você riu, nervosa, passando as mãos pelo vestido, inconscientemente.

“estonteante.” por fim, enzo completou. 

o jeito que ele pronunciou a palavra, tão sério e grave, a pegou de jeito, mandando um calafrio por todo seu corpo. de repente, o olhar do moreno ficou tão intenso que parecia penetrar fundo em sua alma. você sentiu seu coração falhar, mais uma vez, e uma onda de calor substituir o frio. era difícil desviar o olhar, mas você sabia que precisava manter a compostura diante das câmeras e da situação.

“obrigada. você está maravilhoso também.” sua voz saiu quase em um sussurro, mas você manejou tirar um sorriso satisfeito de sua cara ao descer seus olhos pelo corpo dele, supostamente apreciando o terno caro.

você sentia exatamente as cinco pontas de seus dedos ainda em sua pele, frias e a fazendo se arquear para frente, para mais perto dele. até que aquela bolha que haviam construído ao redor de vocês explodiu, e era hora de voltar à realidade.

um assistente os guiou pelo tapete vermelho, e gentilmente, enzo cedeu o braço para que você se apoiasse nele. mais a frente, você podia enxergar os entrevistadores a postos com seus microfones e expressões ávidas. um campo minado, qualquer resposta errada e boom, já era.  

as primeiras paradas foram tranquilas, perguntas profissionais e nada muito arriscado. os primeiros repórteres abordaram vocês sobre o filme, elogiando suas performances passadas e perguntando sobre a experiência de trabalhar juntos. você e enzo responderam com profissionalismo, compartilhando sobre o processo de filmagem e destacando a química entre seus personagens, nada demais. 

no entanto, conforme vocês avançavam pelo tapete vermelho, as perguntas começaram a se tornar mais pessoais e invasivas. um repórter em particular, com um microfone ostensivamente estampado com o logotipo de uma revista de fofocas, se destacava na multidão.

"desculpe incomodá-los, mas temos que aproveitar a oportunidade, não é mesmo?", disse ele com um sorriso predatório. “e então, com todos esses rumores de romance entre o casal do momento, podemos esperar uma oficialização de vocês?” 

o mundo pareceu girar, a cor de seu rosto se esvaiu. você engoliu em seco, olhando de imediato para enzo em busca de uma resposta. ele não ousou em retribuir seu olhar, mas os olhos dele tinham um brilho diferente, um misto de surpresa e confusão. o braço dele apertou o seu, a assegurando. ele, como um veterano, queria a proteger, a guardar de todas as ameaças que aquela indústria poderia oferecer, a cuidar com as próprias mãos, a zelar em seus próprios braços.

“ah, por favor.” bufou enzo, lançando um olhar ao redor quase indignado. "somos profissionais e nos respeitamos mutuamente. isso é apenas especulação. nosso foco está no filme e no trabalho que realizamos juntos."

você apenas assente, e então enzo a puxa junto dele, para fora daquela enroscada e para finalmente, o fim do tapete. tensa e um tanto sobrecarregada sob os olhos de tanta gente, você tentava acenar e sorrir para as últimas fotos, forçando-se a não pensar no que havia acabado de acontecer. na maneira tão dismissiva que ele havia respondido, quase ofendido. focou então nas câmeras e agradecer as pessoas ao redor, dando sua melhor atuação. era como se você se tornasse um animal de zoológico.

quando cruzaram então as portas do teatro você soltou o ar de uma vez, sem notar que estava o prendendo todo esse tempo, e fechou os olhos tentando recobrar todos seus sentidos. um formigamento subia por sua nuca, um desconforto inexplicável acometendo todo seu sistema. seu sorriso começou a se desfazer lentamente, substituído por uma expressão de angústia.

enzo percebeu a mudança em você imediatamente. 

"está tudo bem?", ele sussurrou, sua voz aveludada quase perdida no burburinho ao redor.

você balançou a cabeça, lutando para controlar a respiração acelerada e os pensamentos que começavam a torturar sua mente. você queria poder se esconder do mais velho, engolir os sentimentos conflitantes, apenas ser madura sobre aquilo. por que estava tão afetada a final?

"eu só... não estou acostumada com toda essa atenção", confessou, sua voz vacilante.

enzo assentiu com a cabeça, compreensivo e então soltou seu braço para pegar a sua mão. sua barriga gelou com a sensação de sua mão grande segurando a sua, e você baixou o olhar, não querendo entregar o rubor em suas bochechas. você sentiu o frio do metal de seu anel com que ele gentilmente acariciava as costas de sua palma, e o silêncio reinou por algum tempo. lá dentro, o ambiente era mais calmo e as luzes mais quentes.

o indicador de enzo tocou seu queixo e automaticamente, você levantou  a cabeça para encontrar sua expressão pacífica e preocupada. você sabia exatamente o que ele estava prestes a fazer, já acostumada com momentos assim. odiava o quanto ele era cuidadoso, como se importava e como cuidava de você. odiava ficar ainda mais apaixonada quando ele fazia esse tipo de coisa.

quando ele inspira profundamente, a incentivando a fazer o mesmo, você o obedece. soltam o ar juntos, e repetem o gesto cinco vezes, até que seus batimentos estejam amenos e a marquinha entre suas sobrancelhas seja suavizada. odiava como ele sabia agir em qualquer situação, também. porque era incrivelmente atraente.

“você vai pegar o jeito, nena” ele diz, com um último toquinho em seu queixo.

seus olhos são piscinas profundas de um castanho familiar e lhe observam com tanta ternura que chega a doer dentro de seu peito, a causando um tipo de ânsia desesperante de simplesmente querer se afundar nele, naqueles olhos, em seu peitoral, se enrolar em seu terno e fingir por um momento que seu olhar a diz outra coisa. você engole em seco e apenas assente com a cabeça, apesar de tudo, lisonjeada com sua atenção.

“bom, temos um filme a estrear, huh?” enzo pergunta retoricamente com um tom de motivação, com as sobrancelhas juntinhas e aquele olhar de quase piedade a sua direção. “vamos?”

você se sente tão vulnerável com a forma que ele se dirige e se porta contigo que seria impossível não obedecer qualquer coisa que ele demandasse, e então, sem protestar, o segue para dentro da sala de exibição, arrastando toda uma plateia atrás de vocês. os assistentes do evento novamente os guiam para seus respectivos assentos, e lado a lado, se acomodam a suas poltronas. você sente a perna de enzo roçar a sua e agora com ele tão perto, pode sentir sua colônia forte e amadeirada, de alguma forma que exalava sua presença, e isso a deixou inebriada. extasiada em passar as próximas duas horas ali, apenas inspirando e expirando seu cheiro.

as luzes começaram a escurecer até sumirem por completo quando o falatório do público se tornou murmúrios, e finalmente, o filme estava começando. seu olhar cruzou-se com o de enzo rapidamente enquanto a primeira cena se desenrolava, e trocaram um sorriso cúmplice, orgulhosos.

"estou feliz por estarmos juntos nisso", enzo disse suavemente, seus olhos fixos aos seus em meio à penumbra. "é uma noite especial, e estou feliz por ter você ao meu lado."

é difícil de controlar o rubor que você sente crescer em suas bochechas, por isto, agradece estar escuro o suficiente para que ele veja somente o sorriso enorme em seu rosto. a mão de enzo repousa sob o apoio da cadeira, aberta, como se esperasse que você a segurasse, e um tanto levada pelas emoções, você não pensa duas as vezes antes de deslizar seus dedos por sua palma e entrelaça-los com os dedos longos do ator. com um pequeno aperto, você o agradece. é tão fácil de esquecer todo o porquê de você afastar todos aqueles pensamentos e sentimentos por ele quando ele faz essas coisas.

você espera que enzo soltasse sua mão no momento seguinte, mas ele não o faz. pela próxima hora, ele continua a segurar sua mão, ocasionalmente fazendo carícias com o polegar sob seu indicador, o que você acredita ser uma resposta automática. o uruguaio sentia-se em paz, em deleite com o contato de sua pele macia contra a dele, e apesar de ter tantas vezes sentido seu toque, agora era diferente. era um carinho espontâneo e verdadeiro, e ele não poderia se sentir mais sortudo. vez ou outra, desvia o olhar da tela, de seu próprio rosto, para poder observar o quão bem sua mão delicada se encaixa com a dele.

a atmosfera na sala escura do teatro parecia suspensa no tempo, enquanto o filme se desenrolava diante de vocês. tudo aquilo era meio surreal para sua compreensão, o filme, enzo, as pessoas maravilhadas ao redor os assistindo. era como estar nua a frente de uma plateia, expondo suas emoções mais vulneráveis.

a tensão começava a lhe envolver como um abraço apertado quando a cena do climax do filme começa a se aproximar, o momento que seus personagens confessam seus sentimentos um para o outro. você lembrava muito bem do dia que gravaram essa cena, mais de uma vez, a sensação do nó em sua garganta e o quanto te elogiaram pela performance tão natural. o diretor adorou a cena! você segurou as lágrimas até chegar em casa.

para enzo não foi diferente. foi um dia particularmente silencioso no set, ele se lembra. era muito fácil para o ator se prender em seus pensamentos, absorto em seus devaneios, 

questionando-se se teria coragem de dizer as palavras que seu personagem dizia para o seu, sabendo que naquele momento, era mais do que só atuação. era real, pulsante em seu peito, e ele não conseguia conter a urgência de expressar tudo aquilo. ele sabia que precisava, queria confessar, mesmo que soubesse das consequências. mas, e se ela não sentisse o mesmo? e se fosse apenas a química dos personagens que os levavam a este momento?

como você não percebeu esse tempo todo? as palavras preencheram a sala escura, ecoando em sua mente com uma força avassaladora. parecia até mesmo irônico ver isto agora. a declaração de amor de sua personagem foi recebida pelo personagem dele com um silêncio palpável, até que finalmente, ele a abraça com toda a força, confessando seus sentimentos também. e de repente, o beijo que aguardam pelo filme todo. 

você não ousa se mexer, não ousa falar e nem respirar um pouco mais alto. seu corpo remói todos os sentimentos que guarda lá no fundo e a concentração já uma habilidade perdida, mas você ainda sente precisamente o calor do corpo do homem ao seu lado, seu perfume e a forma que sua perna ainda roça na sua. mentalmente, agradece por não mais segurar a mão de enzo, ou entregaria seu nervosismo. mas não percebe que, enquanto prende seus olhos na tela, empenhando-se em não transparecer o que sente, o seu corpo fala por si só, não há como controlar. 

