#(otherwise…it’s miserable directing.)

[snekdood]

if me not being fake nice all the time is the reason ppl generally avoid me then whatever. id rather not walk around with a liar as a face.

[ddollipop]

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. oc carrd! — click here to find more information on lucian + other original characters of mine that i might write for in the future! xx .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

[ozzgin]

Hi!! Your writing it truly lovely 😭<33 If i could request anything with Zzy? Thank youuu

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader (II)

Featuring the goat-legged boy Zzy and a gloomy, newly employed detective Reader! By the way, his name is a little tribute to a series I like. Can you guess who inspired it? Hint: it's Jhonen Vasquez's first comic :D

Content: female reader, perverted goat demon yandere, dark/crass humor!, monster romance, mildly NSFW

[Part 1] [Monster masterlist]

The detective man, at the very least, kept his word. The pay is good, and you barely have any work to do. The jobs themselves are similarly not too challenging: so far you haven’t had to deal with any murder mystery out of an Agatha Christie novel. Rather, most of the time, it’s someone asking you to investigate their cheating partner, or sending you to do a background check for an employee. Every now and then you’ll get the odd client, but that’s something for another day.

Your boss isn’t all that bad either. You were initially quite hesitant to be alone in the room with him. He always seems to be surrounded by an eerie, dark aura, and you’ve only seen him smile in a menacing, villainous way. Now you’ve gotten used to his strangeness. In fact, it’s almost comforting. There’s something refreshing about another human being honest about their misery. He seems to be just as uninterested in this job as you are, spending most of his time reading at his desk. Despite his unkempt, scary appearance, he's pleasant enough and looks after you. Which, now that you think about it, is a little suspicious. You've seen him act around other people: curt and to the point, disinterested, even potentially rude. With demons, he's ruthless.

"Have you had lunch yet?" the man asks, standing up and dusting his knees. "I can get us something."

You nod and flash him a flaccid smile, although you can't help but ask:

"Listen, aren't you being a little too nice? I mean, I'm not complaining...but I've seen how you behave in general, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason for my special treatment."

He ponders your question for a moment, before his sunken eyes look ahead, somewhere behind you.

"Well…If I’m being honest, you’re kind of pathetic, aren't you? I’m just a little worried that if I’m too harsh, I’ll find out you hanged yourself in your apartment or something. Not that I’d care, but if you’re gone, I’m the one stuck with…that thing.”

Ah. That’s what it was. Almost immediately, a shiver runs across your spine.

“(Y/N)! Are you done yet? I’m booooooored”, a prolonged whine erupts from the neighboring chamber.

“I’m about to have lunch, actually. Do you want any-”

“You know I do! Spread those legs and I can start”, the goat demon declares with a grin, clacking his hooves in your direction.

You sigh.

Of course. Months ago, you were tricked into signing a lifelong contract with Zzy. It was the detective’s way of washing his hands off the matter and warmly welcoming you into the agency. It makes sense that he'd treat you with utmost care, otherwise he'd have to deal with this pest from Hell once again.

How's your life with Zzy going?

You've since found a way to seal your bedroom, in order to avoid waking up with his groping hands under your sheets. Sadly, the stubborn creature keeps finding ways to bypass your safety measurements. Who would’ve thought that lust is such a powerful driving force?

On top of the nightly shenanigans, you obviously have to deal with him during the day, at the agency. “Listen, it’s like…one of those fidget toys. It helps with stress”, he explains fervently while pointing at your chest. “You want me to do my work properly, don’t you?” He concludes theatrically. “You’re not holding my boobs. This is the end of the conversation.”

If you’re having a bad day, it won’t go unnoticed. “Boy, what a smell, what a delicacy. You’re even more miserable than usual”, Zzy will exclaim, throwing his hands together in a graceful prayer. “You know what the best medicine is? A quick fuck. Let me pound that sadness out of you, eh?”

Despite his constant clowning, the demon does have moments of clarity. He becomes particularly serious when jealous. “What have you done?” You shout in despair, gawking at the client - now morphed into a pig - foaming at the mouth and running around the room. “He was staring at your ass. Only I can do that.” The horned man stands proud, arms crossed, nodding at his own courageous act. His most treasured belonging has been defended once more.

As expected, the jealous curse has gotten both of you into time-out. Zzy because he cursed the client in the first place, and you - despite your protests - because you didn't stop him in time. "Can't you wear something easier to take off? It takes two business days to unbutton this crap", the demon complains as he fiddles with your shirt. You're laying on the sofa, hands behind your head, gazing at the clock on the wall and counting the minutes passing. Unbothered, compliant. The peacefulness of someone who's given up. "Zipper is to the left", you add, aiding the process.

