#!!!!!! HE UNDERSTOOD DIMPLE RIGHT AWAY

[brown-little-robin]

MY FAVORITE UNCLE IS WATCHING MOB PSYCHO 100 THIS IS NOT A DRILL

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

the next level [s.h.] 18+

an: i have not written in months but this ask revived a little part of me i think. i missed you and hope to have some motivation to write every once in a while…if you’ll have me. love you big 💌 (feel free to send requests as always and lmk what you think!!!)

masterlist here!!

summary: coming to terms with being hopelessly in love with your long term best friend is easy enough (it’s not) until the years of touching and tension come to a head on a visit home from school 

(steve harrington x fem!reader) 18+ only

warnings: tiny use of y/n, fluff, cursing, teasing, messy kissing, spit, use of a toy, dirty talk, smidge of f masturbation, fingering, p in v, pet names, yearninggggg MDNI!!!!!!

wc: 10k+

There has always been something between you and Steve. Stolen glances and lingering touches that teetered right on the edge of friendship or something more. Drunken kisses that had your cheeks tinged pink and your heart racing far faster than normal. 

Despite the tension between you, the heated eyes and sickly sweet pet names, what really warmed you was just how good Steve was. He’d held you while you cried, listened to you ramble on and complain about everything under the sun for as long as you needed and never made you feel like it was too much. That’s what you really loved about him, he never made you feel like you were too much. 

Even when you got in those moods of yours, the ones where you pushed him away because you couldn’t handle how you felt and didn’t know how to cope with the thoughts in your head, he didn’t budge. He’d give you a kiss on your forehead, hold his lips there for a few seconds too long and whisper how he loved you, how he understood and how he’d be here when you were ready to talk about it. 

Now that you think about it, you really can’t remember a time where you weren’t in love with Steve Harrington.

 His ears must have been burning, your phone buzzing against your thigh has you shaking your head to clear your thoughts and you look down to be met with his name flashing across your screen. 

“Hello, Harrington.” 

“It took you a whole 7 seconds to pick up my call, I could have been dying over here.” 

Even though he can’t see you, you roll your eyes at him, laughing under your breath. “And I’m your first call?” 

“Who the hell else would be my first call, princess.” 

What you can only describe as a gasp gets caught in your throat and you hope he didn’t catch it. Your cheeks are warm and there’s a swirling in your tummy at the use of the pet name that has you gripping the phone a little too tight. 

“911, I hope.” 

His laugh is loud and without even closing your eyes you can tell it’s the kind where his head is thrown back and his eyes are squeezed tight. You know his throat is on display and you wonder if he’s cut his hair or if he still has those curls at the nape of his neck you love so much. 

“God, I miss you.” It slips out before you can stop it, cheeks turning red in an instant. His laughter slows as if he’s sobering up and you curse yourself under your breath. Your mouth opens to say something, anything to dig yourself out of this awkward hole you’ve fallen into when he speaks. “I miss you too, sweet girl. I always miss you. All the fucking time.” 

There’s a ringing in your ears as you let his words hit your skin, stick to you and try and worm their way into parts of yourself you’ve tried to keep locked up. He’s your friend. Your best friend. Best friends can miss each other, but hearing him laugh like that and just hearing his voice without being able to see him, to touch him makes you feel like your chest is caving in and it’s suddenly harder to breathe. 

Steve’s the kind of person that takes up the whole room. All eyes are drawn to him as soon as he walks in, chocolate eyes that you swear to god sparkle when he smiles, deep dimples and a stray curl that twists against his forehead. And when his gaze catches yours, it’s like time stops. Everything outside of him is a blur and your whole body buzzes under his gaze. 

At least you think that’s how everyone feels when they’re in a room with him. 

He’s still in your ear talking about plans for the holidays and all the things you have to see, as if anything has or will ever change in Hawkins. He ends the call with a promise to talk tomorrow, but you know one of you will end up texting before the night is over anyways. 

A gust of wind from your open window sends goosebumps across your bare arms, the chilly November air has a bite to it and it sends you back to a memory of Steve from high school that has a smile threatening to take over. 

*5 years ago, sophomore year*

There might be a pink highlighter smudge across your cheek from the way your body jolts from a post study daze at the creak of your window being slid all the way open. 

“You left your window open for me.” 

It’s not a question, you both know that. Your body seems to realize who it is before your mind does, relaxing back into your bed and giving Steve a small, timid smile from where he’s crawling through your window. 

Words don’t seem to be an option right now so you shrug at him, scooting over so there’s room for him to slide in next to you. It’s a routine the two of you seem to have, coming to each other for comfort, when you’re bored, when you miss the other. Really any reason to be together, you’ll take. 

The bed dips beside you and a second later his arm is around you, pulling you closer so you’re tucked into him. “My own personal Wendy Darling, hm?” He chuckles at the blush crawling up your neck and touching your ears. 

One thing you’ve noticed is that Steve almost always has a hand on you, like he needs to feel your skin against his if he’s in the same room. Like now, laying in your bed his hand has made its way up to your hair and he’s twirling a few strands between his fingers, tugging gently every once in a while. 

It’s quiet in the room, the hum of the fan is persistent even in the cold because you can’t sleep without the noise. Your cheek is pressed tight against him, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes lulling you to sleep. 

You can feel yourself slipping away when he speaks, the vibration in his chest making your eyes pop open. “Why do you leave the window open for me? It’s not really safe.” He laughs a little at the end, not sincere but you know he’s doing it to cover up the hint of real curiosity in his voice. 

It takes you a second to answer, not because you don’t know but because you can’t fathom that he doesn’t know. It’ll always be open for him. No matter what happens or what changes between the two of you, you will always open it. 

“Because I love you. Because I want you to know that this is always going to be a safe space for you and that you can always come to me, for anything.” You could go on, to tell him how the creak of the window is your favorite sound because you know that it means he’s here, that he was thinking of you. You could tell him how you’re so in love with him there’s probably not a thing you wouldn’t do to make him comfortable, to make him happy. 

But you don’t. You look up at him and know that your eyes give away more than you like but it’s okay because so do his. 

He presses a kiss to your temple and even though it didn’t seem possible, pulls you closer to his chest and smiles to himself when your breathing evens out and you melt into him. 

*end of flashback*

Opening your eyes again, the coldness of your skin tells you that you’re not in your childhood bedroom in Hawkins, Steve isn’t pressed up against you, and you’re not in high school anymore. You look around at your too small but cozy apartment in Chicago, 2 years of college under your belt and an ache in your chest at the absence of the familiarity of home. Of Steve. 

A ping from your phone has you looking down and just as you suspected, neither of you could wait until tomorrow and you can’t help the giddy feeling that takes over immediately. 

Steve: Forgot to mention this, even though it should go without saying, but don’t make any plans without me when you’re home. Might even handcuff us together if I’m feeling crazy. 

Y/n: You have handcuffs on standby?

Steve: Wouldn’t you like to know. 

And suddenly the countdown to Thanksgiving break seems much more exciting and you realize you would very much like to know. 

————————————-

The next three weeks fly by and before you know it you’re pulling into the driveway of your childhood home, a scarf wrapped around you because the heat isn’t working right in your too old car and a smile on your face at the sight of the front door being pulled open and your siblings pouring out to greet you. 

No matter how badly you miss your family, it doesn’t take long for your social battery to drain. You’re tired from the drive and you’ve spent the last few hours answering questions about school and friends and even the weather. 

Pulling yourself up the stairs takes effort and the click of the door to your childhood bedroom behind you sends waves of relief through your body. 

But being back in this room is the same every time. 

Your body is on clockwork, feet shuffling you across the room before you even know what’s happening and you truly feel a sense of home when you reach up and flip the lock on your window. 

—————————————

Fingertips skimming across your forehead, then your cheek, then cupping your jaw, you find yourself leaning into the touch, even though you’re not sure who it is. But really you do. You always do. 

One eye cracks open but it’s so bright you squeeze them closed again. When did you fall asleep? It must be morning, early by the looks of it. It’s when a thumb swipes over your bottom lip that your eyes pop open, mouth opening to yell or just gape—you’re not sure which. But before you can his palm is covering your mouth, fingers splayed against your jaw and a wicked grin on his lips. 

“Shhh, s’just me. Good morning, princess.” 

His reassurance does little to slow down your racing heart, lips tingling where his skin touches yours and you fight the urge to pucker them against his palm. It’s like he knows it too, mischievous eyes and a lop sided smile as he takes you in for the first time in months. 

Between him waking you up and pressing his hand over your mouth, you haven’t even realized he’s on top of you, thighs spread over your hips and the hand not on your mouth is buried in the sheets beside your head holding him up. 

You’re lucky you slipped on a t-shirt—an old one of his of course— before bed or he would be able to see the red creeping up your chest and curling around your neck at the smell of him. Vanilla and some sweet fruit you can’t bother to remember when he’s inches away from you. He must have showered just before he came, still damp curls framing his face and strawberry lips glossy from the chapstick you know he has in his back pocket. 

Just as handsome as you remember, somehow more so, you can’t help the sigh that lands against his palm, your arms reaching up to wrap themselves around his neck and pull him down so he’s flush against you. You whisper his name into the space between you, what little there is, and feel him tense for just a split second before he’s molding himself against you. 

It’s a little dramatic and a lot embarrassing when you feel tears well up in your eyes, how much you missed him and how right this feels all becoming too much. Blinking them away as quick as possible, you both stay still for seconds or maybe minutes before he pulls back, smiling down at you, eyes catching yours. 

“Who knew king Steve was so desperate for a hug from me he’d break in at 6 am.” It’s mumbled against his palm that’s now loosely pressed against you, but he hears it all the same. There’s a flash in his eyes and you get to see them turn serious for just a split second before that glint returns. The one that tells you you’re in trouble. 

“Oh I’ve been desperate for you forever, baby.” He doesn’t give you anytime to react or to even process what he’s said because in the next second he’s pulling off of you, giving a quick pinch to your cheek and winking at you as he pulls open your bedroom door to head downstairs. 

“Now c’mon, I’m hungry and I can’t have my breakfast in bed with your family downstairs.” 

A scoff of surprise leaves your lips, eyes wide as you watch him bound down the stairs, your family welcoming him with a chorus of hellos and welcomes as you try to figure out what the hell just happened. 

You’re pulling on the first clothes you see when your eyes catch on the window, a smile and a flicker in your chest when you see it’s still half open. 

Breakfast passes in a blur. It’s loud and busy and no one lets anyone else finish a sentence. Steve’s thigh stays flush against yours the whole time, his hand coming to give it a squeeze when he catches you drifting off amongst the chaos. 

It’s when your mom quiets the room, everyone going still that you stiffen under his touch. “So Steve, any new girlfriend?” Your dad takes a swig of his coffee, eyes cast down at his plate. Your sisters are holding their breath and looking between you and Steve with frantic eyes. And your mom is painfully unaware that you’re in love with Steve and this is the last thing you want to hear about. Ever. Everyone seems to know except for her and you can’t even be mad when she’s so genuine. 

His hand is still on your thigh and suddenly it feels hot to the touch. If he’s nervous or uncomfortable he doesn’t show it, still wearing that smug smile that’s become his signature. 

“Ahh no, you know me. Only girls in my life are at this table. Plus Robin.” You swear she swoons, your sisters too. And you would roll your eyes at him if it wasn’t for the way he was rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on your leg, eyes darting to the side to catch yours. 

The room roars back to life at his admission and you hate to admit how relieved you are to hear he’s not seeing anyone. With everyone yelling over each other no one seems to notice you lean a little closer to whisper in his ear. 

“Good one, Harrington. You’ve got them all wrapped around your finger.” 

Something must have changed between the last visit home and this one. He’s got a way about him that screams confidence. He’s always been cocky, but he’s more direct with you now. You love it. It’s always been intense between you two, flirting and touching. 

But it’s been taken up a notch, a new level added to the game that you weren’t aware of. Because when he leans close and lets his lips touch the shell of your ear, you know you’ve entered a whole new ball park. 

“It seems to have worked on you too with the way your thighs are wrapped around my hand right now.” 

————————————————

Steve

It doesn’t matter that it’s been two days, the feel of my hand stuck between her warm thighs while we ate breakfast is all I can think about. The way they closed tighter around me when I leaned in toward her. Fuck. 

I feel like a desperate little puppy nipping at her heels with the way I’ve been trying to spend every waking minute with her. We’ve always been close, but since she moved there’s this ache in my chest that only eases when I get a whiff of her coconut shampoo or when I feel her warm skin on mine. 

She doesn’t even notice the way I watch her, I’d notice. My eyes always find her in a crowded room or on Main Street on a Saturday afternoon. They watch the twitch in her nose when she laughs and the way she subconsciously swipes her hair behind her ears even when it’s already tucked away. 

———————————————

“Soooo, what are we seeing today?” 

One of the things you loved most in the world was going to the movies. Whether it was with someone or by yourself, something about sitting down with strangers and watching a movie on the big screen just made you giddy. The smell of fresh popcorn and the posters lining the walls as you walked to your theater felt like magic. 

And as much as you loved Steve, loved spending time with him, taking him to the movies felt like taking a toddler. It was always a huge ordeal, a hassle even, but you secretly loved it. He’d be on your heels the whole time, stuffing overpriced snacks into his arms and making himself sticky while mixing flavors of soda. 

You could never tell him what you were seeing until you were there or he would pester you about who was in it, the plot, the filming, anything he could think of. It was endearing, how interested he was. 

“Gladiator II.” 

When Steve didn’t immediately say anything you turned around, peanut m&ms, twizzlers, and popcorn spilling out of his hands and some concoction of a diet coke tucked under his arm. 

“You’re gonna make me sit and watch you drool over Pedro and Paul for almost 3 hours, you little freak!” 

A loud laugh bursts out, your hand reaching out to tug on his elbow so he keeps walking towards your theater. “That’s not the only reason we’re here. Besides, don’t act so innocent. I’m sure you’ll be drooling too.” 

He shrugs, his cheeks a little pink and a lopsided smile curving on his face as you make your way to your seats. You’ve no more than sat down before his hand finds yours, fingers looping together and pulling your arm towards him so it’s half on the armrest, half in his lap. It makes your heart race, especially when you glance over to see he’s staring ahead like it’s second nature for the two of you to be touching. 

Which I suppose at this point, it is. 

Normally the crunch of popcorn so close to your ear would have you fidgeting in annoyance, but for some maddening reason you find everything Steve does sweet. The little dribble of butter on the corner of his mouth doesn’t make you cringe, it makes you want to lean over and swipe it away with your thumb…or your tongue. 

And you feel yourself fall a little further in love with him when he leans over and opens his palm to reveal a handful of blue peanut m&m’s for you because he knows that even though they all taste the same, those are your favorite. 

Halfway through the movie you’ve accepted that you’ll have to come see it again, this time on your own—because even though you’ve been looking forward to it for months—your focus is solely on the brunette boy beside you. 

Shoving popcorn down your throat is doing little to distract you from the warmth of his hand or his arm pressed tight against yours. You’ve eaten half his twizzlers just to keep yourself occupied and it doesn’t help that he keeps feeding them to you with a warm smile and a sly wink.

You find yourself watching him out of the corner of your eye the whole time. The wince of his face at the gore, the way his eyes widen during intense scenes, his lips parted just so. God! How does he look so effortlessly pretty watching a fucking movie!

There’s a hitch in your breath you hope he doesn’t notice when he subconsciously squeezes your hand or tugs it closer to him. By the time the end of the movie is nearing, you’re all but squirming in your seat at the sight of his bottom lip swollen and red from how he’s been biting down on it the whole time. 

If it wasn’t clear he was enthralled by this movie, you’d be annoyed with him because surely he’s being this attractive on purpose! He’s doing this just to make your thighs clench and your eyes glaze over at the sight of his arm bulging in his long sleeve shirt when he shifts in his seat. His words from earlier come back to you and you fight off a laugh at the irony that you’re sitting here drooling over him for nearly three hours. 

Tearing your eyes away from him when the credits start to roll is annoyingly difficult, but you try. Somehow willing yourself to act like you just paid any attention to the movie that you made him watch when in reality you only focused on the curve of his nose and the pout on his lips.

“Okay, you win. That was awesome.” The most you manage is a noncommittal hum that only encourages him to keep going, nipping at your heels as you weave your way through spilled popcorn and candy wrappers to the exit. 

“—and I was drooling over them a little bit, but can you blame me? Did you see his abs??” You nod your head and hope that’s enough to satisfy him because now you’re feeling overwhelmed and irritated that you spent the whole movie watching your best friend like a freak AND missed seeing Paul Mescal’s abs. 

“What’s your deal? You’re like…catatonic.” It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped walking and is a few feet behind you. He looks a little amused and you wonder if your face is giving away exactly how you’re feeling right now. 

“I’m good, it was good. I’m glad you liked it, told you I know my stuff.” Plastering on the fakest smile you have, and he knows it too, you spin on your heel and only make it a few steps before his hand on your arm is stopping you. 

You turn to him on instinct and almost gasp at how close he is, chest inches from yours and a smugness in his eyes as he looks down at you. “Is that all?” His voice is deep and maybe even a little dark and you feel thankful your jacket hides the goosebumps that cover your arms at his tone.

“Mhm.” Nodding and avoiding all eye contact you attempt a step back but it’s pointless because for every one you take, he matches it. Until you find yourself tucked into a corner of the movie theater, your back quite literally up against the wall, and Steve Harrington so close that every time he breathes his chest brushes yours. 

“What was your favorite part?”

He’s got you, you both know it. You could give some basic, generic answer and have a pretty good shot of it being right, but Steve knows you better. He knows that after a movie you’re able to give detail about it, and right now you couldn’t do that if your life depended on it. 

You open your mouth to make up some bullshit answer, then close it again. It doesn’t matter though, he’s pushing you further into the wall and leaning down to let his lips touch the shell of your ear before you can comprehend what’s happening. 

“Was it when you were watching me chew on twizzlers? Or when I tugged your hand into my lap and laid it on my thigh? Or was it when I stretched and my shirt rode up a little bit, hm?” 

If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be humiliated—though you’re sure that’ll come later. There’s a pounding in your ears and you know it can’t be normal for your heart to beat this fast. He pulls back just a fraction to look at you and you know it’s written all over your face. Desperation and embarrassment and want. 

“Speak up, baby.” 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, eyes darting between his and the smirk he’s wearing while you try and come up with something—anything to say. But your mind is filled with him. Thoughts of him and his hands and the way he smells and the way his jaw flexes when he chews. The way his thighs fill his jeans so nice it makes your head swim and the way his hair does still curl at the nape of his neck like he knows you love. 

“All of it.” It’s breathless and quiet and if it wasn’t practically on top of you, he wouldn’t have heard it. But he did, loud and clear. You can tell by the way his eyes widen a little bit and that sick smile that you’ve become obsessed with grows. 

He nods at you like he knew that already, and he probably did. Taking your hand in his once again and all but peeling you from the wall. Your frustration grows when he’s quiet on the drive home, humming along to the music and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s quiet when you get out and walk towards your front door. He’s quiet when he presses a sweet, innocent kiss to your cheek before telling you goodnight and walking back to his car. 

Despite an attempt to calm yourself down you’re pretty sure you stomp up the stairs to your room, ripping off your clothes and slipping on one of Steve’s shirts that you stole from him years ago. 

There’s papers from your physics class scattered over your bed from a sad attempt at studying over break and even though you know you won't be able to focus, you sit yourself down in the middle of them again and try to focus on the words staring back at you. 

Anything is better than thinking about Steve and his stupid strawberry lips and his stupid hair that’s so soft and feels so good when it’s threaded through your fingers. Your phone is lying somewhere on the floor, ears perked and waiting for the tell tale buzz of a text or call.

But you hear nothing. Glaring down at your physics notes like they’ve offended you and feeling the urge to burn them or throw them across the room or rip them to shreds for not doing their job in distracting you. There’s no telling how much time has passed, ten minutes or an hour, you have no idea. But when the creak of your window opening has you almost jumping up and running towards it like a dog when their owner gets home from work. 

Acting indifferent is pointless, he saw your true feelings plain as day earlier and you don’t have the energy or the heart to act like you’re not ecstatic at the thought of him coming back for you. 

He pulls himself through with little effort, like he’s done it a thousand times—and he has. He carries himself across your room with confidence and ease and it makes your heart skip a beat. He hasn’t changed clothes and you wonder if he even made it home before he decided to turn back around.

Neither of us say anything, not when he takes my stack of notes and moves them to the desk across the room, not when he kicks off his shoes and climbs on the bed, our knees pressed against each other. I watch him take me in, doing a double take at what I’m wearing before he looks back to me again. 

The tension between us fills the entire room, and even though we both obviously want it, maybe we’re also a little scared of when it finally snaps.

Steve

I think that I’ve been holding my breath since I realized it was my shirt that was hanging off her shoulder and making my mouth water at the thought of biting into the skin where her neck meets her shoulder. If you’re wearing shorts—or anything—underneath, I can’t tell and it’s making my throat dry. 

It only took me just about four minutes of driving before I turned my ass around and all but sped back to her house. I climbed up and through her window without even thinking about it, like it was muscle memory.

“Steve…are you okay?” 

Despite the genuine concern I hear in her voice, I can’t bring myself to move. I can’t imagine how I look right now, jaw dropped a little and eyes trained on my shirt draped over your thighs. My mouth is moving but nothing is coming out and if I look how I feel, it’s like a fish out of water. 

We’ve been to the movie together countless times, but feeling her watch me the whole time, lip taken between her teeth and thighs squeezing together when I would move or grab her hand…it drove me fucking crazy. I love the back and forth between us, love the build up, but having her pressed against me and all but panting in my ear was my fucking breaking point. 

My eyes only leave her when I feel a hand—her hand—on my thigh, the touch burning through my jeans and I know we both feel the way I twitch under her palm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet. Is anyone home?” Her head ducks down to meet my eyes and I manage to huff out a small laugh that makes the furrow of her brows ease a little. 

“Shirt.” For some reason that’s the only word that slips out of my mouth and I curse myself for sounding like such an idiot. Shirt? Really? It only seems to amuse her though, maybe confuse her a little as she looks between my shirt and hers—mine—before she realizes what I mean and blinks up at me sheepishly. 