“nena?” enzo chama sussurrando, com aquele maldito apelido novamente. você finge não ouvir da primeira vez. então ele te chamamais uma vez, e você nega com a cabeça. não, não, não. 

calmamente, a mão de enzo sobe até seu rosto, e você a sente envolver com leveza a linha de seu maxilar, a inclinando para o lado para poder enxergá-la melhor. quando os olhos solidários do ator captam os seus, marejados e vermelhos, você tem vontade de desaparecer. não quer que ele a flagre assim, mas já é tarde demais. a luz da tela reflete em seu rosto, a expondo. pela expressão de seu rosto, ele avalia, não é um choro feliz. é um choro copioso e ressentido, faz seu coração se apertar e palpitar em seu peito, dá um gosto amargo a sua boca. enzo não suporta a ver assim, e não entende a motivação das lágrimas que correm por seu rosto, alheio demais a compreender seu silêncio. 

com o polegar, ele impede de mais uma lágrima escorrer, e suas sobrancelhas se unem de uma maneira tensionada. por um momento, você tem a impressão de que todos os olhos da sala estão em vocês, mas quando olha para trás, todos estão vidrados na tela. 

“que pasa?” ele sussurra, inquieto.

você o olha com aquela cara de quem sabe que perdeu e mais uma vez, balança a cabeça negativamente. sua expressão o diz “você sabe”. a confissão arde em sua língua, não seria difícil só falar, só deixar as palavras tomarem forma por si próprias, e pronto, aquele peso sumiria, a deixaria respirar. 

“acho que eu só preciso de um pouco de ar” você maneja em dizer, e se livra da mão do ator, levantando-se em um ímpeto desesperado e marchando para fora da sala de exibição, sem olhar para trás.

um, dois, três segundos. é o que leva enzo a processar a situação. sua mente gira tentando organizar a enxurrada de pensamentos, ele se pergunta se disse algo errado, se deveria ter percebido os sinais antes, se poderia ter evitado tudo isso. determinado, o moreno segue o caminho feito por ti segundos antes, deixando a sala abandonada pelos astros da noite, que protagonizavam agora sua própria trama.

ele vasculha cada canto com o olhar, e não demora muito até que ele te encontre, sentada sob os primeiros degraus da escada do saguão. as lágrimas secaram, mas o peso em seu peito persiste. você se pergunta se tomou a decisão certa ao sair da sala de cinema tão abruptamente, mas o pensamento de enfrentar enzo naquele momento parecia esmagador demais.

aflito e ofegante, o uruguaio está tomado pela preocupação, faminto por respostas, pelo seu toque, pela verdade, mas se aproxima em passos leves, desacelerando seu ritmo, tentando engolir o coração que bate em sua garganta para não a assustar. com as mãos para trás, o ator chega até você. 

você sente sua presença antes de vê-lo, e sente um arrepio correr pela coluna. não há mais barreiras ou disfarces que impeçam seus sentimentos, ou os dele, agora. 

“me desculpa, enzo. eu não devia ter saído, foi rídiculo.” você despejou as palavras, já pronta para se levantar, tentando se redimir. ele tinha uma expressão preocupada, com o cenho franzido e o olhar bem mirado em sua figura, a fazendo estremecer. então ele se abaixa, se apoiando em seus joelhos a sua frente.

“não é como se não soubéssemos o que acontece no final do filme” o ator busca por um clima mais tranquilo, dando de ombros. todo seu corpo relaxa quando percebe que na verdade, ele não está irritado como parece.

você ri, fungando um pouquinho, e é o primeiro passo para que a tensão vá se desfazendo. 

“amanhã vão falar disso, você sabe, né?” em tom humorado, você indaga.

“eu sei, sei bem. mas são só mais especulações, no fim das contas.” enzo responde, com um suspiro. “pelo o que mais eles poderiam nos acusar?”

“hm, talvez mudem a narrativa agora, que nós nos odiamos e discutimos na noite de estreia, provavelmente.”

“um clássico” ele levanta as sobrancelhas, avaliando a ideia. “mas quem se importa com o que eles vão falar?”

você deixa sua cabeça pender para o lado, e enzo se move para sentar ao seu lado, a observando com aquela pose pensativa. há um silêncio confortável, um momento em que os ânimos parecem se acalmar externamente, mas por dentro, enzo trava uma pequena batalha interna, tentando se decidir sobre algo que definiria um antes e depois.

ele pigarreia, reunindo coragem. enzo nunca fora tão inseguro, mas toda vez que estava ao seu lado parecia passar por provações; queria ser mais engraçado, mais atraente, mais interessante. tinha medo de ser “demais” ou “de menos”, sempre calculando seus passos e ações, e isso o deixava louco, o consumia por dentro, e de uma vez por todas, precisava colocar as coisas a limpo.

“as especulações, os rumores…não é tudo verdade, sabe?” o ator começa, com o olhar perdido em algum ponto ao longe. curiosa, você se vira para olhá-lo. 

com uma risada fraca, você indica sua confusão, franzindo o cenho. estava muito claro para você que tudo que estavam falando não passavam de fofocas, torturas direcionadas à seu amor unilateral, com certeza. realmente, não entendia onde enzo queria chegar com aquilo.

“ah, não se preocupa com isso…eu ‘to me acostumando com as entrevistas e todas essas…coisas. sei que não são verdade.” sua resposta tem um tom um tanto indiferente, você coloca um sorriso forçado em seu rosto, mas lhe doí quase fisicamente tentar se mostrar confortável.

será que ele te acha tão ingênua assim? ou ele desconfia de algo, para estar se esclarecendo? 

“não, não é isso” enzo quebra o seu sorriso, e então fecha os olhos, pinçando com os dedos o topo de seu nariz. você se sente como estivesse sendo instigada com a forma que ele demora a revelar o que quer dizer. “a minha resposta não é verdade, não é só especulação.”

cansada daquele jogo, você se levanta, de cenho franzido e com mil informações a se trançarem, como peças de quebra cabeça. por que ele não pode ser simplesmente direto? de costas a enzo, você respira fundo, tentando lutar com a negação. seu corpo estremece quaando você se vira e ele também se coloca de pé, a alguns passos de distância.

“o que você está querendo dizer?” como um animal indefeso, você o encara.

“você quer ouvir a verdade?” ele tem as sobrancelhas juntas, e aquele maldito olhar. é uma pergunta retórica, ele diria de qualquer jeito, mas você assente com a cabeça. “você não sabe o quanto ‘tá acabando comigo... pela primeira vez, eu tenho medo do que dizer, medo do que fazer, medo de não ser suficiente. medo que você tenha a impressão errada.”

nada do que ele fala parece fazer sentido, porque te atingem e a abalam de uma forma monstruosa. você para no lugar, atônita, e ele dá um passo à frente em sua direção. não te intimida, não é a intenção, mas é paralisante.

“e é irônico como eu tenho todos esses olhos fixos em mim e ainda assim não é suficiente quando você não está me olhando. porque é tudo que importa, desde o momento que eu te vi cruzar a porta daquele estúdio pela primeira vez.” 

mais passos, e ele está tão perto. enzo avalia sua expressão, a cabeça quase pendendo para o lado. 

“genuinamente, começo a pensar que devo ser um ótimo ator para que você ainda não tenha percebido que eu estou perdendo minha cabeça mais e mais a cada segundo que eu passo do seu lado”

suas palavras tem um tom quase de súplica, desespero. ecoam pelo lugar, agora vazio e silencioso, e é quase capaz de ressoar pelas paredes o som dos suspiros que os dois soltam quando seus corpos se encontram. sem perder tempo, enzo a puxa pela cintura, espalmando a mão por suas costas desnuda, a segurando como se você pudesse vanescer aos seus olhos. 

você pode ouvir as palavras não ditas no silêncio que se forma enquanto se encaram, a forma que a íris castanha do homem encontra a sua e parece derreter em devoção. enzo analisa cada aspecto de seu rosto e a forma que você se entrega a ele, como seu corpo se molda ao seu toque, sem demonstrar nenhum sinal de receio. as respirações se tornam ofegantes com que vocês, instintivamente, se aproximam como planetas ao redor de uma só órbita, atraídos por algo maior do que conhecem. 

“como você não percebeu esse tempo todo?” ele recita, com aquela voz grave e lenta, com a fala de sua própria personagem. você sente o calor de suas palavras contra seus lábios e é como levar um soco na boca do estômago, deixando todo seu corpo débil e sua mente zonza. 

seus olhos úmidos e vermelhos se sustentam nos dele, determinados e como se pedissem por ele, por sua proximidade, sua confissão. você rasteja suas mãos do peitoral de enzo até o colarinho de sua camisa branca, prendendo-se ao tecido. no limite para perder o controle, você desvia o contato visual e tem o vislumbre da carne avermelhada de seus lábios. é enzo quem não se aguenta, uma de suas mãos segura seu rosto e a outra afunda os dedos na pele de seu torso, e então seu hálito quente se mistura ao seu em um beijo doce e voraz. 

suas palavras ganham significado, corpo e sensação. todo desejo e tempo de espera é incubado no encontro de suas bocas, nas pequenas arfadas e carícias em sua bochecha. tudo que você consegue fazer é puxá-lo para mais perto e aprofundar o beijo, migrando suas mãos de seu colarinho para seu pescoço e então sua nuca. enzo dá alguns passos para trás, sem nunca quebrar a proximidade, até levá-los de volta a escada, onde teriam mais privacidade. ali, ele a beija quase impossivelmente com mais profundidade, serpenteando as mãos para dentro do tecido do vestido para tocar sua cintura, subindo e descendo a ponta de seus dedos em um carinho torturante.

ele sabe como a beijar, exatamente o que fazer, como se já houvesse feito milhares de outras vezes: como rolar a língua por cima da sua por dentro de sua boca, o momento certo para movimentar o nariz sob o seu, o que fazer com as mãos e como a fazer nunca mais querer parar. ele a beija como um real astro, apaixonante, de fazer inveja e de tirar o ar. 

“eu sou apaixonado por você. parece claro o suficiente agora?” ele diz quando quebram o beijo, e custa muito para que você não retorne aos seus lábios furiosamente quando ele confessa.

com suas costas encostadas na pilastra, um andar mais alto que ele naquela escada, você o encara por baixo dos seus cílios enormes carregados por maquiagem. toda a sensação de o ter a domina, e é deliciosa, recompensante. o gosto de seu beijo dança por sua boca, a tentando em buscar por mais.

você tenta processar o que ele diz, a verdade por trás de suas palavras e seus olhos, que indicam que ele não mente, que entrega sua veneração. parecia mesmo inacreditável, como saído dos filmes. tudo parece extremamente silencioso e em paz dentro de sua cabeça agora, apenas existe a ânsia por mais, agora que você sabe. agora que é recíproco.

tudo isso parece como uma cena de um sonho que você nunca quis acordar. mas é real.