Another irritating detail is that the damned beast can detect the slightest arousal coming from you, and will make sure to announce it loudly, regardless of who is around. "Someone's horny! Whew, getting me all worked up, too." You slap a hand over his mouth, a deep red blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks. You turn to the detective and apologize profusely, but he remains unconcerned, flipping another page. "Let me take care of her first, Mr. Detective", Zzy manages to mumble through your pressed fingers. "As long as you get the task done", your boss responds plainly, never bothering to look up from his book.

"You should visit me down there sometimes", the horned creature suddenly mentions, his head resting in your lap as you idly browse your phone. You stop to glance down at him. "In Hell, you mean?" He snickers at the thought. "No one believes me when I tell them I have a human girlfriend. I need concrete proof, ya feel me?" You raise an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?" He disregards your inquiry and continues: "At least give me a pair of your panties to take back home." Absolutely not.

"Were you this much of a menace before I showed up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?! You can't blame a demon for being in love."

You sigh once more and roll over.

"Does that mean we can go for round two~?" Zzy is grinning at his own suggestion.

"Just go to sleep. Or something."

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “INTERLOCK YOUR LIPS WITH MINE.”

#. — synopsis. imitating that of a lamb with his love-sick actions should’ve gotten anyone sick to catch the slightest glimpse of his foolish grin, yet he’s way too blind to plainly realize that when his nimble fingers are so tenderly intertwined with yours, isn’t he?

#. — content warning! woah, barely any and none at all. first kiss, lots of kissing, tongue n shit, away from prying eyes, frottage, dry humping, obsessive — male kylar, ‘angelic’ male reader and well, fuck. some pining and yearning as per usual, mostly on kylar’s part.

#. — word count? 3.5k.

#. — asher, please. shut the fuck up. : “shitty tribute to the loser who made me discover this sick ass game. your reward? a tongue deep down your throat, you little whore.”

Evidently speaking, the last of things Kylar should be gleefully content about is the undeniable fact that here you are, sat atop this cushioned mattress due to your sheer brashness, impulsivity that had landed you both straight into the nurse’s office. Or perhaps, you had initially intended for precisely this to happen, so that he may naturally tag along with you.

Confidently raising your hand amidst an important lesson in class, falsely claiming that the quivering freak here, miserably suffered of a stomach ache as if he truly had one, huh— carefully roping the poor boy in another one of your clever, little schemes. Immediately tugging onto one of his used sleeves with an innocent expression of your own, how you so seamlessly fool the teachers is beyond him, really.

Though, he does get the slightest idea that it’s either from your shockingly pristine reputation that others are inclined to openly favour you or, the angelic gaze you prettily bless anyone with when gazing in their direction. Easy to delve further into sinful temptation, including your boyish charms if a mere flutter of your eyelashes and quirk of your rosy lips renders someone so stupidly dumb like— well, him. And others, too. Forgot that unnecessary part.

A liar is how he intricately knew you best, after all. Not necessarily a widely spread title you should’ve worn proudly, but hey, who’s he to possibly complain when it meant he could finally, spend some much-needed, well-deserved quality time with his one and only, beloved? Even if through somewhat unethical means entailing that of muttering out plain falsehoods which coincidentally had long since then, slipped past his forgetful mind. No, who’s he to blame himself when you did it firstly, and he simply followed suit to your patient guidance? Imitating that of a lamb with his love-sick actions should’ve gotten anyone sick to catch the slightest glimpse of his foolish grin, yet he’s way too blind to plainly realize that when his nimble fingers are so tenderly intertwined with yours, isn’t he?

Easily distracted by your soothing presence dizzyingly close against his, discreetly hidden amongst the draped curtains that surrounded your sprawled frames within the otherwise desolate room. Save for you two and the absent nurse who’s somehow conveniently away on some unintended business in some other class closely residing nearby. And, ah— truly, you smell so fuckin’ good.. Would it be so bad if he were to subtly close the remaining distance between you both, steadily draw closer to sneakily steal a whiff of your pleasurably sweet scent?? Yeah, no. Damn it, Kylar— Get ahold of yourself. Surely, that’s borderline immoral if not downright creepy to satisfyingly indulge in your depraved instincts simmering beneath this carefully fabricated mask of timidness he’s built over himself. But.. It’s not like you’d actually notice, right?