“Shirt.” Parroting my words back to me, we sit in silence for a few seconds before she continues and I feel my cock twitch in my jeans at the admission. “I know it’s yours it’s just…it’s become a bit of a thing for me I guess. It helps me sleep.” Her shoulders shrug like it’s no big deal but her eyes won’t meet mine anymore. 

The back and forth in my head lasts all but three seconds before I’m reaching forward and fisting the material of my favorite shirt I thought that I had lost years ago and tugging her forward so she’s half on the bed, half in my lap.

She might gasp at the sudden movement but I can’t be sure when all I can hear is a pounding in my ears. Our foreheads are touching, noses rubbing together and mouths open as we sit there. Nobody moves, both of us waiting for the other to push forward. With the way I have the material fisted in my hand, the neck of the shirt is pulled away and a quick glance down shows she’s not wearing a bra under the shirt either. And even though I knew that, her pebbled nipples—from me or the cool air—cause a groan to work its way up my throat and I close my eyes in what must look like agony. 

It is agony. Her smooth skin exposed to me, her warm breath fanning across my face and her eyelashes fluttering as we stay pressed together. I take another quick peek, tongue darting out to swipe across my bottom lip subconsciously and she fucking giggles when she notices. “Perv.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not.” 

“You’re right.”

I’m worried she might be pulling away from me when I see her hands lift, but that worry is washed away when her palm presses to the nape of my neck, bringing her lips so close to mine they brush each other when we breathe. 

“Christ—are you gonna kiss me or not?” She sounds frustrated, almost as frustrated as I feel having her this close to me and not tasting her. 

“I’m thinking about it.” And I have been for years. Probably will for years after this. Fuck I’ll be thinking about kissing her until I die. 

“What’s it gonna take for you to do it?” Despite the edge to her voice, the glimmer in her eye tells me that she’s enjoying this just as much as I am. The back and forth that feels like torture but somehow also feels so fucking good. 

“Beg.” Beg. I’m telling her to beg as if I’m not seconds away from slipping off the bed and to my knees, praying to her or to whoever she wants that I get to touch her or taste her or do whatever the hell she wants. I sound like an asshole, a smug one, and it’s slipping. I’m seconds away from giving her anything she wants. 

Her eyes widen, a glimpse of what I recognize as defiance flashing in them and it makes my heart race a little faster—if that’s possible. But then she glances down at my lips, slick and shiny with spit and practically begging for her and I see her resolve slipping as fast as mine. 

Hand slipping from the nape of my neck, she brings them around and it’s her turn to twist her hands into my shirt, yanking me with force I didn’t know she had and it feels so close, so good as if we’re sharing the same breath. “Please, Steve. I feel like I’m going fucking crazy. I need it. Need you. Please kiss me.” 

It feels like every part of me is on fire, her eyes wide and pleading and I have to hold back a whimper at the sincerity of her voice, like she really does need it. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t push my luck. 

“You sound awfully desperate, princess.” Despite the words coming out of my mouth, it doesn’t come out teasing like I hoped. It comes out in a whine that has me throbbing helplessly. 

My hands are on her thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there to ground me and I choke on a gasp when she moves her hands upward to cup my jaw. “Oh I am but…” Her words trail off, hanging in the air between us and I think I black out when her thumb comes to swipe over my bottom lip, my mouth opening automatically. We’re so close I don’t need to look to see if she’s smirking, I can feel it. 

My lips close around her thumb, humming pathetically when I feel her press down on my tongue. My eyes are closed and I’m positive there will be little bruises from the way my fingertips are grabbing at her thighs. “It seems like you’re just as desperate as me, pretty boy.” 

With a pop she slips her thumb from my mouth and I groan at the loss but before I can say anything she’s closing the distance between us, soft lips meeting my damp ones like our lives depend on it. I moan into her mouth as soon as I get a taste of the cherry lip gloss she must have been wearing earlier today. 

The need to be closer to her is overwhelming, so much so that I startle us both when I push her back, mouths connected the whole time and cradle my hand on the back of her head when she falls against her pillows. Her legs spread for me with ease, thighs wrapped around my hips and pulling me into her. 

“Not the first time you’ve been on top of me like this.” She pulls away just enough to mumble the words before she’s kissing me again, quick and hurried like I would ever go anywhere when I have her underneath me like this. Like I would ever go anywhere at all. 

“And please god don’t let it be the last.” There’s a small chuckle that falls from her lips but it’s cut off with a gasp when I push my hips forward, the bulge in my jeans very apparent. It’s also clear she’s not wearing shorts. I can feel the warmth of her through her flimsy underwear and it makes my head spin. 

There’s a string of spit connecting us when I pull myself off of her the slightest bit, my arms somehow holding me above her even though my whole body feels weak and pliant from her touch. Looking down, I could fucking cry from the sight of her. Swollen lips that are slick with our spit, glossy eyes and a flush that follows the curve of her neck and rests against her cheeks so pretty. 

Without the distraction of her lips, I thrust my hips forward again and watch as her eyes grow wide and her mouth fall open just slightly at the friction. It does little to ease the discomfort but I keep going anyway, feeling her thighs tighten around my hips and the rise and fall of her chest getting quicker. 

She’s making these noises, these little whimpers that make my cock twitch and my arms threaten to give out below me. “I feel like a fucking teenage boy, but it feels too good to stop.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, raspy and desperate and beyond fucked out. 

“I don’t wanna cum without really touching you.” I almost don’t hear her, my eyes roaming her body and landing on where my shirt has ridden up, her inner thighs a little pink from the denim rubbing against them and a wet patch visible on the front of her light green panties that have me taking deep breaths. 

But once I do register her words, my eyes fly up to hers and the air around us is still. There’s a twisting in my belly that has my hips stuttering as I search her face to make sure I heard that right. There’s a second where she glances down between us and before I can even wrap my head around what’s happening, I watch her hand slip, skating down over her tits and then her stomach and slipping under the band of her underwear. 

“What the fuck.” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until she smiles shyly at me as if I can’t see the outline of her hand or the way she’s biting her lip because she’s fucking touching herself right underneath me. I’m like a bobble head with the way I nod back and forth between her face and her covered hand. 

This must be a dream. It has to be. 

I don’t realize I’ve said that out loud either until there’s a pinch to my thigh that has me yelping, a small pout on my lips as I look down at her. She looks amused and also pleased with herself that she’s got me so scattered right now. 

“It is not a dream, Harrington. You are very awake and very much here on top of me making me do all the work.” 

My brain is slowly catching up to what’s happening, the reality of it all smacking me across the face when I feel the brush of her knuckles—through her fucking underwear—against my stomach. 

“You want me to touch you.” There’s no question. I might be telling myself instead of her at this point, I’m not sure. 

“I want you to fuck me, but based on the looks of that—” She makes a pointed glance at my still very prominent bulge that’s pressed against her hip, “you’re gonna need to stretch me out a little first.” 

Maybe it's because I’ve finally realized what’s going on. Maybe it’s the cockiness she has right now that, while very fucking hot, I have the urge to wipe off her face. Maybe it’s a mix of the two, because something in me finally clicks. 

Balancing on one arm, I bring my pointer and middle finger to hover just over her mouth and smile to myself when she glances between them and my face. 

“Get them wet.” 

That mask of confidence slips just enough to make me smirk down at her, eyes round and dark as she hesitates. “I don’t think you need the extra help.” I can see her trying to stay ahead, to keep me on my toes with her smart mouth, and it only makes me harder. 

Cocking my head to the side, I squint my eyes just so, a silent challenge. “And? Get them wet.” It seems to work this time, her lips falling open and head coming forward to take my fingers into her mouth like it’s second nature. She closes her lips around them without me saying anything and I have to fight off a groan when she lulls her tongue, pulling them in deeper. 

I’ve moved off her just enough that when I thrust forward, my hips meet the air. Watching her bob her head on my fingers is maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, thighs twitching and eyes threatening to roll back in my head kind of hot. 

The thought crosses my mind to let her keep going, to see how long she’ll go for but my resolve is slipping and the need to feel her is much more overwhelming. I pull my fingers from her with a pop, ears buzzing at the little whine that slips from her.

“Don’t pout, you did the same to me.” Before she can protest I slip my hand between us, pushing her hand away and teasing my fingers under the band of her underwear. I notice the quick intake of breath even though my eyes are trained elsewhere, her hips moving up just slightly so my hand slips further down. 

Clicking my tongue at her I move my hand back, fingers ghosting over her clit and I smile to myself at the quiet fuck that tumbles out of her mouth. “Looks like you were right, honey. Don’t think I needed the extra help after all.” 

There’s a light shove at my chest and a deep tinge to her cheeks, one arm thrown over to cover her eyes while I take my time feeling every inch of her I can. “Do I have to beg for you to finally just touch me, Harrington?” 

While there’s a part of me that wants to hear it, there’s a bigger part of me that wants to reassure her that I’m just as—if not more—desperate for this, for her. I need her to know that even though I’m an asshole, she has me so tightly wound around her finger it’s embarrassing. 

“I should be the one begging. I’m so fucking lucky you even want me near you, let alone to touch you. Don’t forget that. I’m the desperate one here, so much so it’s kinda pathetic.” 

Instead of letting her say anything I lean forward and give a quick peck to her lips that she chases as I move away, huffing as she falls back against her bed. I take the opportunity to give her what she wants, circling her clit once, twice, three times and basking in the way her hands fist the sheets at her sides. 

Her legs fall open, inviting me in and I notice my bottom lip is swollen and sore from biting down on it while I watch her. The feel of her soaking my hand is etched in my brain, the way she rocks against me to guide me where she wants me, the dimple between her brow from the pinched expression she holds while I ease the ache I caused. 

It’s when I move my fingers lower that we both seem to be holding our breaths, my eyes on her still clothed cunt and her eyes on me as I slip one finger inside, cursing under my breath at how warm and messy she is. 

This time my eyes are trained on her as I curl it forward, her body jolting under me. I do it again just to see the way her neck turns a deeper shade of red and her pleading eyes meet mine. It only takes a few minutes before I slip in another, groaning at the lack of resistance. 

“Look at you, taking it like a champ.” Despite the way she rolls her eyes at me, we both know she can’t hide the way she pulsed around my fingers at the comment. 

She opens her mouth to say something, probably telling me shut up or fuck off, but I cut her off with another curl of my fingers, her hand leaving the sheets and moving to grip my arm instead. “Fuck, Steve.” It’s breathless and needy and has my whole body feeling like it’s on fire. My jeans are tight and the zipper is digging into my cock in a way that has my hand twitching. 

But I keep going. 

“Yeah?” 

“You had the right idea, no way could you fit me without this.” 

“Are you gonna clean up the mess you’re making on my hand?” 

I’ve lost control of my mouth, saying the first thing that comes to my mind while I watch her thighs start to shake, closing around my wrist. Her nails are digging into my arm hard and it’s making me throb. 

“I don’t…I just…I want—”

My thumb on her clit while my fingers pump into her has her turning her head to the side to try and bury her face in the pillows. “Cmon, princess. Tell me what you want.” 

“I don’t wanna cum on your fingers!” It comes out in a whine and my hand stills, pulling out of her slowly and watching her pout up at me. “What do you want then?” I’m enjoying this way too much to just give in now when she’s right on the edge. 

“You know.” I do. 

“I don’t.” Liar. 

“Liar.” 

I smirk at her, finally unzipping my jeans to get an inch of relief and feeling giddy over the hopeful look she casts my way when she notices what I’m doing. 

“Do you really wanna keep going back and forth or do you just want to tell me?” She’s trying to look mean and I shouldn’t laugh but the little scowl she’s giving me is just so fucking adorable that I can’t help it. 

She swats at my arm, hooking her finger in one of the belt loops of my jeans and giving it a small tug while she looks around the room like the answer is written on the walls. “Your cock, I guess.” 

“You guess?” God if I was her I would have smacked the shit out of me by now. 

“I know.” 

“You just want to get into my pants.” I feign offence, a hand on my chest and a fake frown that I know doesn’t conceal the smugness in my eyes.

“Well I’m trying.” That gets a laugh out of me, a loud one that turns into giggles as I lean down to press sloppy kisses over her cheeks and forehead and tip of her nose. 

She leaves a playful nip to my chin as I pull back, letting some stray strands of hair fall against my forehead as I hold my still damp fingers in front of her mouth for the second time. 

“Clean up your mess first.” 

This time without hesitation or back talk, she listens. Her mouth is warm and she’s messy with it as she licks my fingers clean, when she’s satisfied with her work she moves her head back to swipe her tongue against my palm. She cocks a brow at me as if to say “happy?” and I can’t help but nod at her. 

Feeling impatient I push myself off the bed, standing beside it and all but ripping my shirt over my head and tossing it somewhere behind me. I pause only once to nod towards her, “yours too, please” it’s low and muffled but she hears me anyways, lifting up to take off my shirt and I will myself to look away or else i'll never get these pants off. 

Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and boxers, I drag them down, hissing at the slap of my cock against my lower belly, the cool air sending chills over me. He swears he hears you moan but chooses to ignore it in fear of cumming untouched. 

It’s quiet in the room and I feel her gaze burning into me. I take the opportunity to do the same, finally letting myself take all of her in and my knees threaten to buckle at the sight. Her tits are round and full and I swear they’ll fit perfectly in the palm of my hands. Her stomach is soft and I feel the urge to lay down between her thighs and bite into it over and over again. 

“I think you’re drooling.” Her words are quiet and breathless and we both notice the way my cock throbs under her stare. 

“I think you are too.”

Before I can move she’s reaching into her bag on the floor, pulling out a condom and I gape at her when she tugs me forward by grabbing the back of my thigh. She mumbles something under her breath about wanting to put it on but I’m too busy fighting the urge to cum at the touch and fighting the flare of jealousy that rushes through me as she  slips it over me effortlessly. 

Although most of that jealousy is soothed, wiped away when she leans forward to press a kiss to my hip, scattering them across my lower belly and to the other side. 

“How do you want to do this, baby?” 

I watch her glance down at my cock then back up a few times, mulling over in her head and I find it endearing. God I’m a freak. “I think I wanna be on top.” And it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and worship her, the thought of you on top of him enough to have him leaking into the condom already. 

It takes a little moving around but soon he’s sitting with his back flush against the headboard, legs out in front of him with you perched on his thighs. 

“You’re calling the shots, pretty girl. We go at your pace.” I see some of the nerves evaporate and a sense of pride tickles my chest. He likes being the one to soothe you. 

But any thought I had left in my head is gone when she scoots up, hovering over my aching cock with a shyness that has me smearing our lips together so hard our teeth knock against each other. 

A wordless nod is all it takes for her to reach between us and take the base in her hand, a hitch in my breath at the contact. She paints me up and down before the tip catches and I swear a vein in my neck is threatening to pop. 

“Please.” The breathless plea comes from me and she takes mercy on me, lowering herself down so slowly I swear she isn’t moving at all. It’s so much, so good that I don’t know how I’m supposed to hold off at all. 

She has her hands on my shoulders and I tilt my head to leave reassuring kisses to the inside of her wrists the whole time. What could be minutes or hours—he’s not sure he even knows where he is anymore—passes and the next time I manage to peel my eyes open she’s fully seated on me, little beads of sweat on her forehead and a flush on her chest. 

“Are you okay?” My eyes squeeze shut when she huffs a laugh, clenching around me. 

“Don’t let this go to your head, but fuck, you’re big.” 

“Too late.” God I know I must look like the most smug asshole that’s ever walked the planet. 

Raising off me just a little, my whole body tenses when she shifts back down. The pressure, the heat, the slickness is making my head feel fuzzy in the best way possible. I let her find her pace, my hands on her hips helping to guide her and I’m humiliated when I feel that twinge at the base of my spine already. 

“I need—talk to me, please.” 

Pulling her so our chests are flush together, the change in position must be good because she gasps against me, face nuzzled into my neck while I whisper in her ear.

“There it is, yeah? This sweet little cunt is hugging me so tight, no ones ever felt this good, no one ever will.” I have just enough room to thrust up into her, her hands tugging at the curls at the nape of neck when I steady my pace.

“My perfect fucking girl, you know that? Been thinking about this, about you for years.” Her mouth is hanging open, warm breath hitting my throat with every little pant and moan that slips past her lips. 

With every thrust I feel her nipples drag against my chest, her arms wound around my neck so tight it’s almost suffocating—but in the best way. I feel her flutter around me when she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to her forehead from sweat. “I need—d-drawer.” 

I reach over blindly, tearing open her nightstand and pulling things out before I even know what she wants. Still holding onto me she leans over, her hand swatting mine away and finding what she needs in seconds. A small, silver little thing—what I would assume would be a tube of lipstick if I didn't know better. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

There’s a sense of pride at how unashamed she looks, confident in what she wants. I feel lightheaded at how hot she is, knowing what she needs and not being afraid to ask for it. It makes me twitch inside her. 

She cocks a brow at me, probably daring me to say something shitty about her little friend but I just shrug, pulling her back against me and taking the bullet from her hand. “I’ve always been a team player, sweetheart.” 

The buzz of the toy coming to life cuts off the eye roll she was giving me and I push her back so I can see where we’re connected. I’m not prepared for the way she clenches around me when I press it against her clit, my body jolting underneath her and moans so loud our chests rumble coming from the both of us. 

It feels unbearably hot in the room, the smell of sex and sweat filling the space and making it hard to breathe. But that only makes it all feel better. Before I know it she’s back to it, lifting herself off and sliding back down while I hold the toy to her clit. The sound of it and our skin meeting enough to have my thighs twitching under her. 

“Look at you, bouncing on your best friend's cock. This is what you needed, yeah? A good, sweet girl for everyone but me, right?” She’s too out of it to even care right now, nodding helplessly with her hands on my chest. There’s a stinging there that lets me know I’ll have some red marks tomorrow. 

When I start to circle the toy on her clit, she falls forward, our chests pressed together again and her whines more high pitched. “Steve, steve, fuck! M’gonna cum.” 

“Should I let you?” I’m bluffing. There’s no way I’d deny her anything right now. An orgasm, a ring, my car. Anything she wants is hers. 

“You better.” Despite the attitude in her tone, it occurs to me that if I told her no, she wouldn’t. And that thought alone is enough to have me seconds away myself. 

“Go ahead, princess. Be that nice, sweet girl and make a mess of me, please.” It takes one, two, three more thrusts before she’s tightening around me so hard my own orgasm barrels through me before I can stop it. My fingers are digging into her back, hugging her as close to me as possible while she whines and pleads for I don’t know what into my ear. 

Holy shit. She’s all but melted into me, her breathing slowing down while I try to determine if I can even use my legs. Her pants and whines turn into small kisses against the shell of my ear, my throat, and my jaw while I curl my hand into her hair. 

A small hiss escapes when she pulls off me and I should—but don’t—feel bad about the shit eating grin I know I’m wearing when she loops over at me from where she’s plastered to my side. 

“Don’t start, Steve.” 

“Well if I remember correctly, and I definitely do—”

Her hand is covering my mouth, face serious but her eyes can’t hide that she’s at least a little amused by me. “Let’s play the quiet game.” She’s no more than taking her hand off my mouth before I’m speaking. “Funny…weren’t you just practically begging me to talk to you?” 

“Steve!” I’m laughing as I pull her back on top of me, legs twisted together and her head shaking against my chest as she tries not to laugh. I’m pressing kisses into her hair when she pulls off me, walking away from the bed and shooting me a shy smile over her shoulder when she slides the window shut. 

The click of the lock fills the room and and the thud of my pounding heart in my chest fills my ears as she crawls back into bed, snuggling into me and letting her body mold to mine like I’ve dreamed of millions of times over the years. 

We don’t say anything, but we don’t need to. 

——————————————

His breathing evening out lulls me into sleep, my hand curled against his chest and my leg thrown over his, keeping him tucked up under me. 

No matter how many times he proves me wrong, I can’t help but think it’s impossible to love him more. And he always proves me wrong. It’s the kind of love that makes you feel insane because how can I love someone this much?

He’s so good to his core, so attentive and kind to the ones he loves—and those that are nothing but strangers to him. But then he’s cocky and smug and on my last fucking nerve, but still somehow perfect. It’s annoying that someone can be so perfect. 

I think it makes sense that we were friends first, that we got to love and know each other in a different way and just fall into the love we have now. Maybe they were always the same kind of love, just from a different perspective. 

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - prologue

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Your mom called you a late bloomer, and even though you always hated the way she said it, so full of pity and condescension, you couldn’t argue that she was wrong. You were a late bloomer, physically and socially. Your whole childhood and into your teen years, you were painfully insecure, so you tended to hide and shy away from situations that would stretch your comfort zone. You had a good childhood growing up on the ritzy side of the island. But nothing ever felt…complete. You always had this nagging feeling that something was missing, or rather, that you were missing something.

Your older sister, Carter, was the exact opposite of you. She knew who she was from the day she could walk. She developed physically years before you did, even though she was only 18-months your senior. In school, Carter was one grade ahead of you. Everyone knew her, and everyone loved her. She played sports, won class president four years in a row, and was the obsession of every boy in every grade. She was the best known girl on the island, and you were best known as Carter’s sister.

All of these things should’ve been reasons for you to resent her, for the two of you to compete and grow a bitter rivalry, but you were best friends from the start. Carter never made you feel left out or left behind, folding you into her friend group from the time you were kids.

Your mom didn’t have to force Carter to invite you to hang out with her friends, it was always Carter’s idea, dragging you to parties and begging you to keep her company, even though you knew she didn’t need it. She would encourage you to put yourself out there, to leave your books at home and jump in on the fun, assuring you that everyone wanted you around just as much as she did. Carter always saw something in you that you didn’t see in yourself.

From middle school on, Carter casually dated just about every guy in your friend group - Topper, Kelce, several others. She never committed, and they were all fine with having her for just a little bit. There was only one boy she never gave the time of day. The one that she knew was off limits, without you ever really having to tell her, it was just understood.

You had been in love with Rafe Cameron since the moment you first saw him. He was a year above you, in Carter’s grade, and his family lived down the road from yours. You met him on the school bus your first day of kindergarten. 