“não sei, talvez você tenha que me dar mais um desses beijos de cinema, e talvez, apenas talvez, eu acredite.” você provoca, com uma risada que o contagia. “e então, eu posso te dizer o quanto eu sinto o mesmo”

estão completamente desarmados agora, como apenas duas crianças apaixonadas e sem toda a pressão do mundo a fora, apaixonados como qualquer outra alma que busca pela outra. toda sua ansiedade, medos, incertezas ao redor dele se dissipam. 

“você não sabe quanto tempo eu esperei por isso” enzo responde, com um sorriso de ponta a ponta, e se entrega aos seus braços mais uma vez.

quando ele a beija novamente, o som de flash estoura em algum lugar do salão e vocês se olham, surpresos. você pensa em se afastar, mas enzo a segura pelos quadris no lugar.

“quer dar o fora daqui?” ele murmura, contra seus lábios. dane-se uma premiére e os críticos, isso não importa mais.

você assente com a cabeça e um sorriso bem aberto estampa seu rosto, e então, se deixa ser guiada para lugares que não os encontrarão.

baseado em uma ask recebida :)

finalemente escrevendo em português aqui!! espero muuuito chegar nas lobas br daqui &lt;3

@suffermaze muito obrigada por sempre me auxiliar! te amo muito.

[suffermaze]

rose petals | steve harrington

summary: It's international women's day and you really believe that Steve forgot about it, so instead you decide to surprise him. 1,8k.

You spent the entire day hearing greetings and compliments from everyone, here and there. It was a special occasion, after all, and even though you deserved to hear those things every day and felt annoyed by the lack of recognition on any other day, it felt good to be seen and appreciated.

Yet, the only thing you truly couldn't wait for was to get home and find your boyfriend waiting for you with open arms. Even though you hadn't planned to receive a surprise or anything like that, the anticipation made your stomach flutter slightly, and it was inevitable.

Along the way, you came across several shops decorated with hearts, and ironically, only women working in them. You decided that all that appearance of someone caring was just utter nonsense.

You went into a flower shop and made sure to buy a rose because this year would be different; you would be the one to surprise him, even if it was just a silly gesture that wouldn't directly affect anything except the local commerce by buying that simple flower.

Finally arriving home, you tried to listen through the keyhole if Steve was up to something with his habit of talking to himself, or if you could hear any noises indicating that he was preparing something, but strangely, there was nothing but silence.

Frowning, you hesitantly held the doorknob and pushed the door open, which creaked slightly due to your delicacy in pushing it forward, but it didn't elicit any apparent reaction.

Gently, you entered your living room more and more, step by step on tiptoes, just to find the dark-haired lying on the couch, his cheek squished against the soft pillow and a light crochet blanket covering his massive body, which was all squeezed on the too-small sofa.

You let out a sigh, watching him sleep there so quietly, like an angel, the warm yellowish light softly illuminating his face, highlighting the tiny freckles, with so much tranquility in his breathing. It was exactly like observing the sky on a summer night, serene, the stars seeming to shine even brighter after the warm sun of the day. That feeling always washed over you every time your eyes fell on Steve.

You approach slowly, looking around involuntarily a few times, hoping to find a trace of some present or maybe just a piece of chocolate, but nothing…

Before you can get close enough to sit, the boy senses your presence and wakes up with a start, making you startle too and a little scream escapes from both sides. You end up falling on top of him on the couch, making him laugh as he hugs you tightly, trying to pull you almost inside him.

"God, I missed you," he says, his face buried in your neck, trying to imprint your scent in his brain, even though you were already a vivid memory in the boy's mind. Every detail, line, freckle, strand of hair, habit, scent. Steve knew it all, and yet he never tired of remembering it every day.

"But did you? You were pretty sleepy to be thinking about anything at all," you tease, chuckling softly and lifting yourself just to stare at him with narrowed eyes, almost challenging him.

"But I was dreaming about you the whole time," he easily deflects your accusation, raising his eyebrows as if expecting approval for saying the "right thing", and that just makes you roll your eyes, though you couldn't hide a silly smile.

"I have something for you," your voice sounds eager, and you can perceive the quick change in the sleepy boy's gaze, who suddenly becomes alert. The only thing crossing Steve's mind is how screwed he was because if you brought a gift, it means he had forgotten something, and that couldn't be good.

Even though you weren't one of those girlfriends who cared so much, you also forgot a date or two and never used to demand anything from the boy. Having him with you there every day was more than enough.

Steve, on the other hand, was the kind of person who made sure to make you feel special even on days that had no event or festivity. He loved to see your eyes sparkling like a child receiving their favorite present on Christmas.

He smiles, trying to disguise it, and you have to control yourself as much as you can not to burst into laughter at the situation. Finally, you had won that competition that wasn't really a competition, but still left you feeling proud.

"Well, since in our relationship you're obviously the feminine one..." you say, looking at him with a mischievous smile and playful eyes, receiving a bored look in return and crossed arms. Then you finally hand him the rose you had set aside. "Happy Women's Day!"

And he takes several long seconds staring at you dumbfounded while you try your hardest to keep from laughing, pressing your lips together. The rose firm in hand, and you can see his cheeks turning redder in no time, giving away that he had actually loved receiving the gift.

"Oh really?" he says, taking a deep breath and looking back into your eyes, the boy's teeth clenched in mock anger and his eyebrows raised almost as if challenging you.

"Oh, really." you reply in advance, your smile growing wider and wider, trying to hold back from laughing in advance because you knew exactly what was going through the boy's mind as he looked at you like that.

"So I guess you could easily get rid of me, huh?" he says, throwing himself on top of you once again before you could anticipate any feeling, his arms locking yours and letting all the weight of his body relax on top of yours, which was much smaller and weaker.

"No! Steve! Get off me!" you automatically shout, trying to hold out for a while before starting to laugh and becoming even weaker to push the boy away. Obviously, as soon as he realizes, he holds back a bit to avoid actually hurting you, but it's still hard to breathe while your organs feel like they're being crushed under him. But he ignores it and just keeps laughing, burying his face in your neck once again just to spread kisses there that tickle your soft skin, making you laugh louder. "Steve! Stop!"

You keep yelling as you try to get rid of the stronger arms, but it's in vain. It doesn't take long for him to notice how fast your heart is beating and how red your face is and understand that it's time to stop. So, he pulls you up, still trapped in his arms, and nestles you in his lap, still planting a few kisses on your lips as you catch your breath and giggle softly.

"How can I make it up to you?" he then asks, breaking the silence, and you lose yourself for a moment. Maybe too confused by the question, or maybe because you loved the way his hair fell messy over his face like that, his honey eyes shining between the brown strands almost like a waterfall more intense than the waters of Niagara. And the only thing you can think of is that you don't need anything else. That was already more than enough, that was everything and even more than you could ever imagine dreaming of one day. Steve was your gift, and knowing that those eyes would forever be yours was the best affirmation you could have.

"What?" you ask, furrowing your brow, your voice somewhat hoarse because your mind was so airy, you couldn't pay attention to anything else.

"Because I forgot about today, how can I make it up to you?" he repeats once again, giving you a gentle squeeze on the arm as if pleading for you to pay attention to it, because it was important to him.

"You know you don't have to." in a failed attempt to reaffirm it, he cuts you off in the middle of any denial or hesitation that dared to come out of your mouth again.

"But I want to." His voice is firm now, looking so deeply into your eyes that you wonder how all this can be real.

"Okay… how about we go to the bedroom…" Your smile is slightly suggestive, and as much as you try to maintain composure, your face burns with embarrassment, and it's impossible for him not to laugh at how adorable you are like that.

"Oh, really?" he teases once again, and you avert his gaze, but he doesn't allow it, holding your chin with his fingertips so that you keep your eyes locked on his while they become slightly darker, and that innocence from seconds ago evaporates completely.

"Really…" you finally say before he kisses you, eliciting a surprised sigh from your throat as he takes the opportunity to lift you off the couch in his arms, without warning, effortlessly regardless of how heavy you think you are.

"Whatever you want," he says, a slightly submissive air in his voice, a look in his eyes saying that he was willing to do anything for you. Anything.

As you enter the bedroom, almost with a sense of desperation, your eyes are flooded with red. Rose petals scattered on the floor, photos of the two of you on the wall, and even heart-shaped balloons, as cheesy as it may sound. And secretly, you're amazed by it all.

Your eyes shine so brightly that it's as if two stars have just become supernovas, and your smile lights up your face so much that even the muscles of your cheeks ache slightly, because it's simply impossible to stop smiling beside him.

"You fooled me," you say, feeling somewhat embarrassed now, for thinking that he would forget, for caring about something even silly, and for believing for even a second that you didn't need that. Because, at least for Steve, it was the least he could do for you.

"And you fell for it like a duckling," he teases, drawing out the pout that forms on your lips with a lingering kiss and then a silly little laugh. "Happy Women's Day, my woman."

He says finally, before placing you on the bed. His voice full of desire and confidence, and you love the way those words come out of his mouth, so certain. His. No one else's. 

And as you see him like that, with all of that around him, a whole scene meticulously prepared so that you would never forget that moment, all you can think is that everything else didn't matter and never would, because he was all you needed and nothing more. Just those kind eyes reminding you that you would always be seen.

hey!! things are pretty busy for me but I found some time to write just a little blurb, and I really hope you enjoy it!

happy late international women's day! I'm a mess with dates, please forgive me hahaha

[suffermaze]

"dyeing" for you | steve harrington

summary: Steve is your best friend and you really want to bleach your hair, at home, by yourself. Of course the boy wants to help you, but things go really wrong and all of the sudden it's not only your hair that turns out clearer than before. 3k.

Steve always had the urge to help you, or anyone, no matter what. And you knew, deep down, that he felt that way because nobody had ever helped him in his whole life. He wouldn't be able to stand treating someone the way he had been treated before.

"Shit!" you shouted, your voice reverberating off the ceramic walls, the sound muffled from the outside. But it was enough for the boy's honey-colored eyes, filled with concern, to meet yours. The door swung open against the palm of his hand.

"What happened?" Steve asked, his eyes scanning your entire body for any possible injury or cut, anything. It took a few moments for the boy to see the liquid spread on the floor and for you to finish counting the 10 seconds needed for your breathing to return to normal, looking back at him.

"Nothing... just..." you huffed, closing your eyes when your gaze fell on the mess and the traces of the disaster you caused around your feet. For a moment, all you wanted was for time to freeze now and for you to be able to disappear. Your hair formed a huge, tangled mess, the only thing covering your body being an old, stained t-shirt. The last thing you wanted was to be seen in this deplorable state, especially by him.