Ah, who’s he kidding. Was this not your original plan to begin with? Sparing you and him, a moment of solitude to yourselves, the eerie, yet somewhat tranquil silence that had easily settled onto you two, majorly concealed by the rhythmic thudding of his pounding heart deep within his chest. The things you do to him, truly.. Which hopefully, you hadn’t caught ear of that humiliating display of his pure want for you, if not already, obviously shown by the blazing flush adorning the entirety of his face and, not to forget that one minute detail— aching cock securely tucked away beneath his ripped jeans, dying to be coated by the welcoming, warm heat of your tight hole. Hah, even your soft palm would do, at this point, really— he means it.

And if not for the noticeably sweet hitch in his breath when promptly interrupted by a single question you dote upon him, fluttering lashes and glimmering eyes so innocently peering up from below him as though you’re stupidly unaware of the intended effects you possess over the depraved freak. A mere command wistfully whispered out from your lips would be all he needs to readily obey in turn, but he manages to with some measly restraint lazily placed upon himself, in favour of listening to your ushered curiosity.

“Say, have you ever kissed anyone before, Ky?” Simplest of questions, really— that would require an affirmative response of either yes or no, yet he finds himself unable to properly answer when faced with that subtle tilt of your head. ‘Course you’d be crudely conscious of whether or not he had done so, wouldn’t you? Unless you’re dumbly feigning ignorance to the undeniable prospect that he is seen as nothing more than undesirable by most and rightfully so, actually.

Anyone who truly attends the local school of Oxford would’ve grown painfully aware of the humiliating fact that this loser, right here, could’ve been nothing more than a miserable virgin because who the hell in their right mind — would possibly want to lay their untouched hands, much less their precious lips upon his own? Not necessarily a factual rumour that realistically bothers him since it simply means he gets to solely concentrate his energy on you; His loveable darling, right?

Quick to frantically shake his head in retaliation to the uttered query, more or less due to the increasingly pleasurable realization as to why you’ve originally dragged him along here in the first place. You.. ah, you intend to grace him with a blessing of your own, surely so? Grant him the chance of a lifetime and graciously allow him to breathlessly press his chapped lips against your own unblemished ones. How he has desperately longed— no, yearned to do so for ages and here you are, selflessly offering yourself up to him like the sweet fruit of sin a feathered breath’s away from gratefully being savoured by his drooling maw. Yeah, he’s definitely not hurriedly jumping off to conclusions from the sole, albeit indiscernable hint that you idly inquired him with a hyper specific question tumbling forth from your lips, right? This is definitely not just some make-belief fantasy his fogged up, deluded mind dreamily decided to suddenly make up, right??

“N-No, I’ve.. never k-kissed anyone— before.” He replies, breathless and shaky. Voice quiet, small, sounding barely audible to the ears. Embarrassingly enough, stuttering off in his stifled speech, strung up in a series of incoherent nonsense he wishes to truly express. Scalding warmth creeping up the sides of his skin, spreading out like a wildfire out of control — to the point where he can feel the scarlet flush of red extensively growing all over. Mainly a question of his own as to why it’s him of all people you’re lovingly in contact with right now, tenderly clasping your hands together in an affectionate hold.

Ah, right— is this seriously happening? Not only is he preciously embracing you within his fragile grasp, but you’re also willingly choosing to peer so intimately close to him like this? Considering your well-beloved status, held in high regards by the entirety of the school, openly revered by the same students who don’t dare to glance twice in his direction nor accept him for his nervous oddity— it’s an.. interesting choice on your part. Not that he’s complaining, not at all!

However, he’d like to know if you had, before him. Anyone else who could’ve stolen such a gesture meant to be happily cherished, preserved for the right person who’d somehow come along. A person which he hopes is himself when it comes to you, curious eyes meeting your own underneath the mess of a fringe he doesn’t bother to brush out early in the morning. Tentative bite of his swollen lip, soon becoming bloody in the anxious act of chewing upon the sensitive flesh.

“Um… Have— Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Redirecting the spotlight onto you, maybe to soothe the growing anxieties burrowing deep within his pumping heart, anticipation dizzyingly occupying him in a held breath when awaiting for your eventual response in return. Honestly, if you had.. He wouldn’t entirely know what he’d do then.