You were so nervous, your mouth going dry as all the kids on the bus looked at you with judging eyes, but Carter just grabbed your hand and pulled you along with her, plopping you into a vinyl seat a few rows from the back. As soon as you sat down, a pair of blue eyes covered by floppy blond bangs popped up over the seat in front of you.

You noticed him right away, eyes wide as his sudden presence startled you, and your cheeks burned bright red for reasons that you didn’t understand yet. The boy didn’t notice your blushing, his attention fully focused on Carter as he reached his hand over the seat and pulled at her braid.

“Quit it, Rafe!” Carter swatted his hand away. 

The boy, Rafe, smiled, a small dimple creasing his cheek. You weren’t sure why, but you wished more than anything that he was smiling at you instead. After bugging Carter a little longer, his gaze finally shifted over to you and your eyes shot down nervously to your lap.

“Who is that?” Rafe blurted out, talking about but not to you.

You looked at Carter in panic, tongue-tied as you tried to stammer out your name, which you were struggling to remember. Carter noticed your look of desperation, you were so shy and she had gotten used to speaking for you.

“That’s my sister,” Carter said with pride. “She goes to school with us now.”

“Oh, hi,” Rafe said, polite but unimpressed.

“H-hi,” you managed to squeak out, tucking your hair behind your ears, which were burning red.

Rafe disappeared back into his seat. Carter looked at you, noticing how you were nervously biting your lip, your go to tick when you were nervous. She folded her hand protectively in yours and didn’t let go until she dropped you off at your kindergarten classroom.

This is how your interactions with Rafe would go for the rest of elementary school, and middle school, too. He’d ignore you most of the time, tossing you a word or a look here or there, and you’d melt into an absolute puddle everytime. Your tendency to blush at everything he did never went away, meaning everyone knew you loved him.

Your crush was common knowledge among your sister’s friends, hell among the whole school, but no one dared mention it or tease you about it, lest they tempt Carter’s wrath. But they knew, and you knew they knew, and you knew he knew. 

As a freshman, you quickly became first in your class, taking sophomore math and science courses. You ended up in the same first and last period as Rafe, who always struggled in school. After a few weeks of chatting during labs and lending Rafe your notes, you actually started to feel like he had become your friend. He played every sport, and you were right there in the bleachers for every game. Sometimes, when he’d make a great play, he’d look at you in the stands and wink, making your whole body blush, feeling like the most special girl in the world. But then, on his next play, he’d wink at another girl or playfully bow to the cheer squad and it’d make you want to die, suddenly invisible again.

“He’s such a douche,” Carter would nudge you with her elbow, trying to downplay the moment because she knew you were crushed.

You dreaded the day Carter would graduate and leave you at this school alone. You weren’t friends with anyone in your own grade, it seemed the year you were born produced more mean girls and fuck boys than the one before it. Carter would tell you the girls in your grade were just jealous that you got to hang out with her class, but you always thought it was more that they didn’t understand you, and people tend to attack what they don’t understand.

Cassie Bryant was the worst of them. She was the Kook princess of your year, as pretty and popular as anyone could be. From early on, she mastered the art of being mean to you in a way that crushed your spirit but looked totally friendly to everyone else. She’d make backhanded comments like “the way you dress is so…interesting” or “you’re lucky you have so much free time to study, I’m way too busy.” 

She was even worse when Rafe was around. It was like Cassie had a radar for when he was finally giving you some attention, and the second you felt comfortable, she’d be there playfully stealing his baseball hat or pouting at him and saying “Rafey, do you have a J?” Then as she pulled him away, she’d laugh at you and say “it’s okay, we know you’re too cool to smoke with us.” No one saw the smug look she’d shoot you as she hung on his arm. You’d try to explain to Rafe why her words hurt you, but he never understood. He’d just shrug and say “that’s just Cassie, she has no filter.” 

At least Carter believed you. 

“Pick-me bitch,” she’d spit as she watched you watch Cassie steal Rafe away yet again.

You and Rafe saw each other every day. You’d tutor him for tests and help with his homework, you were in advanced classes and he had to retake most of his credits. He’d call you “Einstein” and “smarty pants,” always finding a way to address you without actually using your name. You never thought much of it, convincing yourself that his nicknames were coming from a place of affection. When he wasn’t copying your homework or convincing you to stay up after all of your work was done to help him with his, you found other ways to feel needed. You’d bring him lunch from his favorite spot when he got in-school suspension, bake him brownies before his big games, and give him rides to all his practices since his dad took away his truck so often. 

Every afternoon at 4:45, you’d stop by the gas station across from your school and get a Redbull and protein bar for him, and a bag of your favorite candy for yourself. You’d park by the field house, waiting in your car with his snacks for sometimes a half-an-hour before he decided to stop messing around with his friends and head out. When you’d give him his snack, he’d kiss your cheek and say, “thanks, kid.” Even though it wasn’t really meant to be romantic, you lived for those moments when you could pretend you were his girlfriend, smiling at the way the cheerleaders eyed your car judgmentally when you pulled out of the lot with the Rafe Cameron in your passenger seat.

“He’s just using you,” Carter would say when you got home.

“No he’s not,” you��d shrug, “we’re friends.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. 

Even if Rafe broke your heart everyday, you were fine with it as long as he put it back together the next with some small gesture that made you hope…maybe someday.

Then, in the spring semester of your junior year, his senior year, you were parked outside the field house like usual after one of his baseball practices. You saw his figure emerge from the brick building, his hair wet and clinging to his forehead. You smiled wildly, your heart fluttering every time you saw him, even after all these years. You got his snacks out and set them on the seat for him, ready for your daily thank you.

But he didn’t head for your car like usual, instead he veered toward the group of cheerleaders gathered on the other side of the lot. You frowned, eyes furrowed as you watched him approach the gaggle of girls. When he reached them, he grabbed one of their hands and pulled her out of the huddle. Your heart sank when you realized who it was.

Cassie giggled as Rafe pulled her toward him, the other girls in the circle laughing and catcalling toward them. Clearly everyone in this parking lot knew something you didn’t.

And then he kissed her. 

Rafe pulled away from the kiss, hands still on Cassie’s waist, and watched with confusion as your car peeled out of the parking lot without him.

You didn’t speak to him the whole next week, but he was completely oblivious to your heartbreak, still texting you as if nothing ever happened. 

Thursday, March 23rd

Hey kid, u coming to my game tomorrow? u know I need my good luck charm Read 11:03 pm

Sunday, March 26th

Babyyyyy in drvnk at top’s pick me upppp? :(  Read 2:17 am

 

Tuesday, March 28th

yo dude u got the hw packet done for precal? I’m screwed for tomorrow Read 9:56 pm

You’d stare at the messages for a long time before shoving your phone in your desk drawer or turning it off all together, but always made sure to open the message so he’d know you read it. 

Then you’d cry yourself to sleep. 

Carter would sit in your bed each night, rubbing your back comfortingly, pissed that she couldn’t do more to save you from this hurt, muttering under her breath about how she was gonna kick his ass.

After only a week of unreturned texts and trying to get your attention at school with no luck, Rafe went silent. You thought you’d make him sweat for a few weeks before forgiving him, enough time to show you he cared that you weren’t speaking, but then he did the exact opposite.

“It’s for the best,” Carter tried to convince you. 

Maybe she was right. After you no longer had Rafe in your life, you threw yourself into your schoolwork. You had always been smart, but now that you were more focused on yourself and not him, you were acing every class, top of the honor roll. 

The gang all went their separate ways after graduation. Rafe to UNC Chapel Hill, Carter to Duke, Topper and Kelce to U of Florida. With your sister and her friends gone, you spent senior year alone, but opened acceptance letter after acceptance letter. Rafe faded slowly from your mind as you dreamt out your future. 

Eventually you got the letter you were waiting for, your dream school. The day before you left the island, you promised yourself you wouldn’t miss out on the college experience the way you missed out in high school. 

Then, hundreds of miles away from home, something miraculous happened. Far from the memories of your lonely childhood and Rafe Cameron, you bloomed. You made friends early on, feeling like you may have finally found your people in academia. You picked up intramural sports, now you were the one scoring goals and spiking balls and waving smugly to all your friends in the stands. You dated, and you dated. Never settling on one guy too long, having too much fun to tie yourself down.

Things just clicked so much easier, no longer living in your sister’s shadow, far enough away from all the shy girl stereotypes to explore and figure out who you were on your own terms. And slowly, all thoughts of Rafe Cameron faded from your mind. You only thought of him when he made cameos in your dreams, the high school nightmare variety - late to class, showing up naked on accident, a test you forgot to study for, and Rafe in the parking lot kissing Cassie Bryant. You’d wake up cursing your subconscious and feel off for about half a day, before your fast paced routine in your new city erased his face from your mind again.

You changed physically, too. Though you didn’t really feel any different, Carter would make comments every time you came home for a holiday or event.

“Damn, bitch,” she’d say, looking you up and down and wolf-whistling. 

“Shut up,” you’d roll your eyes, feigning annoyance when it really made your confidence soar. 

She’s just being a supportive sister, you’d tell yourself, clinging to the same insecurity you’d had your whole life. But she wasn’t the only one, boys noticed you now a way they never used to. You hooked up with enough guys to start to feel comfortable with the attention, but whenever you’d draw eyes at college parties or lecture halls, your cheeks would still go bright red, never quite figuring out how to turn off that particular mannerism.

You were almost done with your third year, a plane ticket to head back to North Carolina for Carter’s graduation already purchased. One night, as she showed you options for her graduation outfit on Facetime, she casually threw out, “some of us from Kildare are going to Miami to celebrate graduation.”

“Oh?” You said, not really listening, going over a term paper with a red pen for the fifth time.

“You should come…” she was nervous, trying to say it casually enough that maybe you might not overthink it and just say yes.

“Wait sorry, come where?” You put down your pen and actually looked at the screen, knowing she hated when you were listening without really listening like this.

“Miami,” she repeated. “A few of us are getting an Airbnb on the beach for a week after finals.”

“Who’s us?” You asked. 

“Oh y’know,” she started listing names of her old friends, a lot more people than you expected, your throat tightening with a social anxiety you hadn’t felt in years at thought of being in a room with that many people from high school. “...Jack, Maddie, Sabrina. Topper and Kelce obviously,” she continued, at least ten names deep, going quiet for a moment before adding “...and Rafe.”

“No.” you said simply, propping the phone back up and returning to your paper.

“Oh, come onnnn,” she whined, not at all surprised by your response. “It’s been four years, and you’re thriving now! You can just pretend he’s not there.”

“Yes, exactly,” you snarked at her. “Just as I’m finally thriving, you want me to spend a week stuck in a house with Rafe Cameron. That makes sense.”

“You and I will hang out on the beach the whole time, we don’t even have to talk to him,” she reasoned. “And he can just sit in the corner and look at your hot body and feel like shit for being such a dick to you in high school.”

You laughed a little despite yourself. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that wished he could see you now. Even though you stayed away from Kildare as much as possible and barely went out when you were home, terrified of running into him, you also dreamt of a time you would see him again. New look, new confidence, new you. 

“Hah! You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Carter said smugly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you said, turning back to your schoolwork.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” she cheered victoriously.

“Or you can take it as a maybe, which is what it is,” you corrected her.

“Pleaseeee?” She begged. “It’s my graduation trip! And I don’t want to be there without you.”

You sighed deeply, weighing all of the pros and cons as you bit your lip. Carter had always been there for you, and if it was so important to her that you make this trip, it was really the least you could do. Plus, she was going abroad for grad school in just a few weeks, and you knew it would be your last chance to spend time with her for a while.

“Fine…I’ll come,” you finally conceded. 

“Yay!” Carter yelped. “Best trip ever!”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Best trip ever.”

(Chapter 1)

a/n: hi, i'm nat and i've struggled with body image and anxiety my whole life and I have been the victim of countless unrequited loves, particularly in my teen years, though the sting never really goes away. writing this series has been really personal to me so far, and i'm having a great time. I hope you like it. ♡

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Not Future... Now

MDNI 18+ | Imagine Joe seeing you holding someone’s baby and losing all sense of mind at the thought that maybe, just maybe, that baby could be his one day.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: releasing some old drafts, enjoy babe. also not proofread :)

Main Masterlist

⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅ .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅. ୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧

Joe’s been having a certain recurring thought lately. It shows up in his dreams or when he’s in the gym or on the field. He’s tried to brush it off; it’s too vulgar to say out loud, but it won’t go away. He felt ashamed for it always being on his mind, especially at work- if any of the guys knew what he was thinking about at practice, he would probably quit and never show his face again. But at the same time, it feels so natural for him to think about it. Especially right now.

Nothing else was on his mind while you were cuddled up against him, watching some random action movie on Netflix. He stopped focusing on the screen the second you pushed your ass onto his crotch to ‘get comfy,’ if anything, you knew exactly what was on his mind and were torturing him for fun. 

But you were as oblivious as you could be, eyes glued to the TV screen. 

Oblivious to how easy it would be for him to just push your silk shorts off the swell of your fat cheek, move the elastic barrier of your cute panties to the side and slide his cock through your plump folds. 

Oh, what he’d do to hear that first shocked gasp turn into a sweet, inevitable moan as you take him in deeper. You would try to question the abrupt action only to sink further into his chest and succumb to the pleasure he’s giving you until ropes of his cum fill your womb.

Instead, he settles the thoughts in his mind and tries to refocus his mind on the car chase in front of him instead of the sweet scent of your vanilla perfume. The sultry scent he can’t live without, something so you that bakeries and cafes remind him of the woman he gets to come home to every day. But there’s something so satisfying about that scent on your soft brown skin that has him clutching every part of your body he can get his hands on. Your thick thighs that look beautiful around him, that delectable neck his head fits perfectly in, and his current favorite: the soft layer of fat on your lower belly. Ever since he started having those dreams, he hasn’t taken his hands off your small pooch. Unconsciously, he’ll caress your tummy for as long as you let him. 

He could tell you didn’t like it at first. He understood you were feeling self-conscious about it, so he reassured you that he adored every part of your body the same during a long, hot love-making session. Now, you don’t give him a second look when his hands start roaming from your waist down. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

After spending all day caring for other people’s kids as a nanny, you eagerly joined your boyfriend of 2 years on the couch for a mandatory cuddle session. You put on the movie Baby Driver and relaxed into Joey’s chest as his arms pulled you closer. 

About halfway through the movie, his hands started moving down into the waistband of your shorts and settled on your tummy. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing he was as relaxed as you were. Recently, this has been his favorite resting position, with you against his chest and him caressing your belly. It took you a while to fully embrace your figure, but if it weren’t for Joey, you wouldn’t realize just how much there was to love about it. He loved every dimple and roll and made sure you did, too.

However, there was something different about the way his hands touched you. Most of the time, he liked to lightly squeeze and massage the fat, which was very nice when it was that time of the month. But right now, he was just slowly rubbing on it. No light tugs and squishes, no drawing random shapes or doodles on the skin, just rubbing his hand over it. 

“Joey…” You whisper, trying to look back at him but failing thanks to his face lying cozy in your neck.

“Mhm?” He mumbles softly. 

“What are you doing?” 

You feel a grin grow on his lips. “What are you doing?” 

Rolling your eyes, you place a hand on his, seizing the motions on your stomach. “I asked you first.”

He hums and pecks up your neck to your ear. “I’m thinking.” His voice makes you shiver then he begins to kiss and suck on the sweet spot behind your lobe.

“Wha-what are you thinking about?” 

A light chuckle vibrates through his lips as he resumes the light touches on your stomach. “You.” 

“What about me? I’m right here.” You giggle as he shoves his face back in the crook of your neck.

“You really wanna know?” His voice’s so muffled you can barely understand him.

You shuffle your body so you’re underneath him and can finally see his sweet blue eyes. “Yes, I wanna know.”

He smirked and used one hand to stabilize himself above you, then leaned down to your lips. “You asked for it.” He whispers with a peck on your lips. Then he shifts down and plants open-mouth kisses on your collarbone. 

“I’ve been thinking about our future-

He lifts on his knees and unbuttons your silk top.

“About what’s next for you and me-

Bring his lips back down and suck minor bruises from your sternum to your belly button, all while keeping his eyes on your face. “Mmmm, Joey.”

“And I’m reminded of it every day when you send me pictures of you at work.” He growls, coming up to press a deep kiss on your lips. He barely gives you time to react before pulling away to suck on your sweet spot again. “I wanna get you pregnant.”

“What?” You moan, half in surprise and half in pleasure. 

“Can’t stop thinking about you full of me, walking around showing everyone who you belong to. Can’t you see it, baby?” He pulls your leg around his waist and lays his full weight down on you. 

“Joe.” Your eyes widen as your groins rub against each other, his bulge now very apparent. “Holy fuck- have you been...

“Hard this entire time? No.” He pauses to suck more bruises onto your chest. “Just can’t help it, baby. I have this stunning woman with a beautiful body just waiting for me to knock her up.” 

“Oh.” You moan as he pulls the cups of your bra down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. “Joey, you can’t just say that.”

His flat tongue licking up your sensitive peaks makes your hips jolt up, and hands pull at his hair.  

“Fuck baby, you can’t do that.” He groans, grinding his hips against yours. He switches over to your other nipple with his tongue and tugs and twists with his hand to give both stimulation. Your breaths quicken as your moans get louder, your panties being soaked with your arousal. He gives your sensitive nipple one last harsh suck, then kisses back up to your lips. 

“You don’t know what you do to me, baby. Y’know how much you mean to me? Y’know how much I can depend on you?” He mumbles between kisses. Your hips and lips continue to mingle until you abruptly push him up, making his arms hold his weight hovering over you. 

“What did you say?”

Making him horny and sappy is one thing, but the last one has nothing to do with you. 

“Joe, what do you mean you can depend on me?” Sure, it's a far-fetched theory, but suddenly, he connects his desire to have a child with how his team is currently doing. But it’s a theory nonetheless.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He sighs, dropping his head to kiss yours. Dismissal and Ignorance.

“Are you trying to get me pregnant so you have someone always to support you and never disappoint you, unlike your team?” You question, dodging the way he dips down to your neck.

He groans. “Y/n, are fucking serious right now?” There’s practically no space between your wide eyes and his scrunched face.

“I’m not having a baby with you just because your defense sucks.” 

His face morphs into a smirk while he licks his lips. Then he leans into your ear. “No, you’re gonna have my baby because you like to walk around here in tiny ass shorts while talking about other peoples’ kids. I want you to have my baby because I can’t go one minute without thinking about how goddamn gorgeous you’d look knocked up, waddling around my house.” He pronounces each word as husky and breathily as the last, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I’m going to get you pregnant because you’re mine, and nothing makes me hornier than the thought of my girl having my kid. Anything else you wanna say, princess?”  He says, sliding your shorts off and throwing your fallen leg over his waist. 

“N-no!” You choke out as his finger traces your sopping folds.

“No, what?” He teases your entrance while his lustful, blown-out pupils watch your silent whimpers.

“No daddy, I need you.” Joe wastes no time removing his sweats and hooking your legs around him.

“Yea? Good, I need to feel you around my cock right now.” He groans, sucking in a breath as his dick glides against your sopping folds.

"Joey?" You take his face in your hands, pulling him down.

"Yeah, gorgeous." He pecks your forehead, gazing into your pretty lustfilled eyes.

Leaning up to peck his swollen lips, you whispered softly. "Please breed me."

His eyes widened, "Jesus Christ, woman," then he sunk into you.

[pxningfo0l]

It's a reoccurring pattern with Steve, getting come out to and then instantly shitting on the person's taste in people.

Robin comes out to him and tells him she liked Tammy 'The Muppet' Thompson and Steve immediately jumps onto making fun of her because obviously, he will. She sounds like a goddamn muppet! Robin may deny it, but he knows she knows he's right. And he never lets her forget it.

After the Byers family moves back to Hawkins, Steve gets closer to the Byer-Hopper twins (Not blood related twins, but with how similar they are they might as well be). He takes note of the way Will carries himself, the way he stares at Micheal Asshole Wheeler of all people when he thinks no one is looking.

The kid doesn't come out that quickly, so with Robin's advice, Steve takes his time, making it known how okay he was with Will's sexuality, even if he did have standards low enough to beat Robin's terrible Tammy Thompson taste (He says this to her and she reacts as predictably as ever- by throwing something at him).

When Will does come out to him, Steve makes sure he only freezes for a literal second, not wanting the kid to panic like he'd seen Robin do back then. Of course, as soon as he's done comforting and reassuring the kid that he's completely fine with him being gay, he immediately jumps onto making fun of his terrible crush on Mike, finding great joy in the bright blush burning the teen's face.

The next time someone comes out to him, he's more caught off guard than he was with Robin.

Not because he was shocked that Eddie liked guys, no. He might be stereotyping a little, but no straight guy goes that close to another man and calls him Big Boy all low and seductively, a teasing grin curling his lips, a glint in his eyes-

You get the point.

The reason why he's shocked is because Eddie comes out to him, and when Steve asks about crushes, Eddie says,

"Oh, I had the worst crush on you in high school."

Steve sits there, his jaw practically on the ground. The way Eddie says it, all casual, not caring about the consequences or the effect it has on Steve.

"Wh- I- Me?" He stammered out, incredulous. "Dude, I was the biggest asshole back then!"

Eddie chuckles at that, a low sound that sends further heat into Steve's already flushed body. "The me back then did not give a shit, let me tell you that man." He turns to Steve then, giving him a slow look, a gaze more like, and smirks. "I certainly understood why the ladies were so desperate for you and your gorgeous locks."

His heart is pounding like crazy, an audible thump in his ears. Thoughts race in his head, one after the other, all jumbled up until what comes out of Steve's mouth next is,

"So what, you've got a thing for douchebags? Seriously?"

Eddie shoots him another look, more confused than ever. "What?"

"You heard me," Steve says, feeling the next words come out of his mouth like a waterfall. "I was a huge asshole in high school dude. How the hell did you have a crush on me back then? Did you seriously have no standards? You'd really stoop that low just because I had nice hair? I have good hair, and I'm nice now! What's stopping you from-"

Steve cuts himself off with an audible clack of his teeth, a sound that most often comes from Robin when she shuts herself up.

Goddamnit Robin.

Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, the cigarette between his fingers burning away. Steve wants to watch the smoke curl away, but he's too transfixed on Eddie's doe-like gaze.