But Steve thought you were adorable, especially with that annoyed look and a big pout drawing your lips without you realizing it.

"Need help?" You barely had time to answer the question, as he was already kneeling in front of you, picking up the utensils scattered on the floor and cleaning the spilled bleach with a piece of paper.

"I can do it on my own." your voice sounded sharper than you would like, but the boy is unfazed by it. Both he and you knew that it was said with the intention of proving something more to yourself than to anyone else.

"I know you can, but that's not what I asked..." The smile on his face, so kind and playful, makes it impossible for you not to smile foolishly and roll your eyes, giving in and sitting on the stool once again, for him to do the work for you.

A shiver ran down your spine when suddenly you felt the cold bleach on your hair. Turning yourself slightly, from the startle, you could see the boy with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, his lip caught between his teeth with a mixed expression of concern and concentration.

"Everything okay?" he asked, seeming too nervous to make any slight movement. He was afraid of hurting you or doing anything wrong. You're forced to place your hand over his, caressing the back of it with your thumb. a reassuring smile on your face. You can feel him relax under your touch, and a long trembling sigh escapes from his pinkish lips.

It’s a bit strange at the beginning, and you’re not sure why. Being in silence with him always felt easy, the way it feels when you’re with someone just right to you. You don’t need words to fill anything, or to always be doing something so you don’t feel like something is out of place. With Steve, just being with him was enough.

But now, everything seems too much. And you’re almost sure something is off. Because you can’t fight the urge to look into the mirror, just so you could see the boy’s reflection, just so you could trace the lines of his jaw tense due to how concentrated he was, and then relaxing once again when a soft smile graced his lips as his eyes connected with yours, his eyes seeming to glow instantly just from meeting your face. And you two get lost for a moment, like that, looking at each other. 

You know it’s different this time. It feels different.Those weren’t the eyes of the boy you knew for a few years now, the one you would gladly call your best friend. Those were the eyes of the boy you were in love since the first time your gaze fell on him. 

And, for a slightly moment, you feel like he saw those eyes on you two, because he let out a deep sigh before looking back to your hair, which he was holding softly in his hands, almost feeling like he forced his way back to the reality where, he truly believed, you would never look at him that way. 

You barely feel the time passing, and the process is so careful that you hardly notice when it's over. Steve was so attentive that you almost dozed off several times, and only when you heard the slightly hoarse voice of the brunette did you snap back to reality, opening your eyes in surprise.

"I think... I'm done?" he finally says, looking at you with a certain strangeness, as if seeing an exotic animal for the first time. And then it hits you: you trusted Steve Harrington to bleach your hair. And, with all due respect, much of the boy's charm was due to how CLUMSY he was.

A nervous laugh escapes your throat as you look in the mirror. your hair completely plastered with white cream, full of pellets because someone didn't mix it properly.

"Are you... sure?" your voice comes out wavering as you look at him through the mirror's reflection, and the boy smiles confidently, even though his eyes said otherwise.

For a moment, you wonder if that was a good idea. Maybe, just maybe, your first time bleaching your hair shouldn't have been alone at home, with the help of your best friend who definitely had never done anything like that before either. But you didn't have many choices.

"And now?" he says, crossing his arms and swaying back and forth, starting to get restless.

"Now we wait." or at least, that's what you believed you should do.

"Wait for what exactly?" his eyes narrow at you, starting to realize that you also had no idea what was supposed to happen there.

"My hair starts to lighten... I guess." you smile nervously at him, and in the same instant, all that false confidence he presented starts to evaporate and give way to his famous worried motherly personality.

"What do you mean you guess? Didn't you read the label?" he stares at you incredulously, his eyes slightly closed as he tries to understand what went through your head when you planned all that. if you even planned anything at all.

"Pff, no? Who reads the label?" you reply, a nervous giggle on your lips as you look away. you try your hardest to seem cool about it, but panic begins to take over your body, which seems to shake more and more.

"EVERYONE READS THE LABEL! How do you even know if this shit was within its expiration date?"

"Come on, Steve, this kind of thing doesn't have an expiration date." you say that more as an affirmation to yourself than to the boy, an attempt to deceive yourself and pretend that everything was fine.

But Steve doesn't help at all with this, because unlike you, he wasn't the type of person who could hide when he was completely freaking out.

"OF COURSE IT DOES." he yells, arms thrown up in the air emphasizing the desperation of the taller one.

And that's enough for you to start panicking too.

"Give me the pot. Let me see if the smell is weird." It's the first, and honestly, the only idea that crosses your mind at this moment. Steve looks at you, eyebrows raised as if to say "are you sure?", but you've completely lost patience, and a nearly growl escapes your throat as you reach out towards the boy, making him flinch a bit.

He then hands you the little that was left of the mixture, and you inhale so forcefully that your eyes start to water instantly. The air tears through your throat and it's impossible not to cough like crazy, your organs feeling like they're melting inside you.

"Bad idea. Bad idea." you say between coughs, trying to recover the pure air that used to fill your lungs.

"Oh c’mon. it can’t be that bad." he takes the pot back and brings it closer to his face, somewhat hesitantly. "Oh god, it burns." and then, you lean on each other, completely losing composure and unable to regain your breath now that laughter intersperses with coughs.

And it's at that moment that you start to feel your scalp initially just tingling, but in a fraction of a second BURSTING INTO FLAMES.

"oh fuck. it burns." you say, swallowing hard and squeezing the boy's arm next to you tightly. your wide eyes looking at him. the rest of the world seeming to slow down as your body tenses up.

"I know. i just said that." he keeps laughing, completely unaware of what's happening, finding everything way too funny.

"No, Steve." you take a deep breath, trying not to freak out and lose your mind completely. and you say it slowly like someone trying to explain the simplest thing in the world to a child who doesn't understand anything at all. "my head is burning."

"ooooooh shit. oh shit." Steve then stops laughing and composes himself, straightening up as he holds your shoulders, looking at you with his eyes almost popping out. "What do we do?"

"I don't know. Should I wait? is it a bad sign?" You say, trying your hardest not to lose it at the same speed as him, because if both of you panicked, you were sure things could get ugly very quickly, and it was your hair that was in mortal danger at the moment.

"What do you mean by a bad sign? I guess your head burning is a pretty horrible sign," he replies, analyzing your hair and trying to understand what was so wrong, because from the outside, nothing seemed to have happened.

"Should I take it off- fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck it's getting worse." you say, now holding the boy's arms back, your fingers gripping so tightly that your knuckles hurt.

"God, what do I do?" Steve shouts, trying to make you look at him, hoping that someone or anything would get him out of this kind of situation. There was no worse feeling than helplessness for Steve.

"I don't know. SOMETHING?" You shout back, no longer able to think or pay attention to anything other than the sensation of fire on top of your head.

"Shit. shit. shit. ok…. ok…." he starts spinning in the bathroom, hands gesturing desperately in search of something that could help. and, acting on impulse, he gently wraps his arm around your body, pushing you towards the shower.

"Close your eyes." he says, sounding like a warning, with a certain urgency in his voice.

"what?" but you don't even have time to process what's happening. out of nowhere, you feel the cold water running down your head and then all over you. The shock makes you shiver and let out a ridiculous squeal. "WHAT?"

"Sorry." he says, his voice full of fear and concern. For a moment, you feel like punching the boy in the face, but when you get used to the water temperature, the sensation is wonderful. your body automatically relaxes, and your head starts to cool down more and more.

"You’re so lucky it works." a smile appears on your face, and you can't see it, but at the same time, Steve smiles too.

"Thank God." he says, genuinely, along with a relieved sigh, because he knew that he would be in trouble if that stupid idea hadn't worked out.

When you manage to open your eyes again, you find the boy next to you in the shower, his shirt slightly wet too, sticking to his chest, and it's impossible not to lose consciousness for a few seconds. maybe a few seconds more than you notice, because he clears his throat a little awkwardly, catching your attention. a shy smile and a failed attempt to hide it on his face. 

"I'll... I'll wait for you to finish here. I’ll be outside." he says, bringing both of you back to the real world. He seemed a bit lost in his own words and actions, slightly spacey.

"Sure! sure... good idea." you say, and now it's your face that's burning up in flames. You hope he doesn't notice before turning around and leaving you alone in the bathroom. Your eyes close once again, now out of frustration, and you huff, slapping your palm against your forehead as you mutter an "idiot..." to yourself.

It takes courage to face the mirror after you finish cleaning up.

And, at that moment, you don't have that courage. 

That's why you wrap a towel around your hair before even covering your own body after the bath. After changing and combing your wet hair, you shout for your best friend, who appears within seconds in the room, his T-shirt still slightly damp.

When his eyes meet yours, you notice him trying to hide the shock, pressing his lips together, his chest puffing up as he takes a deep breath. And you know it cannot be a good sign.

"Did it turn out really bad?" you ask, your eyebrows knitting in anguish.

"No..." the lie is so obvious that even he doesn't believe it, and a small laugh escapes the lips of the brunette, forcing him to cover his mouth quickly with his hand.

"Fuck you." you say automatically and head back to the bathroom, finally facing your reflection.

Your hair is completely stained, some parts more yellowish, others completely blonde, and the majority without even changing at all.

"You've got to be kidding me," you say, completely incredulous, staring at yourself with so much frustration that the guy beside you can't control himself anymore and starts laughing like a fool.

And all you can do is laugh along with him, covering your face still slightly disbelieving.

"Why did I let you mess with my hair?" You say when you finally catch your breath, still amidst some chuckles, pushing the guy lightly to make him stop laughing too.

"HEY! You would've made the same mess if you had done it yourself..." he replies, shrugging as if you both knew that was an obvious fact, because it was.

"What do I do now?" you force out a frustrated whimper, almost like a cry, and cover your face again with your hands, nodding your head.

"Do you want me to take you to a professional? There must be a salon nearby." His voice sounds genuinely generous, and you realize he's trying to find any solution to make you stop feeling bad. Steve had a life mission that was never allowing your face not to be complete with your pretty smile, and he was very good at completing that mission. He would do anything, absolutely anything, and would always be seeking solutions to your problems simply because he couldn't stand seeing you like that.

"I don't have money..." you reply, somewhat embarrassed to admit it out loud, and then he understands why all that stupid idea, the reason all that chaos had happened today.

For a moment, he feels terrible for saying it was a stupid idea. After all, it's not like you had any other option. But now wasn't the time to lament. He just needed to fix the whole situation.

"And who said you have to pay? Let's say it's to make up for the fact that I messed up your hair." he says, holding your wrists to stop you from hiding your face, lowering your hands and forcing you to look at him.