“Me? Hm, no. I haven’t either. I’m saving it for a special someone.” Special someone. Yeah, that’s all his sluggish brain hazily registered from that answer, solely fixated on who— wait, could it be him? Are your coy, little hints subtly being dropped here and there, discreet glances sent his way when accompanied by the aversion of your eyes in a slight display of shared nervousness, meant for a loser like him of all people? That serene smile you habitually wear though is making the whole ‘figuring out’ part a bit difficult for him. And, as properly known by most, specially when he repeatedly echoes out to the school that you two are ‘boyfriends’, unaware of your fragile status at hand — he’s not exactly the best at picking up on subtle social cues being decisively shot towards him, either.

“O-Oh, so you’re.. You and I are the same.” Probably shouldn’t be gleefully filling him with such giddiness to know no crooked bastard didn’t steal your precious first kiss, solely meant for him, but it still does. Familiar, manic grin cracking upon his face, eagerly tugging at his lips the same way his shaky hands come to invasively paw along the hem of your school shirt. Lightly tussled with the tailored collar scandalously coming undone, just for him, right? And, he’s soooo lucky to be the only one to gaze upon you in such a disheveled state, least, he hopes so.

“That’s right, we’re the same. Isn’t that funny? Me, being the same as you — of all people too, but y’know.. that doesn’t really bother me actually.” If that was intended as an insult cruelly shot towards him then, the entirety of the punch-line or hinted implications thinly veiled at hand, had gone over his blurring head. No, no— all he’s acutely aware of is that here, the both of you are, in an otherwise isolated room without the annoyingly probable possibility that someone might mindlessly walk upon your perched frames, catch you in the.. uh, yeah, the act. Act of kissing.. each other?

Or, is that impulsively moving a tad bit too far? As much as a clumsy ditz he can be, at the worst of times too, this must mean something, no? Like the mere gesture of hastily hauling him along to the nurse’s office, a shitty excuse you promptly made up on the spot, to grant you two some privacy isn’t just originally meant to be spent for idle chatter, surely so? Simply fiddling his thumbs together won’t aid him in finding out either, so he might as well.. ask.

Swallowing down thickly the anxious lump annoyingly residing deep within his throat, skittish eyes evasively avoiding your sharp gaze boring into his own to at least, somewhat calm himself before precisely asking the lingering question that’s been hanging heavily upon his mind. That— well, god.. he’s never been really good with words, has he?

“Why’d you— Why did you lie to the teacher about me having a stomach ache and bring me here then?” Good. That’s pretty direct, isn’t it? Save for the droplets of sweat quickly accumulating along the edge of his forehead, noticeably trickling down the length of his heated cheeks as if it wasn’t painfully obvious enough on its own what a nerve-wracking mess he suddenly becomes within your presence. You’re just so— so… shit, he can’t possibly describe it! All he desires is confirmation at the moment, confirmation for your mutual sentiments towards each other.

“Oh, cmon. Don’t tell me you’re that clueless, are you?” Well, yes. He is. Subtle cock of your head, sweetest chuckle he’s ever heard along with that rather innocent smile you adopt when asked your self-evident intentions here. “Wow. You really are, huh. Isn’t it obvious? Why do you think I went through all the trouble of coming up with a little lie for you, give us some alone time together? I’m not that nice to anyone.”

Recognizable smile effortlessly shifting to that of a smirk, feathered breaths alarmingly close against his burning face as the distance between you both progressively shrinks down to barely any space entirety. “You see.. I need a bit of reassurance to soothe my anxieties, y’know. What I want is for you to prove your love to me. Right now.”

Thumping heart steadily increasing at an alarming rate, scarred fingers nimbly picking and fiddling with the loose threads hanging along his used hoodie. Prove his undying love to you? “P-Prove it?” Audibly gulping down before echoing out the previously uttered command. “How should I prove it?” Oh, anything. He’s willing to do anything for you. Without hesitance nor objection. Hell, you could ask him to jump off a building, and he’d do it in a heartbeat. Just — for the love of god, say it already — say what he needs to do to selflessly prove his inborn devotion precisely made for you.

“Kiss me.” Uttering it out so effortlessly, breathlessly and well, he’s not one to make you sorrowfully wait, is he?

Nodding vigorously, like the lovesick puppy that he is for you — already peering closer towards your sprawled frame in a held breath, slightest hitch and rhythmic thump! of his heart when he’s selflessly granted the opportunity to finally, fucking finally — steal your first kiss away from you.