Then Eddie's features smooth over, a terrible, terrible grin curling its way onto his lips, deepening that dimple on his cheeks. He leans forward eyes lidded just slightly, and says,

"What's stopping me from what, sweetheart?"

[shiorihyugawrites]

Velvet Heat (No Regrets!Levi x Reader Oneshot)

Before Levi Ackerman ever wore a uniform, he was the Underground’s most dangerous man���untouchable, cold, and utterly lethal. But one night at a lounge, a bold little dancer climbs into his lap with a smirk that dares him to lose control. And Levi? He takes the challenge personally.

He doesn’t go easy. And you don’t want him to.

18 + Only | Minors Do Not Interact

The air in the lounge was thick with smoke, sweat, perfume, and whispered sins.

A low hum of conversation murmured beneath the seductive melody of piano and strings, the notes floating like silk through the haze. Candlelight flickered along polished brass railings and red velvet drapes, casting golden shadows across the faces of criminals, smugglers, and nobility who liked to pretend they weren’t slumming in the filth of the underground. But even here—in a city without sunlight—there were stars.

One star, in particular.

Levi Ackerman leaned back in the worn leather booth in the farthest corner, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but those who knew him understood the truth: he was always ready to kill.

The infamous Levi. The underground's deadliest blade.

People whispered his name with fear, respect, and jealousy. A man who slit throats like it was second nature. A ghost with knives for hands and no soul to speak of. And tonight, he was here for one reason:

To see you.

“Oi, is this really worth the trip?” he muttered to Furlan without turning his head. “She better not be just another girl in fishnets pretending to be a dancer.”

Furlan chuckled softly. “She’s not just a girl. She’s a fucking legend down here.”

“Tch.” Levi’s sharp grey eyes flicked to the stage as the house lights dimmed. “We'll see about that.”

And then… She stepped out.

You.

Wrapped in crimson sheer silk that shimmered with every sway of your hips. The lingerie dress clung to your curves like it had been painted on, exposing your legs, waist, and just enough cleavage to tempt death itself. Thin straps slid off your shoulders like you didn’t care who watched.

The entire room silenced.

Your hair spilled down your back, and your face—gods, your face—looked like it had been sculpted by an artist with a love for sin. Lips painted scarlet. Eyes laced with mischief. A smile with dimples so deep it made hardened criminals shift in their seats.

But Levi didn’t shift. He stared. Unblinking.

The music started—slow, sensual. You danced, your body twirling through the stage like a blade of light. Effortless. High. Ethereal. 

Levi’s jaw clenched.

You didn’t look at him right away.

You twirled. Danced. Let your body become the music. Graceful, fluid, seductive. Like a fairy dipped in wine and wicked thoughts. Every man in the room leaned forward like moths drawn to flame.

Then your eyes locked with his.

You didn’t smile.

You smirked.

And Levi, that deadly bastard, raised a brow. Just one. Like a challenge.

You accepted.

Your bare feet padded silently across the stage and down the short set of velvet-covered stairs. Each sway of your hips more deliberate now. Every movement calculated. A predator in sheer red lace. You crossed the room slowly, a siren weaving her spell.

Levi didn’t look away.

He never did.

When you reached his table, you climbed onto it—graceful as a cat—and straddled his lap with your thighs spread wide over his, ignoring the stunned gasps and growls of envy from the crowd.

Furlan nearly dropped his drink.

Levi didn’t move.

You leaned in close, your voice a soft, wicked purr near his ear.

“You look bored.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. “You’re bold.”

“And you’re beautiful,” you whispered, dragging a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “I don’t usually do this. But I think I’ll make an exception.”

You kissed his cheek slowly, deliberately, your red lips smearing against the sharp angle of his face.

A perfect lipstick mark.

He caught your wrist just as you started to pull away. His grip was strong—but not cruel.

“I don’t like games,” he said flatly.

You smirked, twisting your wrist free with a dancer’s finesse. “Then follow me. Let me show you how I play.”

You gently grabbed his hand and lead him towards the back on the lounge. The private room was lit only by a chandelier of dying candles. Crimson velvet lined the walls and chaise lounge. A soft fur rug lay beneath your feet. You locked the door with a click.

Levi stood just inside, silent.

You didn’t speak.

You just danced.

Slow. Sinful. Seduction distilled. Your hips rolled, your bare feet gliding over the rug. The sheer silk flowed around you like mist. Your hands slid over your own curves, drawing his attention to your waist, your thighs, your breasts—everything men dreamed about and never touched.

He watched. Breathing steady. Face unreadable.

But you saw it in his eyes. Hunger.

You turned your back to him, letting the red silk slip down your arms. You looked over your shoulder, lips parted, breath shallow.

“Touch me,” you whispered.

He was on you in an instant.

Levi’s mouth crushed yours, his kiss rough and greedy. You answered with a moan, throwing your arms around his neck. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into flesh. You kissed him deeper—tongue, teeth, passion. You sucked on his bottom lip, then licked the corner of his mouth just to tease him.

He growled.

You laughed breathlessly and pushed him toward the chaise. He let you.

You climbed into his lap again, kissing down his throat, nibbling just beneath his jaw. His pulse jumped under your tongue.

“You gonna kill me?” you teased, voice soft as silk.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, dragging his lips along your collarbone. “Not unless you ask real nice.”

You rolled your hips over his, slow and deliberate. You felt him—hard beneath you, the tension in his muscles coiled tight.

“I’m sure you’ve killed for less,” you whispered.

He gripped your ass with both hands, pulling you tighter against him. “Don’t tempt me.”

But you did.

Every sway. Every sigh. Every flicker of your eyes as you stripped for him, peeling away the last sheer layer of your lingerie, baring your flawless skin beneath flickering candlelight.

You were a goddess made flesh.

And he worshipped you in silence—with his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against yours like he was starved.

You kissed again—slow this time. Tender. Deep.

You guided him down onto the chaise, your body hovering over his. Hair cascading around your face, your dimples deepening as you smiled down at him with a sultry glint in your eye.

You had him.

Levi’s cold, calculating gaze never left yours, even as you straddled him like you owned him—like you’d always meant to. His body was deceptively still beneath yours, but you could feel the tension in him. Like a beast barely leashed. Like something wild that hadn’t decided yet if it wanted to devour you or let you keep teasing.

He stared you down, a predator in human form.

And you… you stared right back.

Your smirk was slow, sultry, teasing.

Daring.

Your hands moved with purpose, curling around the delicate straps of your sheer red lingerie and sliding them off your shoulders, letting the fabric drift down, inch by inch. His gaze didn’t waver—yet. He was trying to prove something. Maybe to you. Maybe to himself.

But then—

The silk slipped low enough to reveal your breasts, and that was when he broke.

His eyes flickered downward.

Just for a heartbeat.

Just long enough for you to feel the victory pulse like electricity through your veins.

You didn’t say a word. You reached for his hands, rough and calloused from years of violence, and guided them to your chest. You pressed them to your bare skin, slowly… deliberately.

He didn’t resist.

Didn’t even blink.

His fingers curled, squeezing your breasts with slow, deliberate pressure, thumbs brushing over your nipples like he was testing the texture. His jaw tensed, nostrils flared. Still quiet. Still unreadable.

But his hands stayed.

You began to move again—hips rolling, body winding. A private dance made just for him. You moved with purpose, grinding slowly, sensually, until you could feel it—him. The hard, growing bulge beneath you.

You felt him twitch through his pants, and your hips rocked harder, more confidently, feeding the heat between you. The air was thick with your breath, the scent of candle wax, and the sharp buzz of Levi’s restraint fraying at the edges.

Then, without warning, you leaned forward and kissed him.

He didn’t pull away.

His lips were dry but warm. Soft but firm. You moaned against him, deepening the kiss. His hand slid from your breast to your lower back, gripping you tighter, anchoring you against him as he kissed you back—slow, hungry, like he had been holding back for too long.

And then, in a blink—he moved.

His grip on your waist tightened, and before you could react, he shifted his weight and flipped you beneath him in one smooth motion. You let out a small gasp as your back hit the velvet chaise, his body now hovering above yours, knees planted on either side of your hips.

His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his body pressed flush to yours, hard and unrelenting.

He was fast.

Strong.

Dangerous.

And yet… he wasn’t hurting you.

His face hovered inches from yours, eyes dark and stormy, studying you like you were something fragile—something rare.

“You think you’re in control?” His voice was low, rasping, a growl dragged over gravel.

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look away.

Instead, you tilted your head, smirking again, breath hot against his lips. “Aren’t I?”

Something flickered in his eyes. Lust. Annoyance. Admiration.

“You’re bold,” he muttered, voice thick. “Too bold.”

“And you’re hard,” you whispered, shifting your hips beneath him just enough to remind him exactly where your body met his.

His jaw clenched again. His hands slid down from your wrists, dragging slowly over your arms, until they settled at your sides. His fingertips dug into your hips like he was trying to decide if he wanted to leave bruises.

He leaned closer. His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You shivered, heart racing.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” you whispered.

He exhaled slowly, his breath hot on your neck, and you felt the smallest shudder run through him.

“I don’t go easy.”

“I don’t want easy.”

Levi pulled back just enough to look at you again. His hair hung slightly in his face, the dim candlelight catching on the sharp angles of his jaw. His eyes were dangerous—full of promises you weren’t sure you were ready for, but completely unwilling to turn down.

One hand rose to cup your cheek, thumb brushing just under your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he said quietly.

You nipped at his thumb with your teeth and grinned.

“Then make it worth it.”

His mouth was on yours before the last word left your lips—devouring, dominating, taking. You moaned into the kiss, your hands fisting in the back of his shirt as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He pressed his hips into yours, grinding slowly, deliberately, making you feel every inch of his arousal through the thin fabric between you. You gasped, arching into him, your fingers clawing at his back.

He broke the kiss with a low curse, staring down at you again like he was about to commit a crime.

And in that moment, you were more than willing to be his next sin..

You were flushed, lips parted, body trembling beneath his weight. You couldn’t move, not with the way he pinned you down with nothing but his presence, his hands, his voice.

And then—

He moved lower.

His hand slipped between your thighs.

You gasped, hips twitching, but Levi didn’t let up. He used two fingers to push aside your lingerie underwear—slowly, carefully, like he was unwrapping a gift. His touch was rough, calloused, but his movements were maddeningly gentle, teasing your folds with deliberate strokes.

“Shit…” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re soaking through already.”

You whimpered. “Levi—”

He slipped one finger between your slick folds and dragged it through your heat, smearing it across your clit with a slow, lazy circle. You bucked beneath him, but he pressed his forearm against your hips, holding you still.

“You wanted this, remember?” he said, tone dark and smooth. “Climbed into my lap like a little slut... dressed like that... teasing me in front of a whole damn room.”

You gasped at the vulgarity of it—but gods, you liked it. Too much.

“I bet you thought I’d be rough right away. Thought I’d rip your panties off and fuck you into the chaise.” His voice dropped lower, lips brushing your ear. “But that’s not how this works.”

And then he slid one finger inside you.

Your back arched as the sensation bloomed white-hot. He watched you, expression unreadable except for the way his eyes darkened, flicking down to watch your body take him in.

“You’re tight,” he growled, slipping in another finger beside the first. “Hot. Fuck.”

He curled them inside you, rubbing against the spot that made your thighs tremble. Your legs tried to close, but he shoved them open with his knee, never once looking away.

“Keep ‘em open,” he ordered, voice like gravel and smoke. “Don’t make me tie you down.”

Your walls clenched around his fingers, and his smirk grew wicked.

“Yeah, I felt that.”

He started moving his fingers—slow at first, then faster, deeper. You cried out, breath catching, body bucking under the force of each thrust. He added pressure with his thumb against your clit, circling it in time with his pumping fingers.

You were unraveling.

Your hand flew to the cushion behind you, the other gripping his shoulder as you moaned his name, loud and broken. He leaned down, lips brushing your neck, whispering filth in your ear.

“You love this, don’t you? Me inside you like this... fingers deep, pussy gripping me like it’s desperate.” He chuckled darkly. “You’re gonna cum already? That easy?”

You were so close. So fucking close.

And then—

He stopped.

You let out a broken cry, hips chasing his fingers. “No—! Why did you stop—?”

“Because I can.” His tone was low and cruel, but his eyes sparkled with lust. “I told you—I don’t go easy.”

Before you could protest, he moved down between your thighs, dragging your underwear fully off with his teeth. He tossed it somewhere behind him and stared at your dripping core like it was the most decadent thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he muttered. “Look at this—fuck.”

His breath ghosted over your heat, and then—his tongue was on you. Lapping. Sucking. Devouring. You cried out, thighs trying to close around his head, but his hands held you wide open as he feasted on you like he was starving.

You were shaking. Writhing.

His mouth was relentless. Every flick of his tongue pushed you higher. His teeth grazed your clit just enough to make your vision blur. Then, without warning, he slid his fingers back inside, curling them with precision while his tongue circled your clit.

You screamed.

“That’s it,” he murmured into you. “Make those pretty sounds. Let the whole fucking Lounge know who’s got you like this.”

You were right at the edge. Your walls clenched, legs trembling. The orgasm crept up your spine, white-hot, merciless.

But just as you were about to fall—

He stopped. Again.

“No—Levi! Please!”

He sat up slowly, licking your arousal off his fingers with maddening calm. “Goddamn, you taste good.”

You were panting, tears stinging your eyes from the sheer denial.

“You’re cruel,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” He leaned over you, dragging the head of his cock along your folds through his pants, just enough pressure to make you shudder.

“Then beg for it.”

You blinked up at him, breath hitching.

“Beg for what?”

“Everything,” he growled, gripping your jaw with one hand. “Beg me to ruin you.”

Your body was shaking. Slick with sweat and arousal, skin flushed, lips swollen from his kisses and your own bitten-back screams. The chaise lounge beneath you was damp with your arousal—your thighs soaked, your core pulsing and aching from the relentless teasing.

Levi leaned over you again, his voice low and cruel in your ear.

“Dripping all over the fucking chaise,” he muttered, running his fingers along the mess you were leaving. “You’re gonna clean that, brat?”

You whimpered, nearly sobbing. “Please—please, Levi, I can’t—”

“You can.” He grabbed your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. “You’re gonna take everything I give you.”

He pulled back and stood for a moment. You thought—hoped—he might finally give you what you needed.

Instead, he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You're so desperate. That little act back on the floor—straddling me like a bitch in heat—this is what you wanted, right?”

You were too dazed to answer, but your body betrayed you, arching and trembling in need. That smirk on his lips deepened as he ran a hand down your spine.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

You obeyed—barely—your legs wobbling as you turned and braced yourself on all fours atop the chaise. He spread your knees wider with a rough hand, his other gripping your hip like a vice.

He gave you no warning. No softness.

Just a rough, deep thrust that stole the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck!” you gasped, crying out as he filled you all at once.

“Quiet,” he growled, leaning over your back, teeth grazing your shoulder. “You don’t get to scream unless I say you can.”

He pulled back and slammed into you again—harder. Your eyes rolled back.

“I should’ve fucked you on that stage in front of everyone,” he hissed, pistoning his hips. “Let them all see what kind of filthy little thing you are.”

You were crying, moaning, unable to stop the way your hips rocked back to meet his every thrust.

But when you squirmed too much, trying to wriggle out of the overwhelming pressure and pleasure, he snarled.

“Can’t even stay still.”

In one brutal motion, he yanked his belt from his pants and grabbed your wrists. Before you could process it, he’d looped the leather around them and tied you up—wrists bound behind your back like a plaything.

“Nowhere to run now, yeah?” he breathed against your ear.

He gripped the end of the belt for leverage—and used it.

He fucked you.

Hard. Unrelenting. Brutal.

The slapping sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, mingling with your choked sobs of pleasure and his ragged breathing.

Your body rocked forward with every thrust, your tits bouncing, your knees struggling to hold you up. Your cheek pressed against the velvet cushion, lips open in a silent scream as he pounded into you from behind.

“You feel that?” Levi groaned, snapping his hips forward. “This is what happens when you act like a fucking tease.”

You could barely speak—barely think—but you nodded, whimpering, “Yes—yes, Levi, please—don’t stop—”

He tugged the belt tighter, slamming into you harder, deeper, like he wanted to mold your insides to the shape of his cock.

“Fucking dripping,” he grunted. “I can feel you squeezing me. So fuckin’ tight.”

You were gone. Slurred moans fell from your lips, tears slipping down your face as your body shook violently.

“You like being used like this, huh?” he sneered. “Tied up. Fucked dumb. Just a needy little hole for me to ruin.”

You nodded furiously, mouth open, drooling onto the cushion. “Yes, Levi—please, I need it—I need you—”

He bent over your back, still thrusting, now grinding deeper. “You’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you? Just from getting fucked like this?”

You clenched around him, crying out, the pressure in your belly snapping like a rubber band stretched too tight.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave—violent, overwhelming, shaking. Your vision whited out as your whole body spasmed beneath him, held together only by the grip of the belt and Levi’s hands on your hips.

“Fucking hell—” Levi groaned, voice cracked and low, “—that’s it, cum for me—fuck—”

He didn’t stop.

He kept going—faster, rougher, chasing his own release as your body twitched and convulsed from the overstimulation.

The only thing you could do was moan brokenly as he used you, mouth wide open and drooling, eyes glassy.

Then you felt him—his hips jerking, the rhythm breaking—and with a harsh groan in your ear, Levi slammed into you one final time and spilled deep inside you.

His grip stayed locked tight, fingers bruising your hips as he rode out his high, chest heaving against your back.

For a long moment, the only sound was your combined breath and the occasional, accidental twitch of your trembling legs.

Finally, he leaned over and kissed your shoulder. The belt slipped loose from your wrists, and his hand found your cheek, thumb wiping your tears.

“Did I break you?” he murmured, voice rough, but… gentle.

You let out a hoarse, satisfied sigh.

“I hope so.”

He chuckled low, biting softly at your shoulder. “Good.”

Your body felt like jelly. Used, full, and entirely boneless—folded into the chaise like you’d melted there.

The room was silent now. The glow of the candles had dimmed, flickering low, their golden light casting soft shadows over Levi’s face. His eyes weren’t sharp anymore. They were softer now. Still intense, but unreadable in a different way—like he was searching for something on your face that he wasn’t brave enough to ask for aloud.

You blinked at him, tears dried on your cheeks, lips swollen, pulse still fluttering in your wrists.

He finally moved.

Without a word, Levi pulled out of you carefully, steady hands on your hips to guide you down. You whimpered at the sensitivity, but he hushed you instantly with a thumb brushing along your thigh.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He untied the belt from around your wrists, letting it fall to the floor. Your arms ached with relief, and before you could slump forward, he caught you—pulling you gently into his lap.

You were a mess—legs trembling, body soaked with sweat, smeared lipstick, and still full of him. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t push you away.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around your back and pulled a throw blanket from the chaise, draping it over your shoulders. Then he held you—silent, solid, grounding.

You pressed your forehead to his chest, dazed and buzzing.

“I-I can’t feel my legs,” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-crying.

“Tch.” His voice was gruff, but his hand rubbed your back in soothing circles. “I told you I don’t go easy.”

You giggled weakly, nuzzling closer. “You’re a menace…”

Levi tilted your chin up, thumb brushing your cheek. “You good?”

His voice was quieter now. Rough, yes—but laced with something gentle. Something careful.

You nodded, eyes glassy. “Yeah. Just… floating.”

He stared at you for a beat. Then he shifted, slipping a hand between your thighs and gently brushing over your core.

You flinched.

“I know,” he murmured. “Too much. Sorry.”

He wiped you with the edge of the blanket—slow and gentle, surprisingly so. You watched him in a daze, heart swelling at the contrast. The same hands that had just wrecked you now handled you like you were porcelain.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled your legs across his lap and reclined back against the chaise, cradling you to his chest. One hand stroked your back, the other ran through your hair—slow, grounding motions.

“You didn’t have to be so gentle,” you whispered.

“You didn’t have to look at me like that,” he replied, voice low.

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m worth a damn.”

The silence that followed was thick—but not uncomfortable.

You nestled closer, resting your cheek against his collarbone.

“You are,” you whispered. “Even if you don’t think so.”

Levi didn’t answer. But his arms tightened around you just a little.

And that was enough.

~

Masterlist | Patreon

[undiagnosedcruelty]

Felix’s Cookies Have a Side Effect

Pairing: roommate!skz x GenderNeutral!reader

Genre: Crackfic

summary: Felix’s cookies were supposed to bring happiness—not turn you into a walking, talking aegyo machine.

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Content Warning: light cursing, crack humor, cursed levels of aegyo, food-based magic gone wrong, secondhand embarrassment, and the emotional trauma of eating unseasoned chicken.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I WAS PHYSICALLY HURTING WHILE WRITING THE AEGYO PARTS, PLS DONT ATTACK ME FOR THE CRINGE💔💔💔

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EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION───NOTHING IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO REAL LIFE EVENTS.

You should have known better. You really should have.

The golden rule of living with eight chaotic men was simple: never consume anything without questioning its origins first. But when Felix presented you with a freshly baked cookie—eyes sparkling with excitement, dimples popping as he all but shoved the plate into your hands—you didn’t even hesitate.

Big mistake.

At first, everything seemed fine. The cookie was warm, gooey, and filled with just the right amount of chocolate chips. The moment it melted on your tongue, you understood why Felix had that smug, cat-who-caught-the-canary expression. The guy knew his baking could end wars.

But then.

It started as a tingle in your chest—subtle, almost pleasant. Then, a strange, fizzy bubbling sensation crawled up your throat, like soda pop had replaced your blood. Before you could even process the weirdness—

"Aegyo mode activated."

"Oppa~~~!" you whined, gripping Han’s hoodie sleeve with both hands, voice unnaturally high-pitched.

The entire room went silent.

Eight pairs of eyes locked onto you. Blinking. Processing.

Han, mid-bite into his own cookie, choked so violently he nearly fell off the couch. Changbin clutched his chest like he had been physically struck, eyes wide with sheer betrayal. Minho? Minho had already turned on his heel and was walking out of the room without a word.

"I—" you started, panic rising in your throat. But once again, the words that escaped your lips were not yours.