There was that gentle smile again. That smile that made you completely lose all your senses and curse for a few moments the fact that you were such good friends. Because that meant you would only be that, nothing more, never.

That killed Steve every day. He wouldn't bear living with the idea of confessing and losing you. Even though that idea tormented him every time his hazel eyes met yours. He preferred you to be just his best friend rather than nothing at all.

That's why you both always said so many things through all those silent looks. Every time.

And maybe, in that second, lost once again in one of those deafening silences, Steve had thought too loud.

"You still look beautiful." the boy's voice comes out soft, almost inaudible, a confession that should have been said only inside his head, and that catches you completely off guard.

You firmly believe that confession is just an illusion of your head, probably the product's chemistry affected your neurons in some way. That's why the only thing you can respond is "fuck off" followed by a laugh without grace.

And then you return to the here and now, and everything seems too extreme. You notice that the guy's hands still hold your wrists, and what is normally a daily touch becomes something completely out of the ordinary.

Your chest is so fast-paced that you wish the product were burning your nostrils again because that would make it easier to breathe than now, and you pretend not to notice how the boy's cheeks gain a strong red tone, making his countless freckles even more prominent.

"I'll get the keys." he says, looking away and scratching his neck, completely out of place now, in an attempt to pretend that moment hadn't just happened.

"Yeah, sure. I'll change and meet you outside." you also say a little desperate and embarrassed, stumbling over your own feet and lost within the small bathroom before exiting in front of the guy.

After walking out the door, you don't notice anything else that happens during your day because your head doesn't think of anything else but Steve's voice echoing those words.

You still look beautiful.

And you dream of the day when you'll have enough courage to set aside all your fears and say that back to him.

hey!! I had this idea of oneshot while I was bleaching my hair... I really wanted to have a Steve to help me do it, but sadly it is impossible, so I had to dream a little bit lol

anyway, it would be awesome to hear your opnions and I really hope you've enjoyed it!! <3

[suffermaze]

❅ "DYEING" FOR YOU | STEVE HARRINGTON

❅ ROSE PETALS | STEVE HARRINGTON

[suffermaze]

❅ PLAY PRETEND | JOSEPH QUINN

❅ CONTROLLING | EDDIE MUNSON

[suffermaze]

STRANGER THINGS

❅ STEVE HARRINGTON | JOE KEERY ❅ EDDIE MUNSON | JOSEPH QUINN

[suffermaze]

"dyeing" for you | steve harrington

summary: Steve is your best friend and you really want to bleach your hair, at home, by yourself. Of course the boy wants to help you, but things go really wrong and all of the sudden it's not only your hair that turns out clearer than before. 3k.

Steve always had the urge to help you, or anyone, no matter what. And you knew, deep down, that he felt that way because nobody had ever helped him in his whole life. He wouldn't be able to stand treating someone the way he had been treated before.

"Shit!" you shouted, your voice reverberating off the ceramic walls, the sound muffled from the outside. But it was enough for the boy's honey-colored eyes, filled with concern, to meet yours. The door swung open against the palm of his hand.

"What happened?" Steve asked, his eyes scanning your entire body for any possible injury or cut, anything. It took a few moments for the boy to see the liquid spread on the floor and for you to finish counting the 10 seconds needed for your breathing to return to normal, looking back at him.

"Nothing... just..." you huffed, closing your eyes when your gaze fell on the mess and the traces of the disaster you caused around your feet. For a moment, all you wanted was for time to freeze now and for you to be able to disappear. Your hair formed a huge, tangled mess, the only thing covering your body being an old, stained t-shirt. The last thing you wanted was to be seen in this deplorable state, especially by him.

But Steve thought you were adorable, especially with that annoyed look and a big pout drawing your lips without you realizing it.

"Need help?" You barely had time to answer the question, as he was already kneeling in front of you, picking up the utensils scattered on the floor and cleaning the spilled bleach with a piece of paper.

"I can do it on my own." your voice sounded sharper than you would like, but the boy is unfazed by it. Both he and you knew that it was said with the intention of proving something more to yourself than to anyone else.

"I know you can, but that's not what I asked..." The smile on his face, so kind and playful, makes it impossible for you not to smile foolishly and roll your eyes, giving in and sitting on the stool once again, for him to do the work for you.

A shiver ran down your spine when suddenly you felt the cold bleach on your hair. Turning yourself slightly, from the startle, you could see the boy with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, his lip caught between his teeth with a mixed expression of concern and concentration.

"Everything okay?" he asked, seeming too nervous to make any slight movement. He was afraid of hurting you or doing anything wrong. You're forced to place your hand over his, caressing the back of it with your thumb. a reassuring smile on your face. You can feel him relax under your touch, and a long trembling sigh escapes from his pinkish lips.

It’s a bit strange at the beginning, and you’re not sure why. Being in silence with him always felt easy, the way it feels when you’re with someone just right to you. You don’t need words to fill anything, or to always be doing something so you don’t feel like something is out of place. With Steve, just being with him was enough.

But now, everything seems too much. And you’re almost sure something is off. Because you can’t fight the urge to look into the mirror, just so you could see the boy’s reflection, just so you could trace the lines of his jaw tense due to how concentrated he was, and then relaxing once again when a soft smile graced his lips as his eyes connected with yours, his eyes seeming to glow instantly just from meeting your face. And you two get lost for a moment, like that, looking at each other. 

You know it’s different this time. It feels different.Those weren’t the eyes of the boy you knew for a few years now, the one you would gladly call your best friend. Those were the eyes of the boy you were in love since the first time your gaze fell on him. 

And, for a slightly moment, you feel like he saw those eyes on you two, because he let out a deep sigh before looking back to your hair, which he was holding softly in his hands, almost feeling like he forced his way back to the reality where, he truly believed, you would never look at him that way. 

You barely feel the time passing, and the process is so careful that you hardly notice when it's over. Steve was so attentive that you almost dozed off several times, and only when you heard the slightly hoarse voice of the brunette did you snap back to reality, opening your eyes in surprise.

"I think... I'm done?" he finally says, looking at you with a certain strangeness, as if seeing an exotic animal for the first time. And then it hits you: you trusted Steve Harrington to bleach your hair. And, with all due respect, much of the boy's charm was due to how CLUMSY he was.

A nervous laugh escapes your throat as you look in the mirror. your hair completely plastered with white cream, full of pellets because someone didn't mix it properly.

"Are you... sure?" your voice comes out wavering as you look at him through the mirror's reflection, and the boy smiles confidently, even though his eyes said otherwise.

For a moment, you wonder if that was a good idea. Maybe, just maybe, your first time bleaching your hair shouldn't have been alone at home, with the help of your best friend who definitely had never done anything like that before either. But you didn't have many choices.

"And now?" he says, crossing his arms and swaying back and forth, starting to get restless.

"Now we wait." or at least, that's what you believed you should do.

"Wait for what exactly?" his eyes narrow at you, starting to realize that you also had no idea what was supposed to happen there.

"My hair starts to lighten... I guess." you smile nervously at him, and in the same instant, all that false confidence he presented starts to evaporate and give way to his famous worried motherly personality.

"What do you mean you guess? Didn't you read the label?" he stares at you incredulously, his eyes slightly closed as he tries to understand what went through your head when you planned all that. if you even planned anything at all.

"Pff, no? Who reads the label?" you reply, a nervous giggle on your lips as you look away. you try your hardest to seem cool about it, but panic begins to take over your body, which seems to shake more and more.

"EVERYONE READS THE LABEL! How do you even know if this shit was within its expiration date?"

"Come on, Steve, this kind of thing doesn't have an expiration date." you say that more as an affirmation to yourself than to the boy, an attempt to deceive yourself and pretend that everything was fine.

But Steve doesn't help at all with this, because unlike you, he wasn't the type of person who could hide when he was completely freaking out.

"OF COURSE IT DOES." he yells, arms thrown up in the air emphasizing the desperation of the taller one.

And that's enough for you to start panicking too.

"Give me the pot. Let me see if the smell is weird." It's the first, and honestly, the only idea that crosses your mind at this moment. Steve looks at you, eyebrows raised as if to say "are you sure?", but you've completely lost patience, and a nearly growl escapes your throat as you reach out towards the boy, making him flinch a bit.

He then hands you the little that was left of the mixture, and you inhale so forcefully that your eyes start to water instantly. The air tears through your throat and it's impossible not to cough like crazy, your organs feeling like they're melting inside you.

"Bad idea. Bad idea." you say between coughs, trying to recover the pure air that used to fill your lungs.

"Oh c’mon. it can’t be that bad." he takes the pot back and brings it closer to his face, somewhat hesitantly. "Oh god, it burns." and then, you lean on each other, completely losing composure and unable to regain your breath now that laughter intersperses with coughs.

And it's at that moment that you start to feel your scalp initially just tingling, but in a fraction of a second BURSTING INTO FLAMES.

"oh fuck. it burns." you say, swallowing hard and squeezing the boy's arm next to you tightly. your wide eyes looking at him. the rest of the world seeming to slow down as your body tenses up.

"I know. i just said that." he keeps laughing, completely unaware of what's happening, finding everything way too funny.

"No, Steve." you take a deep breath, trying not to freak out and lose your mind completely. and you say it slowly like someone trying to explain the simplest thing in the world to a child who doesn't understand anything at all. "my head is burning."

"ooooooh shit. oh shit." Steve then stops laughing and composes himself, straightening up as he holds your shoulders, looking at you with his eyes almost popping out. "What do we do?"

"I don't know. Should I wait? is it a bad sign?" You say, trying your hardest not to lose it at the same speed as him, because if both of you panicked, you were sure things could get ugly very quickly, and it was your hair that was in mortal danger at the moment.

"What do you mean by a bad sign? I guess your head burning is a pretty horrible sign," he replies, analyzing your hair and trying to understand what was so wrong, because from the outside, nothing seemed to have happened.

"Should I take it off- fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck it's getting worse." you say, now holding the boy's arms back, your fingers gripping so tightly that your knuckles hurt.

"God, what do I do?" Steve shouts, trying to make you look at him, hoping that someone or anything would get him out of this kind of situation. There was no worse feeling than helplessness for Steve.

"I don't know. SOMETHING?" You shout back, no longer able to think or pay attention to anything other than the sensation of fire on top of your head.

"Shit. shit. shit. ok…. ok…." he starts spinning in the bathroom, hands gesturing desperately in search of something that could help. and, acting on impulse, he gently wraps his arm around your body, pushing you towards the shower.

"Close your eyes." he says, sounding like a warning, with a certain urgency in his voice.

"what?" but you don't even have time to process what's happening. out of nowhere, you feel the cold water running down your head and then all over you. The shock makes you shiver and let out a ridiculous squeal. "WHAT?"