And, hah— truly, he’s so grateful for your direct orders, y’know? Because without it, he’d basically be a sweating, quivering mess, not that he isn’t either, just that — his nimble hands, normally shaking with second-guesses wouldn’t be so confident in their movements, tenderly cupping at your smooth cheek within the cup of his palm as he breathlessly presses his needy lips upon your awaiting own. Oh. Oh, fucking god, how dizzyingly sweet you taste, a full-on body shudder immediately descending the entirety of his arched back, instantly bending forward to pin you down onto the squeaky mattress underneath you both.

Careful not to make the smallest of sounds however! Wouldn’t wanna be caught sloppily making out with the most popular student in school, or maybe he does.. Just to— ah, prove to those repulsive creeps shamelessly salivating over the mere sight of your figure, that you’re strictly off limits. His alone to greedily savour. Mine. His mind endlessly echoes as this continuously carries on, and he’s not one either to selfishly complain, is he?

Love you— Love you so much. Repetition drumming along his brain, however, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing off the bat, not when you two were so desperately clinging onto each other like this. Fervently locking your lips together in a soundless kiss, hitched breath threatening to slip past yours if Kylar were to go any further — probably would though. Bad idea, yeah. Knew it was, but the mind numbingly good haze gradually washing over him as you both mutually caved in to your instinctual desires drew him in. Since it feels way too good to intimately be pressed against each other like this, openly whining down one another’s throat currently occupied by his. “I-I love you.” He murmurs, gasps against your mouth. Slick, wet tongue desperately sliding against his own, crudely sharing each other’s spits that yeah— he’ll probably be reminiscing upon later for certain.. purposes meant to be shared in an unoccupied stall of the school’s bathroom, pervertedly fisting his fat cock to the sheer memory of your addictive taste like a starving man, an utter freak.

Unable to help himself with the borderline pathetic whimper freely drawn out of his mouth, eyes easily slipping close to hungrily drink in yours too — rather subtle, faintly audible to the naked ear, but he still manages to catch it, catch the stifled whine, minor tremble in your perfect fingers instinctively finding themselves entangled within the mop of loose hair on his head. Tugging at the dark strands even, ah fuck.. His arms, already wrapped around your frame, tightening automatically to make sure you don’t somehow, escape from his clutched grasp. As if you could with the death-grip he’s withholding over you right now, practically digging in the white material of your school uniform, ruffling it all up for you to harshly reprimand him for later — not that it’s his actual initial concern here, really. Oh, if anything, he’s got something way better pleasurably keeping him busy.

“K-Kylar—“ Your incoherent mewls are just the cutest, y’know? Yes, yes, he’ll briefly apologize later for rudely cutting you off! But, something simple as a kiss when done with you, feels so fucking good — fuck, he might as well be cummin’ in his pant, which he sort of is with all the accumulated pre-cum messily dripping from his leaking tip, staining the elastic fabric all sticky in his ill-fitted jeans from precariously grinding your clothed erections together, seeking friction.

His hips involuntarily thrusting forward, or maybe intentionally — truly he’ll never admit to it! — instantly flushing at his salacious actions that, oh.. you’re a blubbering mess under him, heaving chest rhythmically puffing out before ultimately descending down to shakily exhale out a sigh. Cutest, erect buds blatantly visible underneath the rather thin fabric of your uniform, ones he’d like nothing more than to sloppily drool all over, savagely suckle on with a wet pop! of his tongue and leave his slippery mark there like some sort of— of, fucking madman.

Fuck, fuck fuck… if this keeps up, he’s bound to cream in his pants from a single kiss! Eyes automatically rolling to the back of his skull with every eager tug on his ripped sleeves, cock profusely leaking out slippery, warm pre to leave behind a trailing mess in his boxers. So fuckin’ whipped, downright enamoured by you that he’d be dying a happy man simply from having his longtime wish fulfilled, hidden desires fervently reciprocated by a lock of your lips upon his. All because of you — hah, you, darling. Don’t you realize the weight of his unending love for you by now?

Unfortunately though, as much as it would’ve been thoroughly appreciated to contentedly continue on like this, paired by the couple of gasping moans and wistful sighs collectively drawn forth from each other’s lips; One had to eventually be the one to pull away and you, of course, you were the first to reluctantly do so, drawing back slightly in a sloppy attempt to create some much needed space between your quivering bodies. Disheveled hair carelessly brushed aside to display the scarlet flush of your cheeks accompanied by dazed eyes hidden beneath the fluttering of your lashes.