"Jisungieeee~~~," you cooed, latching onto his arm like a needy toddler. "I missed you sooooo much today! Did you miss me too~?"

A deep, horrified gasp left your mouth as your hands shot up to cover it.

The damage, however, was already done.

Han collapsed. Not in a dramatic way—no, literally, his knees buckled, and he hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, wheezing so hard he could barely breathe.

"NO—NO WAY," he gasped between bouts of laughter, clutching his stomach. "WHAT IS THIS? WHY IS THIS SO CURSED?"

Seungmin, who had been quietly scrolling through his phone a moment ago, tilted his head and observed you like some kind of foreign lab experiment. "...Are you feeling okay? Did Felix poison you?"

"I DIDN'T!" Felix wailed, his freckles scrunching up in distress. He bounced on his feet, looking wildly between you and Chan. "It was supposed to make them happy! I put extra sugar and—"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Chan groaned, already dragging a hand down his face, his stress levels visibly skyrocketing. "Felix, what the hell did you put in them?"

Felix pouted, shuffling guiltily. "...Uhhh. Maybe a little enchanted vanilla extract?"

Chan narrowed his eyes, looking like he was seconds away from deleting existence itself. " Where exactly did you get enchanted vanilla extract!?"

Felix let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding eye contact. "Uh… I found this one magic shop online? The sketchy one next to the convenience store?"

Chan’s face blanked. "Felix. Please tell me you didn’t buy cooking ingredients from a store that also sells cursed objects and possibly hexed jewelry."

Felix winced. "... It was on sale?"

The room exploded into chaos.

”I THOUGHT IT WAS A SCAM OKAY AND I WANTED TO TRY IT!” Felix said on his defense, his hands shooting up in panic.

Hyunjin dropped to his knees, laughing so hard he had to clutch the couch for support. Jeongin had his phone out, already recording like a TMZ reporter documenting a celebrity scandal.

Minho, who had initially left, walked back in just to shake his head at you in pure, silent disappointment—before promptly turning around and leaving again.

Meanwhile, you were suffering.

Your body felt possessed. Every movement unnatural, exaggerated—your arms automatically folding into uwu poses like you had been forcibly programmed into a kawaii anime character. Every attempt to speak came out in a ridiculous, saccharine tone, as if you had become a walking, talking aegyo machine.

You clenched your fists, desperate to fight it. "Hyunjin, you—" Hyunjin raised a brow, intrigued.

"...You're sooooooo handsome and talented~~!"

A beat of silence.

"NOOOO!" you shrieked, slamming both hands over your mouth in horror.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. His lips trembled. He backed away like you had just summoned an ancient evil. "I—I don't like this. Take it back."

Seungmin was crying with laughter, clutching Jeongin’s shoulder for support. "I've never seen something so cursed in my life."

"Felix," Chan exhaled, pressing his fingers into his temples like he was getting a migraine. "How long does this last?"

Felix chuckled nervously. "Ehhhh… maybe a few hours?"

"A FEW HOURS?!" You collapsed onto the couch, face buried in a throw pillow, your tiny, adorably furious hands gripping it for dear life.

Jeongin wiped a tear from his eye, still wheezing. "Wait—wait—so they're basically stuck in perma-aegyo mode?"

You lifted your head to glare at him. Or tried to. Unfortunately, your body decided to puff your cheeks out like an angry hamster instead.

Jisung lost it all over again, doubling over with laughter.

"I’m gonna die," Changbin choked, wiping at his eyes. "This is the best day of my life."

Felix, now feeling at least a little guilty, reached over to pat your head. "At least you're super cute?"

Your soul screamed inside your body.

Chan sighed so deeply it sounded like he was giving up on life. "Alright, Felix, you and I are figuring out how to reverse this."

Felix nodded furiously. "Right!" Meanwhile, the rest of the members? They were thriving.

Seungmin had already started editing the footage Jeongin took, adding dramatic background music. Hyunjin sat in a corner, staring blankly at the ceiling like he had just witnessed a full-blown exorcism.

Jisung? He had opened up a notes app and was typing every cursed phrase you had said for future blackmail.

From the other room, Minho’s voice rang out: "If this isn't fixed by tomorrow, I’m moving out."

Your life was ruined. And all because you trusted Felix’s cookies.

────────────────────────────────────────

Chan was a man of solutions—not problems. So, after gathering all the members into the kitchen, he stood at the center with arms crossed, looking like an exhausted single father trying to discipline eight feral children. His jaw was tense, his brows knit together, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his bicep as he exhaled through his nose. "Okay. We need to fix this. Felix, what do we know about enchanted vanilla extract?"

Felix, who had been nervously shifting from foot to foot, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh… it's supposed to enhance positive emotions? Like, amplify happiness. But I think maybe… I added too much?"

"No shit," Minho deadpanned, cradling a mug of black coffee like it was the only thing keeping him from spontaneous combustion. He took a long, slow sip, his eyes half-lidded with pure resignation. "This entire situation is proof that I need new roommates."

Changbin, ever the problem solver, raised a hand. "So, what if we make them eat something really bitter? Would that cancel it out?"

Jisung perked up, eyes lighting with mischief. "Oh! Like how people shock themselves out of hiccups! Maybe we just need to surprise them."

Hyunjin gasped dramatically, placing a delicate hand over his chest like an aristocrat in distress. "We should SCARE them! Like… like drop a fake spider on them or—"

"Absolutely not." Chan shot him down immediately, the dad-mode in full force.

"Wait, wait," Seungmin interrupted, eyes gleaming with something sinister. "I saw this thing online where if you eat raw garlic, it resets your taste buds. What if we force them to eat something super strong?"

Chan turned to Felix with an arched brow. "How do we feel about this?"

Felix winced, looking like a puppy that had just been scolded for chewing a shoe. "I mean… it could work…? But if the magic is emotion-based, we might need something even stronger than just bitter food…"

"Like pain," Minho said casually, not even looking up from his coffee.

Silence. Everyone slowly turned to look at Minho. He blinked. "What?"

"hyung," Jeongin whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You scare me."

Before you could protest, Seungmin struck like a viper, shoving a whole spoonful of wasabi into your mouth without warning.

Your soul left your body.

The moment the fiery paste hit your tongue, your entire existence was reduced to a single, unrelenting sensation: PAIN. Tears instantly welled up in your eyes as a molten inferno exploded across your taste buds, searing every last ounce of joy from your being. Your back arched like you had been struck by lightning, fingers twitching violently.

The room went still. Everyone leaned in, watching with bated breath.

And then—

"Omooo, it's so spicy~~~!" you wailed, hands flapping dramatically like a wind-up toy. "My tongue is burniiiiiing~~! Oppa, save me~~~!"

Jisung collapsed.

Hyunjin face-planted onto the floor, muffling his screams of laughter into the hardwood.

Chan just dragged a hand down his face, looking like he aged ten years in ten seconds.

"Felix," he sighed, voice drained of all life, "get back in the kitchen. We need a Plan B."

After the failed wasabi experiment, Chan had officially had enough. He stood at the counter, gripping its edge like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. His shoulders rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, the way one might prepare before dealing with absolute nonsense—which, unfortunately, was his life now.

"Okay," Chan started, voice firm, arms crossed. "Clearly, pain isn’t working."

"You don’t say," you grumbled. Or at least, you tried to. Instead, what came out was: "Aiyaaaa, I’m so tiiiiiiired~~~ Someone carry meee~~!"

Jisung had to physically hold himself up against the counter, face buried in his arms to muffle the wheezing sounds escaping him. Hyunjin, still recovering from the previous attack on his sanity, simply turned to face the wall, as if that would somehow shield him from the horror.

Seungmin, still recording, zoomed in on Chan’s soul leaving his body.

"Felix." Chan turned to him, voice dangerously calm. "We need a new plan. Now."

Felix winced. "Okay, okay! So if the enchanted vanilla is boosting emotions, we need to counteract it with something that suppresses them!"

Jeongin raised a brow. "Like what? Depression?"

Felix perked up. "Actually, yes!"

The room went silent. Minho blinked. "You want us to make them depressed?"

"Not like that!" Felix waved his hands. "Just… we need to feed them something that dampens emotions, kind of like a sedative."

Seungmin hummed, tapping his chin. "So… bland food?"

Felix nodded. "Exactly! If we give them something so dull that it cancels out the hyper emotions, maybe it’ll balance things out!"

Jisung perked up. "I have an idea."

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen was filled with the scent of… absolutely nothing.

Felix, Chan, and Seungmin had prepared a dish so mind-numbingly boring that just looking at it made everyone feel empty inside.

Boiled chicken.

Plain white rice.

Unsalted, unseasoned, completely dry steamed broccoli.

Not a single grain of salt in sight.

Han looked at the plate in pure horror. "This is evil."

Changbin poked at the chicken with his fork. "It’s so… pale. It looks like it’s never known happiness."

Hyunjin leaned down and sniffed it. "I smell nothing. This is worse than death."

Meanwhile, you sat at the table, arms crossed, pouting aggressively. "Hmph! Why do I have to eat this yucky foooood~~? I want something yummy~~!" Jisung physically had to leave the room.

"Eat." Chan shoved a spoon into your hands.

You glared at him. Tried to. Your body betrayed you again, making your eyes go big and watery. "Oppaaaa, feed me~~!"

Chan slammed his hands on the table. "EAT THE DAMN CHICKEN."

With great difficulty, you took a bite. The moment the flavorless abyss of boiled chicken touched your tongue, something shifted. Your fingers twitched. Your uwu posture straightened. The bubbling sensation in your chest fizzled out.

The room held its breath.

You swallowed. Slowly, cautiously, you opened your mouth and said, "That was disgusting."

Silence.

Then—

"IT WORKED!" Felix cheered, throwing his arms in the air.

Hyunjin collapsed onto the floor, hands covering his face. "Oh my god, it’s over."

Jisung was still laughing, but now in relief. "I was gonna have nightmares about that."

Chan exhaled the deepest sigh of his life. "Felix, never again."

Felix chuckled sheepishly. "No more enchanted ingredients. Got it."

Minho clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Let this be a lesson. Never trust Felix’s cookies."

You shuddered. "Never again."

Moral of the story: never accept food without questioning its existence.

[inkedinshadows]

Don't Look Away

Day 25: Mirror sex — Rhysand x f!reader

Warnings: smut, language, p in v

Word count: 770

When you had walked into the bedroom earlier in the evening, you had wondered why your mate had moved the floor mirror from the walk-in closet next to the bed.

But now you understood.

“Look at you, darling,” Rhysand murmured in your ear as he thrust into you from behind. “See how beautiful you are when I take you?”

You met your own eyes in the reflection, and what you saw there ignited a new heat within your body. You were on your knees on the edge of the bed, Rhys standing behind you, his majestic wings on display and slightly stretched out. You let your gaze wander from your heated face to your round breasts—one of them covered by Rhys’s broad hand—and then further down to the arm he had wrapped around your middle to keep you upright. When your eyes fell on where your bodies joined, a soft whimper escaped you as you caught a glimpse of his cock disappearing inside you, glistening with your arousal.

“You can see it too, can’t you?”

Your mate’s voice was a sensual caress down your spine. His violet gaze met yours in the mirror and his smile only grew. The sight of the small dimple on his left cheek was so beautiful that you clenched around him.

“You’re a work of art, darling,” he continued as he thrust slowly. “Created by the finest artist in the world.”

You lifted a hand to cup his face, turning your head to place a soft kiss right on that adorable dimple.

“So are you, my love,” you murmured. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

Rhys’s arms tightened around you as he moved a bit faster. “Then look at us. Two stunning people who find pleasure in one another and looking really good while they do it.”

You chuckled, not even surprised by his words, but you just had the time to share a brief kiss before Rhys gently pushed you down on the bed until you were on your hands and knees.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he purred in your ear. He brushed a kiss onto your shoulder, and then he leaned back up, hands now on your hips as he picked up his rhythm.

Through the reflection, you could see his muscles shift with every roll of his hips, both of you moaning as the new angle allowed him to thrust deeper. You watched the light shimmer along his dark, swirling tattoos and filter through the thin membrane of his wings. You struggled not to close your eyes while your pleasure only grew, but the sight of your mate’s heavy-lidded gaze and slightly parted lips as he pounded into you was worth it.

“Rhys,” you called softly after a moment.

He just hummed.

“You’re not looking anymore.”

Rhys opened his eyes again and smiled at you through the mirror. “I’m sorry, my love. You just feel so good that I can’t think sometimes.”

“Oh?” you teasingly asked, brows raised, as you clenched your inner walls around his cock.

His groan threatened to be your undoing, even more so when it was followed by his smirk. “You cruel, pretty thing.”

One hand left your hips to slip beneath you, finding its way to your sensitive clit. Rhys began to draw circles over it while he kept up his fast-paced thrusts.

“I want you to look at yourself when you come, love,” he instructed.

You did exactly that. You watched your breasts bounce back and forth whenever Rhys slammed into you. Your teeth bit into your lower lip, your cheeks flushed, and your back arched, and when he displayed his wings in all their glory behind him, you came with a loud moan.

Your body shook and your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, but never once did your gaze leave your reflection, where a wide-eyed version of you was staring back.

Rhys ran a hand down your spine. “Now you know.”

After a few more thrusts, you admired the way his face crumbled and his eyes closed as he reached his orgasm, shooting his load deep inside you. His hips stuttered for a moment and a beautiful groan left his lips before he stilled.

When you both came down from your high, Rhys folded his wings behind his back and leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back while he peppered your neck with tiny kisses.

“Did you like that?” he whispered in your ear.

“Oh, yes.” You smiled, turning your head so that your lips would finally meet. “And next time, you watch as I fuck you.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

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[etherealily]

art // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

Part 1 : Guilt Part 3 : Bets

[2/3] Long.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings : Cuss words, SFW but discretion advised, mature themes, hurt/comfort

Desc. : The trauma card.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

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SIX WEEKS LATER

Finnick doesn't know when it happened.

His plan had been to basically only shift Snow's focus from his family to you. You, a random stranger he could have zero ties to and could afford to lose if times got tough.

But now? His focus had been shifted from survival to you.

He finds himself mulling about, wallowing in too much sorrow to have been unnoticeable.

He didn't need this. He was already dealing with his own problems.

Thankfully, you didn't seem to have taken the ordeal during the Games too seriously, and now he was back to having only an endless string of Capitol assholes in his bed every other week.

Thankfully, because he had no idea what the hell he'd do if you actually ended up getting attached, or looking to him as some sort of protection, or actually caring or loving him - his heart couldn't take that. His conscience couldn't take that.

Or maybe, he had it all wrong.

Maybe you weren't distancing yourself because you didn't give a shit about him.

Maybe his well-being had nothing to do with this.

Maybe you were distancing yourself because you hated that Faye had died.

Right. Made more sense. What a narcissist he is.

Worst part of all this, as mentioned, was that he was actually starting to give a shit. A thing, he'd been told, he did far too often.

In the week you'd spent at the Capitol with him, he'd grown to like far too much about you.

You cared about Faye? He liked that, a lot.

You got really worried every time he came back from 'filming promos' with bruises? He liked the way you tried helping the only way you could. Which was, apparently, trying to take his mind off of it by regaling him with the mundanities of a day in your life back in Four.

But what he especially liked was that you didn't absolutely lose your shit in laughter when he held your hand in his sleep. He figured you'd pull away. He figured you'd snort and call him a baby.

But you didn't.

You didn't just let him, you allowed him, which, in honesty, only Finnick knew best how different those two were.

And he loved you all the more for it.

Liked. He liked you all the more for it.

"Hey.", he says, looking up from his rope to you.

He loves when he gets to come back to Four, but what he loves most is when he gets to come back to you.

Because you understood. You didn't understand the full extent of what he went through at the Capitol, but you'd spent enough time there to know that it wasn't really a place you could miss.

"Hi, Finnick.", you reply, sitting by him. "You don't get rope burn?"

"I do. But check this out.", he boasts, baring his calloused, red palms to you. "Scars of a warrior. And...", he begins, tugging on the ends of the knot and tightening it, "...knot of a warrior. It's impossible to undo. Try, c'mon."

"I'll take your word for it."

He shrugs, gently tossing the rope down and listening to the soft shift of sand to make space for it. See, he'd always loved this about sand. Always, always made space for anything. No matter how pathetic. How broken. How sinful.

"I was thinking."

You look up from the rope on the sand beside your feet up to his eyes. "Mhm?"

"Maybe... y'know, only if you're interested... I mean, I'll teach you how to take photos.", he says, coolly, his dimpled grin coming in to save the day, his sea-green eyes running over your face desperately, and his sun-touched hair being moved by the wind and placed elegantly in front of those very eyes.

"With your camera?"

"What else?"

"I just... you're really protective over it."

"No, I'm not."

"You slept hugging it."

"Well, yeah, 'cause you were in the Viewing Room, and I-"

He decides it's best to shut up then.

"I'm not protective over my camera. Do you wanna learn or not?"

"Sure."

═════════════════════ ⋆🎯⋆ ══════════════════

That night sees him leaning back on the couch, welling up with tears of laughter as you struggled to hold the fucking thing properly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", he yells between laughs as he sees you pissed and threatening to smash the camera.

"How hard is it? C'mon, cradle the camera with your left, Y/N. Cradle, like a baby!"

"That's not how I would hold a baby!"

"How would you hold a baby?"

You demonstrate what you'd done when you'd had to babysit, and he bursts out into further hysterics, placing his glass of whiskey down as you pick up yours to take an irritated sip.

"That's very motherly, but it's not going to get you any photos."

"Well, fuck photos then!"

He raises a brow, watching as you come sit by him, placing his chin in your shoulder and looking down with you at the camera in your lap. "You sure? Don't you want to make art?", he asks, a wisp of wonder in his tone.

"Fuck art."

"Fucking can be art."

"Sex is not art, okay?!"

Who the hell were you trying to convince? Finnick 'Capitol Whore' Odair?

"What is it then?"

"I dunno, like, a way to have a baby?"

"Really? So that's the only reason you'd have sex? It's a means to reproduce?"

See in theory, yes, you knew that it wasn't, but you had never thought of any other purpose for it. Because when push came to shove, even if you were in District 4, the possibility of mortality hang over all your heads everyday. Not really top priority to think of fucking.

"Well, yeah! Why else would you? You need to keep population up or the Peacekeepers-"

He nods, closing his eyes as though he finally understood why you said what you said. "Ah. You're thinking of Panem."

"Don't we live here?"

"They don't do population checks."

"But I heard-"

"I know what you heard. Trust me, your service is not required. Other districts are doing a good enough job keeping the remains of humanity booming in number."

You sigh. You're not getting out of this until he's changed your take on sex, that's clear.

"You can't possibly think sex is only for giving birth."

"Finnick, stop."

"No, seriously. Imagine a canvas, right?"

"Okay."

"Paintbrushes. A curve of paint, a flick of your wrist, a deep stroke across the canvas."

"Mhm."

His voice drops to a barely audible whisper and it makes your toes curl. In a very good way. "Now", he breathes, "Imagine the canvas is skin."

That pretty much did it for you. He achieved it.

"Finnick."

He hums, almost laughing, but not quite. "Just listen. Eyes closed."

You obey, because when Finnick Odair asks you to listen to him verbally fuck you, you do.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Yep. Sex is art.

And you were covered filthy with his words.

But to his credit, yes, they did help you take good pictures.

They also made you wonder why the hell someone who described sex so intimately and preciously would fuck everything with a pulse in the Capitol.

He frowns from the bed, where he sits shirtless with his arm on his knee, posing for you. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, so, me."

Fuck.

"That's what's blocking your art, so just get it out. Ask me whatever."

"Okay, how many times a week do you have sex?", you scoff. Should serve him right for asking you to ask him a-

"Five."

"Five? FIVE?"

"Well, I mean.... technically zero." He tenses up.

"What? Wait, that doesn't make sense."

"Look, sex and fucking are different! Sex is more intimate! Okay, look, I just think if you don't see the art and the beauty in everything we do, then it's just... life becomes mundane! Painful, even."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay."

He's about to riot. Why weren't you pushing?

"Seriously. I just can't... I can't be without assuming everything happens to eventually become art. It hurts if I don't."

You nod and he breaks. Boundaries are only required when he wants them to be. And right now, he's in the mood to spill his brains to you. He's in the mood to bare his soul to you.

"Uh... you know, uh, we should go back to-"

"NO, Y/N. Listen!", he pleads. He doesn't want your usually welcome distractions - not now - and he doesn't want a palate cleanser. He wants you, he realizes, horrifyingly.

"What?"

"I don't... I've never had sex. But I've fucked. You know what I mean?"

You... kind of seem to, but he's not sure. You look like you're treading ice, walking on eggshells around him, which he doesn't blame you for. He hasn't forgotten his outburst the first night you'd met.

"So... you get it?"

You shake your head, and he's mildly relieved. Good. You didn't get it. He'd spoken without thinking, and he didn't want to make himself filthy in your eyes. Not that he was some angel now, either - he saw the way you still looked at him. Sellout, your gaze scolded him.

"It's okay. I didn't really expect you to."

"Why not?"

He inhales and shakes his head, shrugging. "Context? Or, rather, lack thereof."

"I mean, why would you fuck people you didn't want to be intimate with?"

He's aware that the laugh that follows is only exacerbating your confusion, but you'd genuinely, genuinely, amused him. Because you were basically him before the Capitol. Wide-eyed, not entirely innocent, but definitely not well-versed with the world.

You were him and yet also the polar opposite.

Patting the spot on the bed next to him after shifting a couple of roses away, Finnick watches as you tentatively place the camera down safely first before sitting next to it. Fuck.

"Are you confused?"

You look up at him totally normally, unsuspecting, and trusting, worst of all, and he swears he's about to kill himself.

"What?"

"Are you confused?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know what this button does-"

"No, no, I mean... about what I said."

You pause. Yes. "I mean, slightly, but you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Do you want to hear it?"

You frown, and he tsks in urgency, his hands on your shoulders. "Do you want to hear it?"

You nod vehemently and he lets go.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

You're pretty sure it's three am by the time he's asleep. And it's in your arms. Tell twelve year old you that. She'd riot. She'd scream.

Finnick Odair's just bared his soul to you and now, he was utterly vulnerable.