"Sorry." he says, his voice full of fear and concern. For a moment, you feel like punching the boy in the face, but when you get used to the water temperature, the sensation is wonderful. your body automatically relaxes, and your head starts to cool down more and more.

"You’re so lucky it works." a smile appears on your face, and you can't see it, but at the same time, Steve smiles too.

"Thank God." he says, genuinely, along with a relieved sigh, because he knew that he would be in trouble if that stupid idea hadn't worked out.

When you manage to open your eyes again, you find the boy next to you in the shower, his shirt slightly wet too, sticking to his chest, and it's impossible not to lose consciousness for a few seconds. maybe a few seconds more than you notice, because he clears his throat a little awkwardly, catching your attention. a shy smile and a failed attempt to hide it on his face. 

"I'll... I'll wait for you to finish here. I’ll be outside." he says, bringing both of you back to the real world. He seemed a bit lost in his own words and actions, slightly spacey.

"Sure! sure... good idea." you say, and now it's your face that's burning up in flames. You hope he doesn't notice before turning around and leaving you alone in the bathroom. Your eyes close once again, now out of frustration, and you huff, slapping your palm against your forehead as you mutter an "idiot..." to yourself.

It takes courage to face the mirror after you finish cleaning up.

And, at that moment, you don't have that courage. 

That's why you wrap a towel around your hair before even covering your own body after the bath. After changing and combing your wet hair, you shout for your best friend, who appears within seconds in the room, his T-shirt still slightly damp.

When his eyes meet yours, you notice him trying to hide the shock, pressing his lips together, his chest puffing up as he takes a deep breath. And you know it cannot be a good sign.

"Did it turn out really bad?" you ask, your eyebrows knitting in anguish.

"No..." the lie is so obvious that even he doesn't believe it, and a small laugh escapes the lips of the brunette, forcing him to cover his mouth quickly with his hand.

"Fuck you." you say automatically and head back to the bathroom, finally facing your reflection.

Your hair is completely stained, some parts more yellowish, others completely blonde, and the majority without even changing at all.

"You've got to be kidding me," you say, completely incredulous, staring at yourself with so much frustration that the guy beside you can't control himself anymore and starts laughing like a fool.

And all you can do is laugh along with him, covering your face still slightly disbelieving.

"Why did I let you mess with my hair?" You say when you finally catch your breath, still amidst some chuckles, pushing the guy lightly to make him stop laughing too.

"HEY! You would've made the same mess if you had done it yourself..." he replies, shrugging as if you both knew that was an obvious fact, because it was.

"What do I do now?" you force out a frustrated whimper, almost like a cry, and cover your face again with your hands, nodding your head.

"Do you want me to take you to a professional? There must be a salon nearby." His voice sounds genuinely generous, and you realize he's trying to find any solution to make you stop feeling bad. Steve had a life mission that was never allowing your face not to be complete with your pretty smile, and he was very good at completing that mission. He would do anything, absolutely anything, and would always be seeking solutions to your problems simply because he couldn't stand seeing you like that.

"I don't have money..." you reply, somewhat embarrassed to admit it out loud, and then he understands why all that stupid idea, the reason all that chaos had happened today.

For a moment, he feels terrible for saying it was a stupid idea. After all, it's not like you had any other option. But now wasn't the time to lament. He just needed to fix the whole situation.

"And who said you have to pay? Let's say it's to make up for the fact that I messed up your hair." he says, holding your wrists to stop you from hiding your face, lowering your hands and forcing you to look at him.

There was that gentle smile again. That smile that made you completely lose all your senses and curse for a few moments the fact that you were such good friends. Because that meant you would only be that, nothing more, never.

That killed Steve every day. He wouldn't bear living with the idea of confessing and losing you. Even though that idea tormented him every time his hazel eyes met yours. He preferred you to be just his best friend rather than nothing at all.

That's why you both always said so many things through all those silent looks. Every time.

And maybe, in that second, lost once again in one of those deafening silences, Steve had thought too loud.

"You still look beautiful." the boy's voice comes out soft, almost inaudible, a confession that should have been said only inside his head, and that catches you completely off guard.

You firmly believe that confession is just an illusion of your head, probably the product's chemistry affected your neurons in some way. That's why the only thing you can respond is "fuck off" followed by a laugh without grace.

And then you return to the here and now, and everything seems too extreme. You notice that the guy's hands still hold your wrists, and what is normally a daily touch becomes something completely out of the ordinary.

Your chest is so fast-paced that you wish the product were burning your nostrils again because that would make it easier to breathe than now, and you pretend not to notice how the boy's cheeks gain a strong red tone, making his countless freckles even more prominent.

"I'll get the keys." he says, looking away and scratching his neck, completely out of place now, in an attempt to pretend that moment hadn't just happened.

"Yeah, sure. I'll change and meet you outside." you also say a little desperate and embarrassed, stumbling over your own feet and lost within the small bathroom before exiting in front of the guy.

After walking out the door, you don't notice anything else that happens during your day because your head doesn't think of anything else but Steve's voice echoing those words.

You still look beautiful.

And you dream of the day when you'll have enough courage to set aside all your fears and say that back to him.

hey!! I had this idea of oneshot while I was bleaching my hair... I really wanted to have a Steve to help me do it, but sadly it is impossible, so I had to dream a little bit lol

anyway, it would be awesome to hear your opnions and I really hope you've enjoyed it!! <3

[suffermaze]

⊶✶ alaska. 20y. leo. any pronouns.

requests open! ❅ masterlist ❅ support me on kofi! ❅ twitter

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED/REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS.

[suffermaze]

soother | eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie helps you calm down when you're starting to have a anxiety crises.

word count: 1.5k

i was a bit anxious so i just wrote a little blurb :)

.｡.:*✧ 🧺🫐🤍 ✧*:.｡.

in between cleaning chores in your room, you find yourself curled up against the wall side of the bed, quiet and static. to be honest, you don't even remember how it started, the whole overthinking process that led you to a motionless state. the feeling of an unknown guilt, sadness and even a bit of anger consumes you out of the blue putting you through a loop of every silly mistake you could ever done. even though it's uninvited, it's a familiar feeling. anxiety — a useless, chaotic thing that has been haunting you the past few months, or years.

today is supposed to be different. eddie is set to arrive at your house in a few minutes, ready for a day filled with shared meals and quality time. it's his day off, and his desire to spend every minute with you extends beyond stolen kisses during his work breaks throughout the week. you don’t answer the door when he knocks, which he finds odd. eddie's curiosity lingers, you always welcome him with a delightful smile and open arms. so, he waits a few minutes until he’s using his spare key. you hear eddie entering down the hallway, and a thin line of relief makes the queasy feeling lessen.

he enters the room, all smiles and excited to spend the day with you when he sees how tiny and muffled you look on that bed. he’s worried, you don’t move or say anything, an unusual thing for when he’s entering your room, but you don't seem like sleeping when he hears the sniffling.

“baby?” eddie asks, approaching gingerly your body. he leaves his tiny package of goodies he brought you on your bedside table, and sits down on the bed, and now, closely, realizes you’re shivering a little. his calloused hand goes to your leg and then goes up until your arm, caressing it, but you don't turn around. instead, you try to stop crying, to not look weak or just a crybaby in front of your boyfriend. c’mon, you’re a grown up now! but it gets harder to suppress your tears when he’s there, and you're swept away by a wave of emotion that you can’t even comprehend.

he lies next to you, putting his head on between your shoulders and head, kissing your temple gently. eddie carefully takes his shoes off while getting comfortable around you, and you can just hear the stomping of his boots hitting the floor, and it's a strangely comforting sound, knowing he’s gonna stick around.

“wanna tell me what's wrong?” he whispers, not demanding, but there's a genuine preoccupation on his tone, a subtle acknowledgment of the recurring battles with anxiety that he's witnessed before.

“nothing” you whisper back, your voice raspy and tired. “just…i don’t know, it seems like there's too much in my head and…i can’t…” you struggle to cry and breathe and talk at the same time. eddie nods with his head towards you, with a knowing gaze, squeezing your arms so you know it's alright, you can take your time. but there's nothing to say, just a big knot on your throat and a heavy feeling on your chest.

"it's okay, it's okay," eddie assures you, and suddenly he's babying you, gently pulling your body into his chest, almost as if you were a fragile, precious thing. his fingers gently run through your hair, brushing a few strands away from your damp face, and then he embraces you with his other arm, intertwining your fingers as he reaches your cold hand. eddie takes both hands - his and yours - to your chest and takes a deep breath. "come on, breathe with me. will you, sweetheart?"

and you try to follow his request. your mind seems to become less clouded, gradually less noisy, and you stay that way for at least fifteen minutes, in complete silence, lying on his chest as he helps you to calm down. it's comfortable and familiar, something that makes you feel at home, as if you could break down all your barriers and never leave.

as eddie holds you close, the rise and fall of his chest becomes a calming rhythm, a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. his reassuring presence acts as a grounding force, bringing you back to this moment, to the present. the soft strokes of his fingers on your back provide a soothing cadence, creating a cocoon of comfort.

"it's all right," eddie murmurs softly, his breath a reassuring whisper against your ear. "you don't have to do this alone, sweetheart. i'm here for you, okay?"

his words echo through the quiet room, offering comfort and understanding. gradually the tension in your body begins to dissipate, replaced by a deep sense of security.

time seems to stand still as you lie there, wrapped in the warmth of eddie's embrace. the minutes stretch into an eternity, yet each passing moment brings a subtle ease to the turmoil within. it's as if eddie has created a haven where worries are momentarily set aside and you are enveloped in a sanctuary of shared breath and shared comfort.

"feeling a bit better?" eddie's voice is a soft murmur, breaking the silence without disturbing the stillness. you manage a nod, the weight on your chest lightening with each passing second.

eddie tilts his head and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“thank you, eds.” a breathy sound comes out your lips. you feel embarrassed, your whole face feels swollen now after crying and your head hurts bad now. you’re not ashamed because its eddie, no, he would never make you feel bad about showing your emotions, never. being vulnerable in front of him is easy, he’s your confident, after all. but the crippling anxiety makes you feel like a burden. “i’m sorry, i didn't want to ruin our day”

“hey, no no no, shh” eddie seems almost offended now, scowling at you.. he grabs your face, his two chocolate globes looking through yours, shaking his head. “our day just started, don’t say that. you didn’t ruin shit!”

“so-” you’re about to apologize when he stops you, giving your pout a kiss. a little laugh escapes when he catches you by surprise.