You can't really fall asleep, not after that. Not after knowing that the lanky fourteen year old you'd hero-worshipped on TV when you were eleven had been forced into a room with a Capitol pervert two days later.

You look down. He's twenty-one. He's been doing this shit for seven years. Three years short of a decade. You look back up, at the wall in front of you, and although you can't help it, you get visions. Your mind conjures up its own versions of what happened to him, and you pull him just that much closer.

And that was impossible. Because he's only a couple rules-of-physics away from genuinely melting into you. He no longer seems to feel the need to hold your fingers, and instead, has wrapped himself around your torso and plans to stay there.

Fine by you.

You rest your head back against the headboard. He'd seemed to have struggled, opening up. He'd seemed to not know what to say at all and simultaneously not know where to start first.

You look down again, searching for the ocean in his eyes. Not there. Good, he's still asleep. You don't even feel the regret that you're supposed to feel for judging him, for insinuating that he slept around simply because he could. You can't feel that regret, not when so much anger overtook you.

The gold of his hair spews out from between your fingers, and you find yourself moving your fingers lower, down to the curve of his forehead, the dip of his nose, the plush of his lips, the turn of his jawline.

Beauty is rewarding to everyone else but its owner.

Your thumb rubs over his cheek and you sigh.

It all seems to make sense now, honestly. Why he chose someone from his District to photograph instead of from the Capitol. Why he hasn't been a complete asshole to you.

The white roses in every photo. You'd seen Snow wearing them before.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Finnick wakes up much earlier than he usually does when he's at the Capitol, but then again, he preferred to relish every moment he could spend back in the District.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is your hand.

He'd ended up sleeping in your arms, and you, being utterly, stupidly considerate, hadn't moved an inch.

He gently pries himself away from your arms, attempting to move your head down to the pillow instead of the neck-sprain-inducing position you'd assumed on the headboard. You seem more comfortable on the pillow.

His pillow, his mind notes, though he has no idea why.

The morning air outside beckons him to move closer to the sea. No one, not even Snow himself could stop him from this call.

He quickly freshens up, brushes, washes his face and then he practically soars out to the sea.

The water engulfs him, but it feels more like an embrace. An embrace that, not an hour ago, you'd had him in. He momentarily, terrifyingly considers basking in it for eternity. Letting the water hug him into oblivion. But no. His family's out there. You're out there.

He smooths his hair out, and squints out into the horizon. I mean, he could just go. Only if he managed to get past Panem borders, but if he did manage that? God, would he be set!

He could live out the rest of his days never having to see a rose again.

He could live out the rest of his days painting, photographing, he could maybe even build a boat.

He doesn't know how to build a boat.

But that doesn't matter.

Because he could do anything he fucking wanted. For once, his life would be his.

He turns his head shorewards, expecting the sharp disappointment of being ripped away from his fantasies, but instead, he finds you there. You wave and he basically sprints underwater to reach you.

"The water's amazing, come in!"

"I can't, not this early in the morning!", you call back out.

He almost asks why, but he doesn't want to pressure you. Not everyone can comprehend the beauty of an open, vast, unforgiving and unbiased sea. One that, just like sand, doesn't discriminate in its cruelty.

He'd rather unbiased cruelty than biased adoration.

Such comprehension only stems from trauma. Trauma that he would never wish upon you. He'd never wish it upon his worst ene- no. No, no. He wishes trauma upon Snow. 100%.

"What are you doing today?!"

"I've got to buy things for my home and then I've got tutoring!"

He loves the mundanity of it all. The way you almost grumble as you say it. The way it seems like you also want to just spend the rest of the day lounging with him.

After a moment, he asks, "Can I come with?!"

You look so pleasantly surprised by that, like you think it's a joke that you haven't understood, but his expectant look finally tells you it's not.

"Why!?"

He smiles, lifting his hands up in a comically exaggerated shrug that sends water droplets flying to his sides. "'Cause I can!"

It's mildly unsettling to him how normal you're being. He's pretty sure the whiskey and the tension of last night brought to light things he'd much rather muffle into the dark, but you don't seem affected.

In fact, you seem sort of relieved. Like you've finally understood something that had been bothering you for a while.

You probably think you know exactly why he'd suddenly brought you into his life, and that's what brings him back to reality.

He's still using you. The whole thing about his trauma? Wasn't that basically to get suspicion off him? Maybe that's why he did it.

His mood now soured by his own doing, he essentially stomps out of the water and slumps next to you, trying to ignore the familiar discomfort of wet sand on his skin.

Wet sand that you pick off for him. Fuck.

You couldn't be a bitch, could you?

If you'd been a bitch, this would be so much easier.

But no. You apparently had be fucking extraordinary, didn't you?

"You're actually coming to the market?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"And then tutoring?"

"I'm older and wiser, Y/N. I could probably tutor better than you. Also, I can actually hold a camera."

"Wow, so that's how it is. Ad hominem remarks."

It's embarrassing, to say the least, that after talking such a big talk about wisdom, he doesn't know what 'ad hominem' means.

"Yeah. That's how it is." Cop-outs are always effective in such situations.

You snort, moving your foot back and forth in an arch. "Finnick?"

He hums. "Have you ever needed Tesserae? Like, before the Games."

He nods. "Yeah. Once. It was a very bad storm, so fishing wasn't really going well."

"It's funny, Faye never needed Tesserae. I mean, her family did, but obviously they didn't want it to go into her name. So she was clean. But she still... y'know."

"I want to say something about fate, but I'm not sure it applies here.", he says.

"No, it does."

"How so?"

"I've been looking at it kind of... harshly, but it helps.", you say, turning to the sea in front of you. He briefly wonders whether the orange horizon reflected in your eyes brings forth the same daydreams that he just had, in your mind.

"I just figure... it's probably written in stone that she has to participate in the Games. Maybe it was just a matter of when. Maybe this was a kindness done by God, or the universe or something. So that she had less memories, less to leave behind."

He bites the inside of his cheek. "So you're saying that she died so young because it would have been harder if she had died when she was older, with more memories with the people she loved?"

"It sounds terrible, but it was something my elementary teacher told us, when we were first taught about the Games."

He nods, trying to plead with the horizon to give him something to say.

"That was a shitty way to start the morning. Sorry.", you mutter, and he aggressively shakes his head.

"Shit's on your mind, but it doesn't have to stay there, okay?"

You nod. "How is it we're not hungover?"

He raises a brow. "Sea air. Does wonders."

"I live way too far inland, then. Should just stay in the Victor's Village forever."

"Yeah, you should. You got kids in your family?"

"Yeah, my niece and nephew, why?"

"Bring 'em all here, they can actually have a childhood with the sea thirty paces away. I'll teach them stuff. Rope tying, swimming, shit like that."

You smile softly, and it makes the sea air sweeter for him.

The words are left unsaid on both your tongues. They can have a childhood until eleven.

"I'm sure they'd love it if you could teach them."

He tries not to notice the cameras in the distance behind you, but it's really fucking hard.

"We should go."

"Why? It's nice, and I've got...", you reply, looking down at your watch, "...like, a half hour left before I need to go."

"No, let's go."

You figure that, since this wasn't a common occurrence, there was a reason for the roughness with which he led you back inside.

"You gonna tell me what that was about?", you ask as he picks out an apple from one of the adoring fruit bowls someone has sent him.

You've become bolder, grown more of a spine, but asking him this terrifies you, for some reason. Probably because you know he'll tell you the truth.

"There were cameras."

"Aren't you used to it?"

He tosses the apple up in the air and catches it before he washes it in the sink, turning to you as he takes a bite. "But are you?"

You shake your head, catching the one he washes and then throws to you the next moment.

"Exactly."

Nodding, you take a bite.

"What? What else do you have on your mind?" He reads your mind with an unsettling talent.

"What are they saying? Y'know, about us?"

"Just... you know, what you already know. That we're in love. And shit."

"You didn't want the cameras to capture the lack of love, then?"

Whoa, you were hitting hard. "Uh, no, I just thought you'd want some privacy."

"You already got me to come to the Capitol and take fake pictures to pacify Snow."

"Yeah, but-"

"So what is private about my life anymore? I didn't even know I cared so much about my privacy until it went away."

He's been there, done that.

"You're saying you want cameras on you?"

"I'm saying that from now on, they're going to be on me either way."

His chewing slows, and he nods. "Right. Sorry."

"You don't have to - you know that isn't why I said that. Don't apologise."

Alright, now he's more sure than ever that you have some skewed idea of what's going on, one that paints him as someone who accidentally got you into this mess.

Licking his lips, he moves over to place what he wants you to construe as a loving arm around the shoulder. But it's actually a guilty one. A terrified one. A fuck-if-this-goes-south-I-will-lose-her one.

He squeezes twice. "I've got you."

It's hard to say that without scoffing. He's barely got himself.

---

Finnick realizes lots of things by the end of the day.

One, if you want to go somewhere where no one cares who you are and be shoved around, it's the marketplace.

Two, you were wiser than him.

Three, your trust in him, no matter how hard you tried to hide it, was blind. Blind, and infuriatingly so.

Which is why when he finally dropped you home, you said something that, if you didn't have blind trust in him, would have immediately sent of warning bells in your head that he was an absolute asshole who was using you.

"Peacekeepers seem to have multiplied around here."

And his instinctual reply should have been enough to make you realize his entire plan and scorn him to hell.

"Yeah, they used to circle around mine more."

Yep. His plan had worked. Snow had begun to send him silent warnings that now, if he didn't do as he said, the "love of his life" would be killed.

And he didn't know if it was relief or sadism, but momentarily, he found a slight bit of joy that his family wasn't the one under more immediate threat than you.

God, he was such a bad fucking person.

"Maybe they're there to protect me.", you scoff, and he laughs, following you into your house and locking the fucking door.

"Yes, President Snow is known for his extraordinary empathy."

"Is he going to threaten to kill me if you don't... y'know?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I'm used to it. And you'll be safe, trust me."

"I don't want to if you aren't. I can't live with that knowledge.", you say, pursing your lips as you place the items on the kitchen counter.

He looks around and his environment aligns with what he expected a house with two kids to look like. "Where's everyone?"

"There's some school thing. Something to honor Faye and Kai, so my family's not here."

"You didn't go?"

"I don't know if I can.", you respond, shrugging.

He sighs, sitting on the chair while you perch up on the counter, his forearm grazing the side of your knee. "She was lovely."

You nod. "She'd have loved this."

"Loved what?"

"Busy days. She was a tiny bit weird like that. She liked having something to do, and had a whole itinerary planned."

He chuckles incredulously. "Yeah, right. She was thirteen."

"No, she came by every weekend, knocking on my door and telling me the time slots for tutoring. I'm not kidding."

"Oh my god.", he remarks, shaking his head.

"She was so neurotic, in the best way. Said she loved being able to crash into bed after being productive the whole day."

He grins. "She sounds amazing. I wish I got more time with her."

You shake your head. "Wouldn't ever be enough."

He stands, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry."

The only two words he has the right to say to you, and the two you keep rejecting, cluelessly.

"What?"

"I should've done better."

"You did the best you could. Sometimes, even District 1 Careers die."

It kills him that you think he's talking about the Games.

You look at each other for a while, and he frowns softly before his eyes move to your mouth. His lips follow soon after.

He kisses you, and then pulls away, making sure you're not absolutely repulsed, and you don't seem to be, and so he keeps going, his hands on the back of your neck, in your hair.

You're kissing back. "That's all that matters", he thinks, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

No repulsion.

Not yet, anyway. Because right before the kiss, he'd noticed something that you hadn't, right outside, pointing straight at you.

Cameras.

God, he was such a bad. fucking. person.

[meowmeowriley]

Soap wakes up to Simon at his bedside. Between the way Simon completely changed from how he spoke to Soap and the way he spoke to hospital staff, and the butterflies in his stomach, hell he even called Soap Johnny and to Soap's own surprise he loved the way it sounded, Soap finds the courage to ask "So when were you gonna tell me yer my boyfriend?" Because obviously he was.

Simon doesn't even skip a beat, smiles widely at him, dimples bisected by harsh glasgow scars. "Caught me out, have you?" Then he looks away, as if afraid to see the consequences of his actions. "I didn't want to overwhelm you, I'm sorry."

Soaps heart and pride swell. At being right, at knowing his boyfriend on instinct alone. He forgave him immediately, Simon had just been looking out for him.

Except,

They weren't together.

Long before the mission that had landed Soap in the hospital, Ghost had admitted to Soap that he had feelings for him, much to his own dismay. Adding to that dismay, Soap had taken a step back, looking conflicted. "I'm sorry, Lt. I- I'm straight."

Ghost had cursed, apologized profusely, desperately hoping he hadn't made the other uncomfortable.

Soap assured him they were fine, they were still friends. They were. Of course they were.

Since that day though, Soap had the worst luck with dating. Every girl he talked to would ghost him. One night stands would go to the bathroom and not come back, or tinder dates wouldn't even show. The only one who didn't ghost him was Ghost. Ever his best friend.

Seeing him now, how he seemed so excited about being together, Ghost convinced himself this was how it was meant to be. Soap hadn't meant it when he'd rejected him, he was just protecting their jobs. Yeah. Had to be. And that could work in his favor.

"Price and Gaz don't know." He said quietly.

"The other two guys who were in and out of here?" He tilted his head like a confused puppy. Shit, those eyes and that pout had Simon in a chokehold. "Surely they'd have picked up on it."

Simon smiled sadly. "We have to keep it a secret, for our jobs."

Johnny nodded, but his pout remained. He understood, even if it felt wrong.

This was good. Simon didn't have to resign himself to the friend zone, as he'd initially thought. Johnny was his. He'd been keeping those nasty women off of Johnny before, chasing them away. Hiding some of them after they wouldn't take a hike voluntarily. Now he wouldn't have to do that anymore. Which was good, as Johnny was starting to get suspicious.

But those suspicions had been forgotten.

As Simon took Johnny's hand and brought it to himself, rubbing the other man's knuckles against his lips, and planting gentle kisses to them, there wasn't a hint of suspicion on the Scots face.

Why would there be? His devoted yet secret boyfriend clearly had nothing else to hide. Certainly not the bodies of twelve women.

[bomber-grl]

Mob x popular! Reader 🛸

Shigeo Kageyama x Gn! Reader (whose also an esper because yes always)

You’re literally the most popular person in school, well aside from tsubomi

Plus, you and mob were also childhood friends, only difference is that you and takane stayed friends

I mean how could u not be friends with tsubomi? You both understood each other and you two being aware of mobs crush on you

Well takane was worried about someone who you both still considered a distant friend misunderstanding you

If you understand tsubomi then yk what I’m yapping about

It’s difficult being popular, basically everyone has a crush on you, either for your looks or intellect

I mean it gets exhausting

Mob had liked you ever since.. well basically forever

I mean ritsu and reigen were well aware and to be honest… they really doubted you liked him back 😭

It really be your own people

Yk they still encouraged him to confess even tho it’d probably cause mob to reach “???” -

But surprisingly you were the one to bring it up, I mean mob was waiting with an umbrella just to see if the rain would let up at school

This was the perfect opportunity

I mean, others who were on cleaning duty were on the other floors and those who were here for after school clubs weren’t anywhere near

Do you decided to approach mob

You tapped his shoulder right and when he looked into see who it was you quickly went the other way to surprise him

He was, of course without a doubt,was shocked

He wasn’t the only one because he had two little stalkers

Ritsu and dimple 😭😭

When you confessed, dimple thought it was cool you approached mob

And ristu? He always liked you, you were nice but he was about to lose his mind if you were just playing with his older brother because he was quiet and impressionable

But no

You smiled at mob and asked if he liked you- which if mobs, dimples and ritsus jaws weren’t already all the way down to hell, well they were already

Mob felt himself losing a grip on his powers and the blush on his face wasn’t helping

Before he could turn away you gripped onto his hand and demanded he answered

Meanwhile dimple was biting his imaginary finger nails on what could happen and ritsu was also concerned on his brothers possible reaction

Before anyone could think another thing you blurted it out before anyone could process

“I asked because I like you mob”

I’m surprised mob didn’t explosion till this day

The urge to draw dimple and ritsu in this scenario

Anyway

After the two of you start dating and many risky situations you begin letting everyone know

I mean the first day mob was so nervous on letting everyone know and walking in holding hands but once you convinced him he did it

And people… they weren’t happy 😭😭

I mean their definition of royalty was walking around with some rando and as time went on they tried their best to tolerate it

Honestly ritsu and dimple probably had to pull some stunts to not have mob being brutally bullied every waking hour-

Anyway, when mob lets reigen know he openly congratulates him but secretly wonders how 😭

And when he tells the body improvement club they congratulate so much it’s honestly nice

Of course the telepathy club also congratulates him but they question him a bit-

It was tome 😭

She even asked mob to ask u if you’d be interested in in joining and sweet sweet mob mentioned it in passing

He also mentioned to you how he joined the body improvement club as motivation to confess to you first 😭😭

It’s so sweet and his red face gets even redder when you smile and hug him

So sweet

[strangevynl]

back to friends

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ :･ childhoodbsf!felix x afab!reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ :･ angst

June 12 2006

The summer heat was relentless, baking the pavement under the afternoon sun. You ran ahead, laughter ringing through the quiet neighborhood, feet pounding against the sidewalk. Felix trailed behind, breathless but determined, his arms pumping as he tried to catch up.

“Slow down!” he called out, voice full of frustration.

You glanced back with a teasing grin. “Not my fault you’re slow, Lix!”

Felix scowled but kept running until the two of you reached the small park at the end of the street. Both of you collapsed onto the swings, panting, the only sound between you the creaking of metal chains.

“One day,” Felix huffed, wiping sweat from his brow, “I’ll be faster than you.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Mmm… doubtful.”

Felix pouted, nose scrunching up in that familiar way that always gave him away. He was terrible at hiding his emotions—not that you minded. It was part of what made him Felix.

For a while, neither of you spoke, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky. Then, without warning, Felix’s voice broke the silence.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You turned toward him. “Yeah?”

“We’ll always be best friends, right?”

The question caught you off guard. Felix had always been the sentimental one, the type to hold onto things long after everyone else had moved on. It was one of the many things about him that you never really understood—but you didn’t need to.

“Of course,” you answered easily, nudging his shoulder. “Even if you somehow get faster than me—which, by the way, isn’t happening—we’ll still be best friends.”

Felix’s smile was instant, bright enough to rival the sun. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

You linked pinkies, the way you always did, sealing a vow you both believed would never break.

Back then, it had been simple.

Back then, you thought forever was real.

You had no idea what was coming.

—🍵—

August 25 2025

The coffee in your hands had gone cold, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You had been staring at him for too long.

Felix sat at the far end of the café, surrounded by people who had taken the space you used to occupy. He was laughing—head tilted back, eyes crinkled, dimples pressing into his cheeks like nothing in the world had ever hurt him.

Like nothing had ever changed.

Like you hadn’t spent years by his side, only to become nothing more than a familiar stranger.

The hollow feeling in your chest was one you had grown used to, but some days, it still ached. Some days, you could still feel the echoes of the past clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering all the things you never said, all the things you never did to stop this from happening.

Jisung’s voice pulled you out of it.

“You’re doing it again.”

Your fingers curled around your cup. “Doing what?”

“Looking at him like he’s the sun and you’re the idiot who flew too close.”

You scoffed, but the sound felt empty. “That’s dramatic.”

Jisung raised a brow. “Is it?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t, because deep down, you knew he was right. This wasn’t just about Felix making new friends or drifting away. It was about you standing at the edge of something breaking and doing nothing to stop it. It was about the weight in your chest when he stopped looking for you in crowded rooms, stopped texting first, stopped treating you like someone worth holding on to.

It was about the realization that maybe, just maybe, he was better at letting go than you were.

“Talk to him,” Jisung said.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is.”You shook your head, but before you could say anything, Jisung grabbed your untouched coffee and stood.

Panic flared in your chest. “Jisung, don’t—” But he was already halfway across the café, walking straight toward Felix’s table, straight toward the boy who had spent years fitting himself into the gaps of your life, only to slip through the cracks when you weren’t paying attention.

Felix noticed him immediately, brows furrowing as Jisung placed your cup down in front of him and said something low, something that made his expression shift from confusion to something you couldn’t quite read.

And then Jisung pointed.

Right at you.

The air in your lungs turned sharp.

For the first time in months, Felix’s eyes met yours.

And it felt like drowning.

The moment stretched too long, too thin. You should’ve looked away. Should’ve grabbed your bag, pretended you hadn’t been staring, pretended Jisung hadn’t just thrown you under the bus in the worst way possible. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. Because Felix was looking at you, really looking at you, and for a second—just a second—it felt like the world had rewound itself, like you were sixteen again, tangled up in late-night conversations and inside jokes only the two of you understood.

But then the recognition in his gaze flickered, replaced by something unreadable. His lips parted slightly, as if he might say something, but one of his friends nudged him, pulling him back into their conversation.

Just like that, the moment was gone.

Jisung flopped back into his seat across from you, looking way too pleased with himself.

“You’re welcome,” he said, stealing a fry off your plate like he hadn’t just set your entire nervous system on fire.

You exhaled sharply. “What the hell was that?”

“That, my dear emotionally constipated friend, was me helping.”

“Helping?” You let out a dry laugh. “You just made things worse.”

Jisung shrugged. “Felix was gonna notice you eventually. I just sped up the process.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, willing the heat in your face to fade. “He didn’t even come over.”

“He will.”

Jisung said it with so much confidence that it made your stomach twist. You hated how much you wanted to believe him.

But Felix didn’t come over.

He didn’t even glance in your direction again.

By the time you left the caf��, your chest was tight with something ugly, something close to regret.

It was raining by the time you got back to your apartment. The kind of rain that made the world feel heavier, pressing down on your shoulders, making everything colder than it should be. You should’ve gone inside. Should’ve let the door click shut behind you and drowned out the thoughts swirling in your head with a shitty TV show or an assignment that was due way too soon.

But instead, you found yourself standing on the sidewalk, watching as the city blurred under the downpour, feeling the way the damp air clung to your skin.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there.

Long enough for the streets to empty. Long enough for the rain to soak through your hoodie. Long enough for a voice—his voice—to cut through the storm.

“What are you doing out here?”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned.

Felix stood a few feet away, hood pulled up, blonde hair sticking to his forehead. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes—still made something in your chest crack open, something you had spent too much time trying to bury.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, you asked, “What are you doing here?”

Felix shifted on his feet. “I saw you leave the café.” A pause. “I thought you might—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

But it did.

It mattered more than anything.

Because despite everything, despite the months of distance and unspoken words and aching silence, he was still here.

Still chasing after you.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself hope.

The rain drummed against the pavement, a steady rhythm that filled the silence stretching between you. Felix shifted slightly, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to step closer or turn around and walk away.

You should’ve said something. Anything. But your throat felt tight, like every word you had swallowed over the past year was lodged there, refusing to come out.

Felix sighed, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. “You always did like the rain.”

His voice was softer than you remembered. Or maybe it had always been like that, and you had just forgotten the sound of it when it wasn’t filtered through a phone screen or echoing in your head late at night.

You swallowed hard. “Not really.”

His gaze snapped back to you. “What?”

You forced out a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t like the rain. I just… I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like the only thing that makes sense.”

Felix studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step forward, just enough for you to see the way the streetlights cast shadows under his tired eyes.

“You’re mad at me,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

You let out a slow breath, pressing your lips together. “I don’t know what I am.”

Felix exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

You felt your fingers twitch at your sides. “For what to happen?”

His jaw clenched. “For us to become strangers.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to.

You turned away slightly, staring at the water pooling in the cracks of the pavement. “You didn’t mean for it to happen, but you let it.”

“I know.”

There was something in his voice—something close to regret, or maybe guilt—but you didn’t know if it was enough.

“Then why are you here, Felix?”

Silence.

You finally looked back at him, heart pounding. He was already watching you, his expression guarded, but there was something raw in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just—” He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I saw you leave. And suddenly, nothing else felt important.”

The rain blurred the edges of everything, made the world feel quieter. It was just you and him, standing on the edge of something that had already fallen apart, something that could never go back to what it was.

Your chest ached.

“That’s not fair,” you whispered.

Felix’s breath hitched. “I know.”

And yet, neither of you moved.

Because despite everything—despite the pain, the distance, the silence—he had come back.

But you didn’t know if it was enough.

Not this time.

The rain didn’t let up. It soaked through your hoodie, clung to your skin, made everything colder than it should be. But none of it compared to the chill settling in your chest as you stood there, staring at Felix like you were still trying to figure out if he was real.

If this moment was real.

His words echoed in your head. I saw you leave. And suddenly, nothing else felt important.

It should have meant something.

It did mean something.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because if he had really cared—if you had really mattered—he wouldn’t have needed a reminder. He wouldn’t have let you drift so far away in the first place.

Felix shifted again, eyes darting across your face like he was searching for something. Some kind of answer, some kind of permission to step closer, to fix what had already cracked beyond repair.

“I never wanted to lose you,” he said

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

Felix flinched, like he hadn’t expected you to say it out loud. Like he thought you’d keep pretending that everything was fine—that this wasn’t breaking you in ways you didn’t know how to fix.

His mouth opened, then closed. His fingers twitched at his sides, restless, uncertain. He looked like he wanted to take a step forward, but he didn’t. Maybe because he knew he had no right to.

“I never wanted to lose you,” he said, voice barely audible over the rain.

Something sharp curled in your chest. You let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “You say that like you didn’t let it happen.”

Felix exhaled, frustrated. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did,” you shot back, the words slicing through the air between you.

A beat of silence. Felix’s brows knitted together, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked down at the wet pavement, like the answer he wanted was somewhere between the cracks in the concrete.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, heart pounding against your ribs.

“You didn’t even try, Felix.”

He looked up then, eyes searching yours like he could find a different truth hidden there—one that made this easier, one that erased all the months of distance and silence. But there was nothing. No way to rewrite what had already happened.

“I did try,” he whispered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

You stared at him, rain dripping from your lashes. “No, you didn’t.”

Because trying wasn’t just sending a late-night hey, hope you’re doing okay text after weeks of silence. Trying wasn’t brushing off missed calls with sorry, got busy. Trying wasn’t letting you feel like you were the only one who cared enough to hold on.

Trying meant fighting for you.

And Felix hadn’t done that.

Felix had let go.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

That made something in you snap. “Are you serious?”

Felix blinked, startled by the edge in your voice.

“I needed you, Felix,” you said, each word trembling with the weight of everything you had never said. “I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

His face twisted in something close to regret. “I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t ask.” The rain filled the silence that followed, a steady, relentless downpour.

Felix’s gaze fell to the ground, his shoulders slumping under the weight of it all.

“I miss you,” he admitted, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

Your breath caught in your throat.

God. You had waited so long to hear those words. Had imagined them in so many different ways, in so many different scenarios where things still had a chance to be fixed.

But now?Now, it was too late.

You let out a shaky breath, eyes stinging. “I miss you too.” Felix looked up at you, something raw and desperate flickering across his face. “Then—”

“We can’t go back.”

It hurt to say it. Hurt even more to watch the way Felix’s entire expression shattered.

But it was the truth.

Because even if you missed him, even if you would always care, you couldn’t keep breaking your own heart waiting for him to choose you first.

Felix sucked in a breath like he was going to argue, like he was going to find some way to fix this—but then he stopped.

He saw it in your eyes.

This was the end.

Felix nodded once, barely perceptible. His lips parted, but whatever he was about to say died before it could reach you.

And then—just like that—he turned and walked away.

You watched him go, rain soaking through your clothes, through your skin, through the hollow spaces he had left behind.

You had spent so long being afraid of losing him.

You never realized he was already gone.

Even as Felix disappeared into the rain, you stood there.

Frozen.

Drenched.

Ruined.

The streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, stretching toward the place where he had just been. Like even the world itself was reaching for him. Like even the universe didn’t want to let him go.

But you couldn’t chase him.

Not this time.

You sucked in a deep breath, but it didn’t feel like enough. The air was thick with something heavy—regret, grief, the ghosts of every moment that led to this. It settled in your lungs, made it impossible to breathe.

You wiped a hand over your face, but it was pointless. Your tears mixed with the rain, indistinguishable from one another. Maybe that was a mercy. Maybe if you stayed out here long enough, you could convince yourself that you weren’t falling apart, that the cold biting at your skin wasn’t loneliness, that the ache in your chest wasn’t the shape of him.

But it was.

It had always been him.

And now, for the first time, you had to figure out who you were without him.

You forced yourself to move, every step heavier than the last. By the time you made it inside your apartment, your limbs felt like lead. The door clicked shut behind you, but the silence was unbearable. Suffocating.

Your phone buzzed on the counter.

For one stupid, hopeful second, you thought it might be him. That maybe, just maybe, Felix would still fight for you, even after everything.

But it wasn’t.

It was Jisung.

Jisung (11:47 PM): You okay?

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but what were you supposed to say? No? I just lost the most important person in my life? I don’t know how to be okay without him?

Instead, you typed out the safest lie you could manage.

Y/n (11:48 PM): Yeah. Just tired.

You stared at the message, then shut off your phone before Jisung could respond.

Because if you saw another text asking if you were okay, you might actually break.

You moved on autopilot, peeling off your soaked clothes, dragging yourself into the shower. The hot water burned against your skin, but you barely felt it. Your hands pressed against the tiles, head hanging low, eyes squeezed shut.

You had done the right thing.

Hadn’t you? Your breath shuddered out of you.

If it was the right thing, then why did it hurt so much?

The water kept running, steam curling around you, but it didn’t wash anything away. The ache sat deep in your bones, untouched, unmovable.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, forehead pressed against the tiles, listening to the steady rhythm of the water hitting the floor. Long enough for your fingers to wrinkle. Long enough for your mind to spiral back to every memory you had tried to bury.

Felix laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners, head tipped back like he had never known a bad day in his life.

Felix waiting for you after class, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world.

Felix on your bedroom floor at two in the morning, telling you about his dreams like they were something tangible, something he could hold in the palm of his hands.

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Always him.

And now, never again.

You sucked in a sharp breath, forcing yourself to move. The shower was supposed to help, supposed to make you feel lighter, but when you stepped out, you only felt emptier.

You went through the motions.

Towel. Clothes. Lights off. Bed.

But sleep didn’t come.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, rain still tapping against the window like it refused to let you forget what had just happened. Like it wanted to remind you that Felix had stood in front of you, close enough to touch, and you had let him walk away.

Your phone buzzed again.

You didn’t check it.

Couldn’t.

Because if it wasn’t him, then that meant he had really let you go.

And if it was him—if he had reached out, if he had found the words that had been missing tonight—then you didn’t trust yourself not to answer.

Didn’t trust yourself not to fall apart all over again. So you turned your phone face-down and let the silence swallow you whole.

The next morning, you woke up feeling like you had spent the entire night drowning.

Your head ached. Your body was heavy. The space beside you in bed felt too cold, even though Felix had never been there, even though it wasn’t his place to fill.

Jisung was waiting for you at the café, two cups of coffee already sitting on the table.

He took one look at you and sighed. “Yeah, that bad, huh?” You sank into the chair across from him, rubbing at your temples. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Jisung snorted. “That’s cute. You think I’m giving you a choice.”

You shot him a glare. “Jisung.”

“You,” he shot back, mimicking your tone. Then he leaned forward, expression softer. “Just tell me, did you at least say what you needed to say?”

You hesitated.

Because what did that even mean?

Had you told Felix how much he had hurt you? Yes.

Had you told him you still loved him, even now? No.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the coffee cup. “I said enough.”

Jisung watched you for a long moment, then sighed. “Okay.”

He didn’t push. Didn’t tell you that “enough” wasn’t the same thing as closure.

And maybe that was why you had always loved Jisung in a different way. Because he understood when to fill the silence, and when to just let it sit between you.

But you also knew him too well to miss the way his eyes flickered with hesitation before he spoke again.

“So,” he said, dragging out the word. “You didn’t check your phone this morning, did you?”

Your stomach twisted. “Why?”

Jisung winced, like he already knew how this was going to go. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and slid it across the table.

You stared at the screen.

At the text from Felix.

At the words that made your entire world tilt.

Felix (3:12 AM): I’m sorry. I should’ve fought for you. I should’ve fought harder.

Your breath caught. Jisung shifted, watching you carefully. “So… what are you gonna do?”

You didn’t know.

Because Felix was too late. But you weren’t sure if your still even heart cared.

[mattslolita]

sweater weather - c. sturniolo

in which ... you, the well known popular girl secretly hooks up and hangs out with the loner dealer. ( dealer!chris x black!fem!reader )

warnings ; mild mentions of alcohol, partying, drug use, eventual smut

"𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

he watched you.

from the sidelines of course, careful not to blow his cover — a blunt was laid at the edge of his lips as he watched you interact with your friends, your dimples prominent with the way you smiled and your brown skin glowing under the lights as you moved your hips to the music playing.

chris knew you were popular around campus, having had many friends because of your bubbly personality and the way you seemed to get along with everyone — which is why it truly shocked him when you started coming to him for weed.

you wanted to keep it on the low, which he definitely understood sure you liked to have your fun with drinking — but doing drugs wasn't something you were exactly proud of.

but chris never judged you.

usually after a party like this, you'd nonchalantly disperse from your friend group and send him a text, hoping you could meet him somewhere where you guys would drive off and smoke with each other.

tonight was no exception either, as you felt yourself becoming overwhelmed — chris could sense it as he watched you say something to your friends, beginning to slink away from them.

he grinned knowingly, running a hand through his hair as he took a hit from the blunt and slowly made his way outside towards where his car was parked, which was a ways down the street as not to draw attention to his presence.

you had successfully walked outside of the stuffy house, being able to catch your breath finally as you looked up at the moon which shone overhead — you smoothed your mini skirt and pulled your baby blue top up more, shivers going down your spine when the cold breeze hit you.

you reached inside your purse and pulled your phone out, immediately pulling up your dealer's contact name.

y/n🫀❗

hey, did u come to tha party ?

chris🍃🧡

yeah, i'm bout to leave tho

y/n🫀❗

can i leave w you? if its okay w you

chris🍃🧡

you know its okay w me, ma

you liked this message!

a smile adorned your lips, figuring that would be his response anyway — your roommate would probably have her boyfriend over, so you were hoping that you could slick side ask him to stay the night as his place.

you took one more look at the house before heading off down the sidewalk, towards the alleyway which seemed like it was somewhere he would park. and you were proven right when you seen his car engine turn on, the familiar black vehicle giving off a low rumble as you grinned.

quickly you ran towards the passenger seat, feeling your skirt ride up a bit but you didn't care, thankful there was no one outside to look at you — you opened the door and hurriedly slipped inside, a giggle leaving your lips as you close the door behind you and relax into the seat.

chris looks over at you with an amused smile and raised eyebrows, holding the blunt in his hand out to you. "whatchu so giggly for, ma? you have any fun tonight?"

"i'm kinda tipsy, and i had fun!" you giggled again, tilting your head to the side slightly as you looked at him, waving the blunt off for now. "did you have any customers tonight?"

"just a few people," he shrugged, taking a hit from the blunt and blowing the smoke. "I'm glad you had fun though, cause i know shit's been fucked lately."

you nodded and looked down, playing with the hem of your skirt — chris knew about your family issues, which you ended up opening up to him about. it was also partly the reason you had decided to start smoking weed, cause you figured, maybe it would help you to take your mind off of things.

chris lifted your chin up with his index finger, swiping his thumb over your jaw causing butterflies to form in your stomach. "you wanna go smoke now, ma?"

"yeah," you nod with a smile, and he nods at you, pulling out of the alleyway.

his hand then goes to rest on your thigh, drawing circles around your plush skin, which caused tingles to shoot through your body — even after the times you've hooked up with him, you would never get used to the feeling of his skin on yours and how much it brought a comfort to you. a lazy grin found itself on your lips as you looked out the window, the breeze carrying through your locs as he drove on.

"i'm hungry," you tell him suddenly, glancing over at him, "can we get somethin to eat?"

"of course, sweetheart," chris tells you, "what you in the mood for?"

"i really want a twenty piece from wendy's and some rootbeer," you told him, and he chuckled at your answer.

"they only come in tens, baby," he said, and you pouted, throwing your head back in frustration.

"i guess imma order an extra ten on the side then!" you decided. "ooh, can i play some music? its too quiet for me."

"it better not be that depressing ass playlist you sent me the other day," chris warned you, his eyes flicking to you momentarily.

you giggled and lightly smack his arm, reaching for the aux cord. "no, okay? this is my shit, i'm finna put you on. i bet you don't have this song in your playlists, either!"

chris just shook his head at you, his hand continuing to rub comforting patterns on your skin — you scrolled through your playlist until you found the song you were looking for, a small grin overtaking your features as you clicked on it.

cherry cola by kuwada flowed softly, and you let out a content sigh as you relaxed and sat back in your seat comfortably — chris didn't know you liked songs like this, and he found himself liking the melody as it was peaceful, the perfect kind of music you get stoned to. when he stopped at a red light, he looked over at you to see the lazy smile that adorned your lips as you lip sang the lyrics, your head moving ever so slightly.

soon, chris pulled up to the wendy's drive thru, and you clapped your hands excitedly as he pulled up to the loud speaker. "hello, what can i get for you tonight?"

"can i get a ten piece meal then an extra ten piece on the side?" he speaks, and you watch as he rubs his chin and you almost melted at the way his blue eyes shone from the fluorescent light.

"what sauce would you like for the nuggets?" the worker asked, and chris looked at you for your answer.

"um, barbecue," you nodded, then he repeated what you said.

"okay, and the drink?" he asked.

"rootbeer, please," chris asked, and you placed a small kiss to his cheek, pulling away with a grin.

"okay will that be all for you?" he asked once again, and you seen chris's eyes rove over the menu again.

"can i get a baconator combo, large?" chris said, "do you guys have pepsi?"

"unfortunately we don't carry pepsi," the worker said, and chris tsked causing you to rub his back comfortingly.

"i'll just take a lemonade, then," chris told him.

after completing the order he gives him his total and they drive up to the window — you went to grab your purse so you could pull out your share of money for your food, but chris was already handing him a twenty.

you rolled your eyes at the boy. "chris, you didn't have to pay for my food!"

"you right ma, i didn't," he told you, leaning over the middle counsel to whisper in your ear, "but i wanted to. so shut that pretty mouth and stop worrying about me spoiling you."

he placed a kiss just below your ear, causing you to bite your lip at the contact and slink back in your seat.

after getting your food, chris drives off and you get back comfortable in your seat whilst holding the bag that contained both of you guys' food, and you could feel the warmth of the bag radiating onto your exposed thighs.

chris pulled up to his house, but the only available parking space were two spaces down, so he hurriedly backed the car into the space and cut the engine.

you took your heels off, which were hurting your feet and you bought them up into the seat, positioning yourself comfortably as you turned to face chris with a cheeky smile.

"okayy, here's your food," you said, handing him one bag, then giggling as you bought yours closer to you.

"you always get so excited about food," chris chuckles, and you give him a look of disbelief like he was crazy.

"boy, food comes before anything, best believe that!" you told him, and he just shook his head, reaching into his bag of food.

it didn't take you two long to eat, but you were disappointed cause this meant you had to make your way back to your own dorm — you honestly wanted to spend the night with chris, but you were scared to ask for some reason.

a light tap on the window gained your attention as you finished the last sip of your drink — a tiny water droplet hit the car's window pane and one drop soon turned into multiple.

it was raining.

"shit," you mumbled under your breath, glancing over at chris, "i think i'm gon head out now."

"you sure ma?" chris asks you, motioning to the rain which was now coming down, "we don't have to yet."

"i'm pretty sure you're tired, and it's late as fuck," you shrug, and you ran your hand up your arm in an attempt to warm it.

"if you say so..."

you quickly get out of the passenger seat and are immediately greeted with droplets falling onto your skin, causing you to shudder as you let out a gasp.

chris notices this as he walks up to his doorstep — he deliberately takes slow steps, watching as you begin walking in the other direction quite slowly.

"wait!"

chris turns around upon hearing your voice. you turn to face him, now being almost soaked — you being walking back towards his house. "my roommates having her boyfriend over tonight. can i stay here? with you?"

he steps away from his doorstep as you approach him, and you could see his breath create smoke as he lets out a sigh — he grabs your waist, pulling you close to him causing you to look up at him through your lashes as your cold bodies are pressed against each other.

"it's too cold for you out here," chris whispers, his breath fanning your ear, "come inside, baby."

you allow him to pull you inside of his home, the rain soon forgotten about as the warmth of his home now encompasses both of your bodies — and his lips press against yours feverishly.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

sigh i got lazy and decided to not make a part two😔

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333 @pinksturniolo @middlepartmatt @livelovepercabeth

[allmonstersxarehuman]

Just The Way You Are

A/N: Just a tiny thing to help me warm up on writing again. It sucks, but again I am still working on trying to get back to the place I once was when it comes to writing. Not edited so I am sure there are a lot of mistakes. My apologies.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Chubby Fem!Reader

Warning: MDNI! Talks of being insecure about weight, a bit of adult content, Chan being whipped for reader. Reader learning to be comfortable with her body with Chan's help.

(Also, sorta based on his bed selfies)

“You know you’re making stays go crazy right?” You laughed walking out of the bathroom your hair still wet. “Huh?” You boyfriend looked up at you like he didn’t know what you were talking about. “Christoper, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” You roll your eyes walking over to where he sat on the bed, he threw you a smirk his dimple on display, Chan grabbed your hips his hands rubbing up and down. “It was purely innocent.” He said hands lowering to your naked thighs, his eyes looking you up and down. “You look so beautiful in my shirts.” He said hands lowering to your naked thighs. You blushed and ran your fingers through his curly hair, his eyes instantly closing at the feeling. “You say that all the time.” You laugh light and then rolled your eyes again. “Plus, technically they aren’t your shirts, you don’t even wear them. They are ones we both bought for here because I’m too big to fit into your actual shirts.” The last part came out as a soft whisper, but Chan definitely heard you. His eyes were closed tight, and his jaw clenched before tonguing his cheek and looking at you with sad but dark eyes. He hated when you talked about your body negatively or even compare your size to others.

You moved away from him and sighed running your fingers through your still damp hair. “I already know what you are going to say. But Chan we both know it, I’m just learning to accept that I’m bigger than other girls.” You gave him a soft smile. “I’m learning love myself because of you. You have been a big part of that, you are also a big reason why I’m taking better care of myself including my body.” You said softly. You explaining this to him made him feel a bit better but he still hated that you saw yourself differently than how he sees you.

To him you are the most beautiful person in the world, you are his world and he didn’t care what your weight was. Of course to some people it seemed like a cliché thing to say that he loved you no matter what because he loved you for being you, your personality, the way you didn’t see him as Bang Chan of Stray Kids you saw him for his goofy and workaholic self. He loves the way you were with the kids, he loves that you understood that even though he rather be with you 24/7 that he also loves what he does, and he loves the way you understand his love for Stays. He’s just so in love with you.

You bit your lip running your fingers through his hair. “Hey dreamer what’s going on in that head of yours.” You said softly. He realized he got lost in la-la-land Chan looked down his cheeks starting to warm and let out a short and quiet chuckle before looking back up at you and grabbing your hips and pulling you close. “I was thinking how lucky I am to have you, how much I’m so incredibly in love with you.” He smiled his hands sneaking up your shirt and rubbing your sides. “How about I show you how in love I am with you. Yeah?” Chan stood up turning you and picking you up with ease, the action made you let out a surprised squeak and setting you softly on the bed before his lips brushed against yours as he climbed over you. “My beautiful girl. Perfect for me, beautiful lips, beautiful eyes, beautiful and sexy body and your sweet pussy fits perfectly around me. It’s like you were made just for me, my special angel. I’m all yours and you are all mine, and I wouldn't change it for a thing. Will you let me love you and make you feel good?” He said softly his lips brushing over your lips to your neck. One of the things you loved about Chan is that he always asked permission, even though you told him he could have you whenever he wanted. “I’m all yours.” You said softly before attaching your lips to his.

[hsgucci94]

Office hours

Summary: Harry Styles is your part-time boss and full-time boyfriend, which makes office hours interesting.