“no apologizing, you did nothing wrong.” eddie's voice is firm, dispelling any lingering doubts.

but he breaks his scowl into a big smile, showing his sweet dimples, and you can’t help it but reciprocate. its a weary and shaky smile, but he looks at you as if you just opened a window to a sunny day. encouraged by his genuine warmth, you let out a small chuckle, a release of tension that had been building within. his fingers, still gently intertwined with yours, offer a comforting squeeze.

"see, not ruined at all," eddie declares with a playful glint in his eyes, his tone lightening the mood. "now, how about we enjoy the rest of our day? what do you say, peach?"

it seems impossible, but eddie shows you colors brighter than they could be.he makes you feel loved, secure and like you can do no wrong. that makes you want to crawl towards him and simply fuse into one, cause no matter how close you were, never seemed enough. there's no gratitude in the world that could express the feeling, but you felt like god, the universe or whatever blessed force, made him just for you. healing every wound, taking any doubt.

you nod at him, a small positive sound coming from your lips, and he beams at you, loosening the embrace just a little to take the small bag you recognise from the bakery downtown, from the bedside table. from it he takes a glazed blueberry muffin, your favourite. as if he could predict you would need it.

“oh my god, i love you so much” you exclaim tenderly, sitting more comfortably to face the boy as he hands you the treat. you take it, feeling lighter and giggly again like a little kid.

you take a huge bite from it, closing your eyes as you did so, savoring the sweet and sour combination. you hum with pleasure, and hear a chuckle from eddie. between bites, you steal glances at the boy, who's watching you with an adoring gaze. you offer the muffin to him, but he refuses it, letting all the joy for you.

“here, there’s some…” he says, pointing to somewhere imaginary on your face, encouraging you to clean it. you follow his lead, attempting to clear away the nonexistent crumb, but you can’t seem to get it right, so he grabs your face again and with his thumb takes a trace of sugar, licks it off. you give him a weird grimace, a false expression of disgust, and with a mischievous grin, he mimics you. the room is now filled with laughter, a sweet melody that erases the lingering traces of anxiety. in this shared moment of lightness, you realize how eddie's presence transforms the ordinary into something extraordinary.

he can’t help himself when you look at him with those eyes, with such affection, passionate, staring at every little detail on his face, wondering how you could get so lucky, eddie has to break the little distance and meet your lips, tasting the sweetness of it, the memory of the glazed muffin awarding him with saccharin kisses.

you felt full. you and eddie in that room, or anywhere, really, you need nothing more.

[suffermaze]

literally in love with the idea of juani & reader just making out on set of lsdln before he’s about to get his hair & makeup done >3<

café y caramelo | juani caruso

summary: un pequeño vistazo a la rutina con juani en las mañanas de set, o mejor dicho, la razón por la que siempre llegan atrasados. 1.4k

fue muy rápido, una hora estabas caminando tranquilamente por los camerinos en dirección al trabajo y a la siguiente te metían en una habitación, sin avisar, sin sospechar, y de repente te encontrabas contra la puerta y unos ojos azules profundos muy familiares se clavaban en los tuyos, con un brillo travieso en la mirada.

"¡ai juani!", exclamaste, llevándote la mano al pecho, sintiendo cómo el corazón se te aceleraba contra las costillas. la sensación del susto reverberaba en los latidos de tu corazón, que oías resonar en tus oídos. "¡no puedes seguir asustándome así!".

fingiendo una falsa frustración, una mueca permanecía en su rostro mientras la sonrisa de juani no hacía más que aumentar. el chico, tratando de esquivar su ceño fruncido, rodeó sus caderas con los brazos, abrazándola fuertemente contra la puerta y le dio un tierno beso, luego apartó la cara para poder mirarla. estaba prácticamente vestido con su disfraz, aún tenía que maquillarse y peluquearse, y sabía que ya había pasado la hora de que estuviera allí.

"estás preciosa con esa cara de enojada", juan tenía una amplia y tonta sonrisa en la cara, que se reflejaba en su expresión boba y apasionada mientras te miraba. era una visión a la que ya estabas acostumbrada y que siempre te llenaba el pecho de una sensación cálida y deliciosa.

"te odio" lo intentó, pero no pudo contener la risa, así que tuvo que morderse el labio. tus manos se dirigieron hacia el pecho del actor en un intento sin esfuerzo de alejarte de él. 

juani, aprovechando su guardia baja, no perdió el tiempo y llevó sus labios a su cuello, debilitando todo su cuerpo, como una maldita táctica, para luego dirigirse a su barbilla y finalmente, a sus labios. no satisfecho, continuó plantando tiernos besos por todo el resto de su cara, provocando auténticas risas en usted. para él, era como escuchar una melodía suave y agradable, que siempre hacía mucho más ligeras las agotadoras y largas jornadas de grabación.

tenerte cerca durante las grabaciones fue una bendición absoluta para juani. os conocisteis en el set, os hicisteis íntimos en la primera semana y desde entonces no os habéis separado. de hecho, le fue muy difícil mantenerse alejado contigo como asistente de maquillaje.

"¿todavía me odias?", preguntó el hombre de pelo ondulado con tono divertido y un brillo en los ojos, tomándose un respiro por un momento tras una sesión apreciando tu rostro.

"un poco menos, un muy poco menos", dejaste caer tu rostro a un lado y deslizaste tus manos por los hombros del chico, que tomó tus palabras como un desafío. 

los ojos de juani se abrieron de par en par, indignado, y te puso la mano en el pecho, haciéndose el ofendido. nunca deja de hacerte reír, y con tu forma de actuar con él es como si no tuvieras control sobre ninguno de los músculos de su cara que esbozan una sonrisa.

"yo sé cómo resolver esto", dice, con expresión decidida y las cejas levantadas. tú le imitas, alzándole las cejas y, naturalmente, vuestras caras se acercan cada vez más hasta que vuestras frentes se presionan.

"¿sabes?", le preguntas mientras tu nariz roza suavemente la suya, provocativamente. tu voz sale más como un susurro debido a la cercanía, soplada sobre los labios de juan, que ahora te sujeta la cintura un poco más fuerte, hundiendo sus dedos en el espacio de piel que hay entre tu camiseta y tus pantalones.

un pequeño escalofrío te recorre la espalda al contacto de sus dedos fríos sobre tu piel, y no te cuesta demasiado ablandarte entre los brazos de tu novio, sobre todo cuando sus labios, cálidos y suaves, chocan con los tuyos tan lenta y suavemente que jadeas. los besos eran siempre suaves y dulces, besarle era como saciar una sed infinita en tu interior que te hacía anhelar más cada vez. 

"vas a tardar" murmuras entre besos, un poco sin aliento y mareada "vamos a tardar".

sueltas una risita mientras intentas ser racional, pero el chico se limita a rodar los ojos, haciendo un gesto de que no le importa.

"sólo cinco minutos más", dice socarronamente, atrapando tus labios de nuevo, pero sin ninguna prisa. cinco minutos podrían haberse convertido fácilmente en diez, pero ambos eran demasiado ajenos al tiempo.

los dedos de juani se deslizaron dentro de tu camisa y acariciaron suavemente la base de tu espalda, añadiendo algo más al beso que te hizo querer derretirte contra su cuerpo. apenas te diste cuenta de que estabas de puntillas hasta que te tiró al brazo del sofá, sentándote entre sus piernas. sus manos encontraron tu cara, sujetándola suavemente, ayudando a intensificar el beso. las yemas de sus dedos ejercen poca presión sobre sus mejillas, pero mantienen su cara lo suficientemente cerca como para que él pueda ordenar hábilmente el movimiento de sus labios.

el desliza su lengua bajo la tuya y pequeñas centellas recorren tu cuerpo como chispas, suficientes para hacerte suspirar entre beso y beso. juani sabe a café y caramelo, y disfrutas explorando cada rincón de su boca mientras sus lenguas bailan en armonía. es fácil perderse en esa sensación, en la calidez de sus labios y la suavidad de su mano sujetando tu cara, y con los ojos cerrados, pareces bucear en busca de más.

tus manos recorren los brazos de juani hasta llegar a sus rizos, y el chico se estremece bajo tu tacto cuando siente tus dedos recorrer su cuero cabelludo. respira hondo por un momento, sintiéndose embriagado por su aroma y la sensación de sus labios suaves y adictivos. ese no sería el único beso del día, por supuesto, juani volvería a besarte a escondidas entre cortes de grabación, cuando vengas a retocarle el maquillaje, o después de comer, mientras los chicos se distraen viendo algún partido en la tele, y seguro que te besaría un millón de veces más en el hotel, pero aun así, teme perderte ni un segundo en esa rutina.

el ruido fuera, en el pasillo, empieza a acercarse cada vez más, reconoces la risa de pipe y la voz de enzo, y sabes que te estás quedando cada vez más atrás, ya que se dirigen a maquillarse. esto te ayuda a recuperar la cordura, y empujas ligeramente a juani, tan resistente como él a deshacerse el uno del otro. él también sabe lo mucho que te gustaría pasar el día así, pero el trabajo llama.

con besos lentos, te suelta la cara, como si le costara soltarte. es como intentar salir de la cama en una mañana fría cuando estás bajo las cubiertas calentitas. tortuoso.

luego, en un último besito, te atrapa el labio inferior con el diente y te lo muerde suavemente, sólo para burlarse de ti, anticipándose a la sonrisa coja que tendrás poco después. en respuesta, tu mano le da una palmada en el trasero al chico, que gruñe y se aparta completamente de ti.

"¿cómo tratas a tu novio? que te ha traído café". juani devuelve ese tono de falsa ofensa, retrocediendo hasta la estantería y cogiendo el vaso caliente para entregártela. 

todas las mañanas se empeña en recogerte el café de la cafetería que te gusta, porque juani sabe cuánto odias el café amargo y fuerte que tienen en el set. con una sonrisa de agradecimiento, coges el café y le das un sorbo, sintiendo cómo el sabor a canela se extiende por tu lengua y calienta todo tu cuerpo.

"sabes que no puedes usar eso como excusa, ¿no?", le dices, mirándole por debajo de las pestañas mientras bebes otro sorbo. 

"¿qué?", pregunta juani, como si no lo supiera. saltas del brazo del sofá al mismo tiempo que él abre la puerta del camerino y se asegura de que no hay nadie en el pasillo.

"que llegas tarde al café, esa mentira se está quedando un poco vieja", bromeas de pie en el umbral de la puerta, entre él y el pasillo. 

el de los ojos azules sonríe, baja la cabeza y la sacude negativamente. "bueno, no soy un mentiroso total, ¿eh? al menos miento mejor que tú".

camináis por el pasillo, mientras juani se ajusta el cuello de su traje, tú intentas alisar la arruga de su ropa. se os escapa una risa cómplice mientras os miráis furtivamente, es difícil resistir el impulso de arrastrarle de nuevo a ese probador, o de no cogerle de la mano mientras camináis, pero vuestras manos chocan entre sí dos o tres veces. podrías acostumbrarte, eso seguro. todas esas mañanas de momentos robados y besos con sabor a café.