Word count: +2k

Content warning: fluff and sexual content and more fluff (m receiver)

masterlist

"I need these tasks by the end of the day, you think you could do that? They are urgent.” Your boss, Mr. Styles, asked you, standing against the doorframe of your office. You momentarily looked up to see the small pile of files in his hand, right before looking down at your computer screen and nodding with compliance.

"Sure. I'll start once I'm done with this."

"Good, thank you.” He flashed you a funny smile.

He found the sight in front of him quite endearing. You were so focused on whatever it was on the other side of your computer screen that your nose scrunched and the glasses that rested on top of it looked like they would slip off anytime soon. Although you were in no hurry to put them back up again.

Harry used your lack of attention to his advantage and proceeded to look behind him and around the corridor before entering your office and closing the door behind him. He left the files on one corner of your desk and walked over to your side. His hand stretched enough to grab the armrest of your chair and pull you to him, his body flexed forward so that your faces were at the same height. He had now fully entered your field of vision and the playful smirk on his lips told you he was up to no good.

"I'm working...,” you mumbled.

He chuckled, "So? It's not like l've never stolen a kiss from you at work."

You shook your head, smiling, and indicated for him to move forward.

He definitely did not make that cheeky move for just a kiss, but he was getting just that until your working hours were done.

There was no way you were risking it.

He might be your boss and so your chances of getting fire for something like that were void, but your reputation was just as important. And no woman who hooked up with her boss gave off any good impressions in the business world.

Harry did as indicated and closed the space between you two. He pressed his mouth to yours in a sweet and slow kiss that made you all giggly. Nothing quite like the touch of his lips to forget about all the excels and transactions that still required your attention. In that precise instant you wished you could give it all of it to him. Push your work aside and give all your attention to him.

When he pulled away, he had a big smile on, one of those that showed his adorable dimples, which were enough for you to want to keep on kissing him until your lips became red and sore. But you were at work, and anyone could come in at any moment and find out about you two.

That would be a disaster.

Ever since you started dating some months back, almost a year now, you knew your relationship had to be hidden or your position at the company would be compromised. Not because relationships between colleagues were forbidden, but because you had to maintain a standing that was worthy of respect, and if people knew you were involved with your boss in any kind of way, it'd be very difficult for you to do so. Harry understood that, and so he made sure to make things easy for you at work most of the time. Today being an exception, apparently.

"Let me know when you're finished. I'll be in my office waiting to drive you home," he spoke, and kissed you on your cheek before walking out of the room.

Funny how he expected you to get back to work and concentrate as if nothing after an interruption like that.

By 9:30 p.m. you were finally done. All your tasks for the day were completed, so you grabbed your purse and the folder where you always saved important files, and made your way to Harry's office.

The entire floor was empty. You two were the only ones remaining there, which was the main reason why his door was fully open.

You were about to knock on one side just to inform him you were ready to go, but stopped mid-way.

His face had that one frown he did whenever he was on his peek of concentration. The first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned; the knot of his tie undone, meaning he had been a bit under pressure for the past couple of hours.

You stayed there a few seconds, quietly taking in the image in front of you, until he noticed your stare. He smiled before lifting his face to look at you. "All done?"

"All done," you nodded and walked towards the couple of chairs that were in front of his desk.

You left your purse and the files he had previously asked you for on his table. However, instead of taking a seat, you played your uno reverse card and walked behind him. When his back was to your chest you dug your fingers on his shoulders strategically to help him release the tension you knew he was feeling. He closed his eyes almost right away, finally relaxing after a long exhausting working day.

You had barely seen each other except for when he stopped by your office, not even to grab lunch or a coffee together, but you two preferred it that way to not arose suspicion.

"I've missed you.” You passed your arms around his shoulders and placed a suggestive kiss to his cheek.

"You have?" he murmured a bit distracted, finishing typing a few things on his computer. However, no matter how busy or caught up he was in his work, he could always tell your needs and intentions. He then put the screen down and turned his body around on his swivel chair so that he could face you.

You nodded, and proceeded to sit on his lap, your legs hanging on one side of his waist. You passed an arm around his shoulders, holding yourself to him, and took the chance to play with the curls on his nape.

The palms of his hands rested on your lower back and the outside of your thigh, pulling you to him, and it didn't take you long to kiss him, this time allowing your tongues to take part. The time of the day where you two reunited and shared your company had arrived, and neither of you liked to waste any second on getting as close as possible.

So you didn't.

Your fingers buried in the back of his hair, slowly pulling at it, and when a small moan escaped from his lips you realised you got the desired effect. You moved from his lips to his neck, dragging your mouth down his exposed skin, causing him goosebumps.

"Love...," Harry warned, as you felt him getting hard under you.

"Shh," you replied, kissing him on the mouth again, this time with even more desire.

Your hands soon traveled down his shirt and cautiously rubbed his crotch, causing another moan to scape from his parted lips.

You started unbuttoning his shirt from bottom to top, until he was completely shirtless in front of you, a few of his tattoos showing off for your eyes only.

He gulped, and then grabbed you by your elbow, stopping you. By the way he was looking at you, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks blushed and his mouth slightly opened, you knew he was feeling needy.

"No games, Y/N" he mumbled in a pleading tone, meaning he wanted you to keep going only if you were willing to go all the way till the end. He was in pain, and as much as he liked when you teased him, he physically couldn't get up and leave his office just like that, not after the boner you had caused him.

"I know, baby. I'll take care of it," you assured him, and started leaving kisses on his chest and all the way down to his waist, where you unbuttoned his suit pants. He slightly lifted his hips so that you were able to pull down both his pants and boxers in one go, which ended up at his feet. His pretty thighs were uncovered in front of you and, like every time you had seen them naked, you had the urge to kiss them. They looked so strong but soft at the same time...

"Love, please" Harry begged you, needing you down there as soon as possible.

"I'm going... I'm going, baby. Let me just enjoy your thighs a bit first," you replied, giggling. He silently nodded and closed his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of your lips against his skin rather than his aching erection.

You left small wet kisses all over them, your lips softly touching his skin, while he held his breath with every touch. He liked it a lot whenever you did that, it always turned him on, but his crotch needed you so bad right there and then that he was not being able to enjoy it as much.

Noticing his desperation, you soon replaced your lips with your hands and positioned yourself between his thighs, right before looking at Harry and giving him a quick glance, letting him know you were going in. He nodded, closing his eyes and tensing a bit until he felt your lips around him. You sucked on his sensitive skin while his eyes remained closed, his hands tightly grabbing the armrests to his sides, small moans coming out of his pink lips whenever he was not biting at them. If he continued to do so he would make himself bleed.

He was not very into talking or praising while doing intimate stuff, but his body language made sure to speak on his behalf. You were always able to figure out how he was feeling, if you needed to speed it up or slow it down, just by the way the muscles on his body tensed and his chest and hips raised.

The moment you felt his thighs trembling and his abdomen contracting, you knew he was ready to come. You gave a squeeze to his knee as an indicator for him to release, and soon enough your mouth was filled with his liquid.

"Fuck," he cursed, tilting his head back and fully resting it against the back of his chair. You gulped down the remains of him. An overwhelmed smile slowly made its way to his lips. "Fuck, baby. That mouth really does wonders." You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words of fascination. "Don’t laugh, it’s true. C'mere."

"Don't know if wonders is the word, but this mouth can definitely get you off."

"You wanna know what else it should do right now?" You rose both eyebrows, wanting him to continue. "Kiss me."

You shot him a giddy smile.

You quickly helped him get cleaned up and dressed again, and then he grabbed you by your waist and sat you astraddle on his lap, where he pressed your mouths together as soon as your faces were close to one another.

You stayed there, your arms around his shoulders while his where around your back once again; your face hidden in the crook of his neck as he kissed your hair every now and then, until it got pretty late and it was time for you both to go home.

You started making your way to the exit, leaving his office behind as you walked down the hallway.

"Come sleep at mine?" Harry softly asked you. His strong hand held yours, while the other grabbed his briefcase. You turned to see him. "I wanna be able to hold you all night," he continued, and graciously pulled at your arm to bring you to him so he could mischievously whisper in your ear: "Maybe even return the favour and make you come tonight."

"Mm-hm," you nodded, stupidly smiling against his neck as you accepted the invitation.

Please, like & share if you liked it? it’ll help so much 🥺✨ thanks!! x

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[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 7

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After you kissed Tyler on his livestream, things between the two of you only continue to develop. Word Count: 3169 TW: Flirting, Kissing, Developing Feelings, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

You weren’t sure how long you and Tyler remained seated in the front of his truck with your lips pressed against each other, but far sooner than you would have liked, you heard Boone shouting from outside, “Hey, love birds! You’ll wanna see this!”

Reluctantly, you broke away from Tyler, both of you panting slightly as you gazed at each other. Then he winked before undoing his harness and climbing out of the truck. You took a deep breath, unhooked your own harness (after a momentary struggle), and opened the truck door.

The winds still rustled gently over the field as you eased out of the truck, your feet standing on the running board as you leaned against the door. About 100 yards in front of you, the tornado continued to twist and twirl through the grass as it made its way away from the truck. Now that your initial fear of driving into it had passed, you were really able to appreciate the magnificence and raw power of the towering wall of wind. It truly was a wonder of nature and you understood why people came from all over just to experience this moment.

You, Tyler, and Boone continued to watch the storm until it began to collapse several minutes later. The death of the tornado was in some ways just as beautiful as the raging storm itself. And as the last of the funnel disappeared, leaving nothing but dark clouds and a band of rain where it had once stood, it felt like a spell was broken as the world around you exhaled.

Looking at you from the other side of the truck, Tyler grinned. “Well, sweetheart, what did you think?”

“That was fucking amazing!” you cried as you jumped down from the truck. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life! Oh my god, Tyler, thank you!” 

As you reached him, you threw yourself into his arms, squeezing him tightly and burying your face in his neck. He laughed as he twirled you around and you could feel his heart racing in his chest, fueled by the same adrenaline that was flooding your system. 

When he stopped, you lifted your head. He was staring right at you, his green eyes sparkling like the stars he had shown you the night you met, his smile so wide that his dimples were on full display. You had never seen someone so breathtaking and full of life before. It was intoxicating.

He must have been thinking the same thing about you.

Tracing his fingers down the side of your face, he murmured, “What are you thanking me for? Chasing the storm…or the kiss?”

You licked your lips as you stared at his and whispered, “Both.”

“Good.” Tyler bent his head down until his mouth just barely hovered over yours. “As long as there’s no regrets.”

“Just that we waited so long to do this.” And you pressed your lips against his. 

You were still kissing when you heard several vehicles pull up beside you. You looked up to see Dani, Dexter, and Lily leaning out their windows, cheering and catcalling as they watched you and Tyler. 

Tyler took a step towards them, his hands raised, “All right, all right. Y’all had your fun.”

“Looks like you two did too,” Dani smirked as she held up a tablet and hopped out of her van. 

“I’m sorry we kind of ruined your video,” you said, sinking sheepishly into yourself.

“Ruined it?” Dexter chuckled. “We already have more views after twenty minutes than most of our videos get after being posted for a month.”

“Really?” You reached out to take the tablet from Dani so you could look, but she drew it into her chest.

“Um…you might not want to look at the comments.”

Your smile evaporated as you looked around at each of the Wranglers. “Oh. But I thought you said…”

Lily hesitated, fiddling with the goggles she just pulled off her head. “They liked the video but some people are just a little…” She hesitated as she struggled to find the right word.

Dani snorted, “They’re jealous. Tyler’s fangirls weren’t too happy seeing him swapping spit with the pretty new girl while they had to just sit there and watch.”

“Oh,” you blinked. That was not the answer you had been expecting.

Tyler placed his hand gently on the back of your arm. “We can go through and delete those comments and make sure everyone knows we don’t stand for that kind of stuff on our page.”

You shrugged. “Let ‘em talk.”

“Really?” Tyler asked, his brow furrowing under the brim of his cowboy hat. 

“Yeah,” you grinned. “If the cost of me getting to do this is a little online hate, I’ll gladly pay that price.” Then you planted another big kiss on his lips. 

Tyler wrapped himself around your waist and the next thing you knew, he dipped you backward, his muscular arms the only thing keeping you from crashing to the ground. It felt like a scene straight out of a romance novel. The Cowboy and the College Girl. 

Yet this was better than any romance novel because it was real. Tyler was real and he was kissing you and it was everything you had wanted since he drew you into his chest as you cried under the stars in the back of his truck the night you met. And you never wanted it to end.

Everyone was hungry after the morning of excitement so Dexter ducked into the camper van and reappeared several minutes later with a plate of sandwiches and individual bags of chips. Everyone else grabbed folding chairs from their vehicles, but Tyler lowered the tailgate of his truck, sat on the edge, and pulled you into his lap. You were a little uncomfortable at first, being so brazen in front of the rest of the crew, but you quickly settled back against his chest as you ate. Already, you felt like you just fit perfectly in his arms and you couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across your face as you chewed.

The other Wranglers exchanged a few looks and soft snickers, but they didn’t say anything. It was only as everyone was finishing up, that Boone addressed the elephant in the field. 

“So, is this gonna be a thing now?”

“Boone—” Tyler’s voice had a slight warning edge.

His friend held up his hands. “I don’t mean nothing by it, I’m just wondering.”

Before Tyler could answer, you leaned back so you could look at him directly. “You know, I’d like to know the answer to that too.”

There were a few ‘ooo’s’ from Dani and Lily, but Tyler ignored them. Holding your gaze, his green eyes shining with open sincerity, he said, “How about I like you a lot and am excited to get to see where this goes?”

“Yeah, I’m good with that.” He leaned down and gently kissed you on the lips. When he sat back up, you smiled. “You know, I’ve never been with a Southern cowboy before. It’s already been such a big change having a guy come pick me up each morning or walk me to my room every night.” Nudging his side, you added, “You might regret that because I’m starting to expect it.”

He grinned, his dimples on full display, and dipped his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

You settled back, snuggling into him as his arms tightened around you. 

“Aww!” Lily said. “You two are so cute together!”

“Yeah, just be careful you don't invite him in when he walks you to your room,” Dani teased.

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Everyone else started laughing but you had clearly missed something. “Um, why shouldn't I do that?”

Tyler sighed. “It’s nothing. They're all just idiots.”

Boone grinned at his friend’s annoyance. “Tyler said back in his rodeo days, the whole circuit traveled all over the country for competitions, staying in cheap motels like we do now.”

Dani leaned on Boone’s shoulder and picked up his story. “And whenever they’d hire a new girl to travel with ‘em, they’d warn her ‘don’t invite one of the cowboys into your room unless you plan on him spending the night’.”

“I never should have told y’all about that,” Tyler grumbled under his breath. Louder, he said, “It’s been a running joke since then. Even though it’s not true—” he shot Boone and Dani a sharp glare, and they held up their hands “—they never let me forget it. But I’m perfectly capable of going into a person’s room at night and leaving before the next morning.”

“Oh, so you’re love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy,” Dani said, nodding. “Nice.”

“Fuck you,” Tyler growled, tensing beneath you. It was obvious Dani was just teasing, but you had gotten to know Tyler well enough to know respect and courtesy meant a lot to him. And even just the insinuation that he might not treat you the way you ought to be treated hit a nerve. 

Placing one hand on his thigh, you gave it a tight squeeze. His face had lost all of the happiness it had just a moment ago, but you gave him a warm smile, hopefully reassuring him you knew the kind of man he was. 

Then, you turned back to the rest of the Wranglers. Popping a chip into your mouth, you asked, “So…any of you ever invite Tyler in just to test out that theory?”

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Lily spoke up. “No…but he does share a room with Boone.”

Boone’s head shot up at the sound of his name. He had started fiddling with his camera when things got tense between Dani and Tyler, so he blinked, clearly trying to figure out what he had missed. Then, with a huge smile, he exclaimed, “Oh yeah! Ty and I always share a room. Sleeping with a friend is much better than sleeping alone.”

There was a pause before everyone burst out laughing. Boone looked around, not quite understanding the joke. As the conversation shifted into poking fun at Boone and the other Wranglers’ sleeping arrangements, Tyler pressed his lips into your hair, just above your ear, and whispered, “Thank you.” 

You could already feel the tension easing out of him and you squeezed his leg again in acknowledgement. After all the times you had leaned on Tyler for support in the last few days, it felt nice to actually be able to do something for him for a change. 

The rest of the afternoon, you rode next to Tyler as the crew looked for another storm to chase. Boone had made some excuse about needing to talk to Lily about the quality of their live stream so he rode in her van. You weren't sure whether that was his idea or Tyler’s, but you weren’t complaining about having a bit of alone time with the lead Tornado Wrangler. 

It seemed now that the line had been crossed, neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves. The confined space of the truck cabin along with the restrictive nature of your seat belts limited your methods of contact but you still found ways around those obstacles: While Tyler told you about growing up in Texas, you nodded along as you trailed your fingers through his hair. While you explained what you were going to school for and what you wanted to do after graduation, he smiled and played with the strap of your tank top. While you both discussed your favorite movies and music, your hands were linked across the center console. 

By the time Tyler pulled into a motel for the night, your body was aching for more of him. At one point, you had to force yourself not to squeeze your legs together or let out a soft moan as he rested his hand on your bare thigh just below the frayed cutoff bottoms of your shorts. Yet you couldn’t stop your toes from curling in your boots as he began absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in circles over your skin. As soon as you got the key to your room, you were going to have to take a very lengthy cold shower.

But it wasn’t just the physical moments that had your heart racing as you climbed out of the truck. There was never a moment of awkward silence or uncomfortableness, just effortless, engaging conversation and laughter. You had learned so much more about the cowboy and every little new thing just made you like him all the more. 

After Tyler helped you out of the truck, he left to book the rooms for the night. You unloaded a few of the bags out of the back—including your own—and looked around. Strangely, you didn’t see the faintest trace of Storm PAR. None of their vehicles were in the parking lot and you couldn’t spot a single one of their signature polos mingling around in the crowd of people settling in after the day of chasing. 

Hopefully something hadn’t happened in the field today…

“Hey.” You turned to see Lily approaching, holding out a piece of paper folded into a small square. “I saw Javi when we stopped for gas. He asked me to give this to you. Said Storm PAR is staying on the other end of town tonight.”

Think of the devil… You took the paper from her. “Did he say why?”

“No, but I sort of got the impression he was in a hurry to get back to his truck so I didn’t ask.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

As Lily walked away, you opened the note. The handwriting was a bit sloppy and hard to decipher, almost as if it were scrawled in a hurry, but you read:

He’ll deny it, but Scott watched today. Might want to keep your distance for a while.

You smiled as you reread it. Yeah, Scott probably wasn’t too happy to see you locking lips with Tyler and you were sure to get an earful about that at some point, but Scott had watched the stream. Maybe it was just so he could say he told you so and rub it in everyone’s face if you chickened out, but you couldn’t help but think—hope—that he might have been watching because he was worried for your safety. Could it be that your big brother cared about you after all?

“What’s got you so smiley?” 

You looked up and held out the note for Tyler to see as he got closer. “You might want to avoid my brother for a few days. Seems he caught our little make-out session this morning and I have a feeling if he didn’t hate you before, he does now.”

“I’m not worried. I can handle Scotty.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in, twisting you so your back pressed against his chest. Then he rested his chin on your shoulder. “But how are you feeling about him seeing that?”

“I’m…good. When I first got here and came up with this stupid plan, I would have been thrilled that he saw us. I would have tracked him down and rubbed it in his face just to see his blood boil. But now—” you tilted your head and nuzzled it against Tyler’s “—I don’t care what he thinks or how he’s reacting. I don’t want to waste any more of my energy on him. I just want to focus on us.”

“Hmmm,” Tyler hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. “‘Us’. I like the sound of that.”

“Not too presumptuous?”

“Not at all,” he said, tightening his arms around your waist. “I’d be more than happy to be part of an us with you.” 

The two of you remained standing by Tyler’s truck, swaying gently wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes. You would have stayed there all night if you could, but the adrenaline of the day began wearing off and you struggled to keep your eyes open. Reluctantly, you whispered, “I think I should be heading to my room.”

Tyler nodded against you. “Would you like an escort?”

“Always.”

He gave you one final squeeze before releasing you. Then he grabbed your backpack from where you had tossed it on the ground earlier, and he threw his other arm across your shoulders. Walking with your head resting on his chest, the two of you made your way across the parking lot and up the stairs to your room. It was becoming a familiar routine but this time the walk seemed too short and, in no time, you were standing in front of your door. 

You opened it and turned to face Tyler. “Thank you for everything today. The storm a-and us.”

He reached out and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone. “I’m just sorry I waited. I shoulda kissed you the first night after I walked you to your room or when we were lying in the back of my truck. I knew then that I wanted there to be an us.”

“Me too.” Pressing your forehead against his, your eyes fluttered closed as you whispered, “Why does it feel like I’ve known you for years when it’s only been three days?”

He hummed back, “I don’t know, but I feel it too. Like...you’ve always been here with me. Is that crazy?”

“No. It’s a bit sappy but also romantic as fuck.” 

Tyler snorted, the brief burst of air tickling your nose. Then he whispered, “I should go.”

You nodded, opening your eyes. You didn’t want him to leave but the intensity and speed at which your feelings for him were developing almost scared you and you knew inviting him to stay was not what was best for either of you right now.

Yet as he reached for your hand, you pulled it away. With a sly smile, you said, “Uh uh. Tonight, I want a real kiss goodnight.”

Tyler grinned, flashing his dimples. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 

Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he pulled you into his lips. Though the two of you had been kissing throughout the day, none of them had been like this. There was a heat, a fire burning under his skin that had never been there before. He pressed into you, his body flush against yours, and you couldn’t hold back as you moaned into his mouth. All of the need you had been feeling in his truck came rushing back, and you could feel the tension already building in your core. 

But just as you began maneuvering so you could grind against his thigh, Tyler pulled back. You gasped at the sudden loss and looked at him, mouth agape. He just smiled and whispered, “Think of me tonight, sweetheart. I know I’ll be thinking of you.” Then, he was gone.

For the third night in a row, you went to bed cursing that son of a bitch who was quickly stealing your heart.  

Part 8 coming 9/30!