"oye", te llama juani, justo cuando estás a punto de entrar en la sala de maquillaje. te roba otro besito rápido y luego desliza el pulgar por la comisura de tu labio, limpiando los restos de espuma del capuchino. " nos vemos luego, ¿eh?"

espero que lo hayan gostado! feliz san valentin atrasado, mis amores <3

[suffermaze]

play pretend | joseph quinn

summary: Stranger Things comes to its last season and Joseph is your co-star. It's the last scene of the day, you were doing fine until now. But it was a pretty intense moment and it's hard to keep focus when the boy's lips are close to your neck. 2k.

It was the last scene of the day. And you were pretty exhausted. Even though it was easy and actually fun to share the screen with Joseph, who turned everything lighter and enjoyable, all you wanted to do was go home and get some sleep. But you needed to hold on just a little bit more.

It was pretty intense, this last scene, and you needed to stay focused just a little more, but it started to get harder and harder due to your tiredness and Eddie characterization. At this point, he “came back to life” as Kaz, confirming all the fan theories and headcanons. That meant he was like some kind of vampire. Everytime he smiled you could see his fangs and scars covering his chest.

You couldn’t help thinking it was... hot. Like, so, so hot.

You needed to act scared, and thank god you were a really good actress, because you couldn’t think of anything else other than how stunning he was. Your eyes travelling through his whole body.

“Hey… you ok?” his raspy voice takes you out of your own thoughts, and only then you notice how long you've been staring at him with a stupid face.

“What? nothing.” you swallow hard, giggling out of nervousness, and he doesn't believe you, not even for a second “I’m just… trying to remember my part.”

“oh, don't worry, you're doing amazing darling.” he says with a warm smile and a soft voice that almost feels like it's hugging you, and all you can do is nod as you smile back, your cheeks getting warm too, not sure if he was just being nice, cause he was actually a gentleman, or if there was something… more.

You don't have much time to think deeply about it, though. Or saty anything back to him. Because the director gets back to his seat and shouts to everyone to get to their places.

You were ready to go on your own when Joseph takes your hand and guides you to your marks, and suddenly you get embarrassed of the camera, because you feel everyone was looking at the way your hands were intertwined. And he notices how you seemed away, that's why he squeezes your palm as an attempt to reassure you one more time, before you hear the directors voice's loudly again.

“And ACTION! Whenever you’re ready.” 

You take a deep breath and look into those big chocolate puppy eyes. And you feel safe. He’s waiting for you to be prepared, waiting for you to lead the scene, he wouldn't start until you said so, and you nod as a sign. 

It’s almost scary the way he turns so fast to something else. You knew he was good at his job, for real, but witnessing it so close was completely different. His eyes getting darker. You weren’t aware that was something actually real, that someone could actually do that kind of thing, and it seems so easy for him to do so.

Then it’s just easy to get along, to get into character and go with him, following his pace now, like you were someone else too. 

“Eddie? W-what are you doing?” Your voice cracks a little, and you take a step back, frightened. He looked just like your best friend but something was off. 

“Don’t call me that, princess. You know I’m not that freak.” He growls back at you, with a sick smirk on his lips.

A step closer to you, and even though your instincts beg for you to run, you feel frozen, paralyzed. He looks at you up and down, almost like he’s enjoying seeing you so afraid, so vulnerable. 

“That’s not funny Eddie, stop. Please.” You beg one more time, your eyes getting cloudy due the tears. 

“You know what? You’re starting to piss me off…” He’s close enough now, his breathe against your own, and he looks at you, at every detail of your face, every mole that draws your skin, and he hushs. “Too bad I have to do this to such a pretty, pretty girl…”

He caresses your cheek, tracing his fingers down to your neck and getting your hair out of the way. 

And for a second, his eyes slipper to yours and turn soft again, a glance of your sweet boy there once more, a shred of hope. 

“Eddie?” you ask one more time, agonizing, praying he could hear you.

“Run.” He says, with his last glance of consciousness, but it’s too late. 

His fingers dive into the waves of your hair and he holds tight, pulling it back so your neck gets more exposed. 

“Who... who a-are you?” You don’t have any strength to scream or try to escape. You’re horrified, your eyes bursting desperate tears. He smiles, his fangs actually shining when the light hits them, and he dives his teeth to your skin.

And you giggle. 

Automatically flinching, you try to hide your neck, and it takes a second for you to notice what just happened. Your eyes get wide open and your cheeks burst into flames.

“CUT! What the heck was that?” You hear the scream, and Joseph lays his forehead on your shoulder as you cover your mouth out of embarrassment. You were so tired you couldn’t control yourself as his touch tickled your skin. And now your swearing every bad word you could think of inside your head, wanting to desapear to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” you repeated that over and over but when you hear Joseph chuckle, all you can do is laugh too. 

“You got to be kidding me…” he shushes, nodding as he raises his eyebrows and looks at you with some joy on his face. He thought it was cute, because, to be honest, what could you do?

“I’m extremely sorry. I… I don’t know what happened to me… can we… can we take five? Please?” 

You don’t even wait for a confirmation and just run to your dressing room, praying that you could turn invisible for a moment.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” you repeat uninterruptedly, taking deep breaths and opening your restroom sink, throwing some water to your face with the hope that could wake you up and get you to your senses again. And it seems to be working until you hear the knock at your door. 

“I’m almost done, give me just a sec!” You shout through the room, looking your reflex at the mirror as you recompose yourself, but the knock doesn’t go away, and this time it comes accompanied with a sweet voice.

“It’s me, can I come inside?” he asks, seeming a little worried, and you just couldn't say no to him, so you shush a “yes” almost inaudible and he opens the door slowly, entering the room, and immediately closing it behind him. 

It takes a sec to any of you to say something. He just stares at you, concerned.

“… you ok?” his voice is so warm that it feels like a cloud envolves your body. Even though you weren't actually ok, he makes you feel better just by saying that.

“Oh, yes, it’s just… I can’t believe myself, we really had it and I ruined it all…” you sigh, disappointed, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your two fingers.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that. everyone is tired and we understand... you were doing amazing and, you know, we can shoot it over and over again… you don’t have any idea of how many bloopers of me we’re gonna have to watch after the season releases” he laughs, leaning in your direction and looking at you with those big chocolate orbes. You know he’s only saying this to reassure you, to make you feel better, and it works. Actually, he didn’t even need to say anything to make you feel better, but he could always manage to do more.

You felt like you could run away and jump over the highest cliff, because he would catch you, you would be safe. It’s the first time someone made you feel like this in your entire life. You always knew there was something special about that boy. 

And the way he was looking at you now, getting closer and closer, just to caress your hair and make you relax, was really… really special… 

“It’s ok, really…” he says one more time, and you smile softly, starting to believe him. “I have an idea… we could practice, you know, rehearse that scene so you’ll be prepared to shoot it. what do you think?” For a moment, just a second, he seems shy, vulnerable, and then you are finally sure of what that meant. The way he said it faltering, and looked at you with those big wondering eyes.

All those months shooting together, getting to know each other. The way he looked at you, without hesitation, without looking away not even a single time. And the way he smiled when you always looked back. How he was always close, always joking with you, just to make you laugh, just so he could see your smile.

“yeah, that’s a… that’s a pretty good idea.” you chuckle shyly too, your face heating up, the butterflies dancing inside you. Because you felt the same way.

He smiles, wide open, his face almost shining, and he gets even closer, getting his hand to your neck again, now with a really soft touch, making you shiver, feeling so electric that it seemed like a lightning had just hit you within his skin, through his fingertips.

“Whenever you’re ready.” he jokes, trying the best imitation he could do of the director’s voice, and you roll your eyes at his stupidity. you know he was trying to make you relax, but the way every inch of your body is desiring him make it almost ache. 

“Eddie?” you say, your voice sounding a little raspy and aerated because you couldn’t breathe normally, your eyes looking at his under your lashes.

“Don’t run.” Joseph answers, and he smiles at you, his orbes pulling you to him like magnets.

You can’t even say your line back, you just couldn’t breathe properly to your voice to come out. You feel his body getting closer, his face getting closer and closer to yours, the almost nonexistent between you two evaporating.

You stare at him for how long you could, analyzing every single detail that made him himself, just so you could mark the way he was looking at you forever in your head until his lips get to your neck with a gentle kiss. It’s a shock, and you flinch a bit, just because it confirms to you this is real.

You don’t want to laugh this time. On the contrary, you let out a tiny gasp and close your eyes, feeling his warm skin touching yours. His lips tracing its way up your neck, to your jaw, and he stops, just so he could stare at you again, cause he wanted to fix this moment in his mind too.

He holds your face, so carefully you feel you were made of porcelain. Like someone holding the most beautiful flower to ever exist, too afraid to damage its fragile petals. And he kisses you, finally. His lips fit yours so perfectly it almost feels surreal, because it felt like you were designed for each other, like you couldn’t belong to anybody else. It is so soft, the perfect texture, pressure, warmth… Everything was just… perfect. 

You’ve waited for this for so long, and you feel so light, almost flying. It sounds cliche, but you’re pretty sure you could hear the fireworks, the ones that you feel exploding inside your chest, like they were actually around you, almost too close… too real…

“Guys? are you there? we need to keep recording!” you hear a muffled voice behind the door, and someone knocking again and again, louder and louder. “guys?”

It takes you two out of that trance, back to reality, and you look into each other’s eyes with such joy you could see the sparkles.

Joseph laughs through the kiss, and hides his face into your neck again. When he looks at you, his face is red like a tomato, and it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, making you giggle as you bite your lower lip, attempting to hide your smile. 

“We’re coming!” You answer, looking away when you start to blush, trying to recompose yourself as you fix your hair and your clothes, even though they remained intact.

“We can do it.” He says, holding your chin with his thumb and making you look at him, raising his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “You can do it. And I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You nod, holding his hand and squeezing it a little, just to make sure that was real, that it actually happened. 

And you knew, no matter what, from that day on, he would be with you the whole time. 

hello! this is my first time writing in another language and posting something here, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes and I hope you guys understand... anyway, it would be awesome to hear your opnions and I really hope you've enjoyed it!! <3

[suffermaze]

.｡.:*✧ — hi. hola. i’m mia. 20y. latina.

✧*:.｡. — my requests are open and i would love writing for you! also, my dms are always open if you wanna chat :) 

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