Nearly whimpering when you effectively slip back for air, clutched fingers instinctively chasing after your retreating figure as though he was merely nothing without it. Which, he sort of is, pleading gaze and pouty lips sinfully directed to your decisive move, slumping back miserably once you’re out of his clawing reach. “A-Ah, don’t go.. I mean! Was — Was it good? Did I do okay?” He asks sheepishly, pink tongue experimentally swiping along his bottom lip to lick it clean, wild, green eyes flicking downwards to your kiss-swollen lips before hurriedly darting away. Seeking for your judgement and approval as per usual. How typical of him, huh.

“You— ah, you did, actually.” Catching your breath, looking so damn pretty when your usually flawless composure is crumbled along with his. He wants to break it till you’re a crying mess, really. “God, I didn’t know someone could kiss like that. You sure this is your first time, Kylar?” Don’t tease him like that! ‘Course it is, how could it ever be anyone but you??

“Y-Yeah, you’re my first— first kiss.” A confirmation to your question, meek nod of his head as he now wonders what exactly is there left to be said after such a heated encounter, but as always, you’re the one to make the first move — a step ahead of him every single time and, honestly, he loves you for it.

“Wanna kiss me again?”

Who’s he to not oblige to your every whim anyway? He’s only Kylar. The school freak. Absolute loser in town and the one you’re also, pervertedly sharing spit with too.

Guess he won’t have to creepily suckle on the tip of the chewed straw from your strawberry milkshake you normally sip at during lunch then. Since his lips will find themselves far more busy with something else later.

And by the sultry look you adopt, regarding him carefully with a quirk of your lips — he’s getting the slightest idea that maybe, his time will be better spent in the nurse’s office from now on, hasty kisses sneakily shared underneath the cooling shade of a sapling, arms eagerly looped around your waist to steal a quick kiss of his own. Whether in the tight space of a bathroom stall or the dusty storage closet, he’s content to have you in his arms no matter the place.

So, this time, don’t be the first to pull away— no, he’d hate to have to pin you down beneath his weight for you to properly take what he has so selflessly prepared for you today, ‘kay?

It’d be only be rude to deny him of what he’s patiently waited so long for like a good boy, no?

[shiny-jr]

damnation (peek VI?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: I was looking back at previous sneak-peeks and I realized I've been kinda spoiling y'all with these. But, don't ever let it be said that I don't cherish y'all, so here you go. While I'm currently about 2/3 of the way towards completing the result (if I don't have to rewrite it or change scenes or do anything major), the sneak-peek is only about eight or nine pages. Which is still a lot when you consider that the end result will be anywhere from 42 to 45 pages. Let's hope that I continue writing at this steady pace. I will not give a date for when this is fully completed, so please don't ask! It's done when it's done.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD

Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a helmet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing? 

“Wh– Where am I…?”

As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you took note of your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone. 

Skull-crushing could still be on the list of possible ways to die. Or would your punishment be isolation? Complete solitude was known to drive people insane. It didn’t even seem like a single soul alive was here, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing in the otherwise unsettling silence. White flowers from large vases wilted, their petals suspended gray and limp like hanged bodies.

On the floors you nearly slip and hit your head, but you manage to grab a nearby column that was as thick and sturdy as an old oak tree. That’s when you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby huge vase coated with a reflective exterior. You were staring wide-eyed at an unfamiliar figure, so odd that it took a moment to register that it was truly you. 

A long black cloth with dark blue meander borders acted like a shirt or a robe, wrapping over one shoulder and extending in different directions to act like a small cloak and cover part of your legs. From your hips to your ankles covered by part of the top cloth, were a pair of black pants with more blue meander borders decorating it. They were like modern day sweatpants and an ancient palla all in one outfit, which you might’ve admired if you weren’t currently filled with confusion and dread. That metal object on your head was like a headpiece, with two long thin black protruding pieces slicked back that glowed a slight blue. Like a demon’s horns. Impossible to remove. 

You resembled a demon with these horns, a devilish little imp. When your eyes adjusted, the reflective surface of the vase was painted. Painted black and browns, like the famous Athenian ceramic styles with figures of black and brick red. Except, each vase depicted a different scene. A powerful muscled figure standing proudly and holding a bolt of lightning; a baby strangling two large snakes; a young scrawny man training beside a satyr and a pegasus. 

“Get– these off…!”

An imp… you were an imp! Horror spread across your features, and the constant tugging to remove the metallic horn-like objects from your skull served pain stronger than a slap, to let you know that this was no dream. The judges had cast the final verdict, and as soon as you arrived you were destined to live as a miserable little creature to serve a higher being. A god. 

A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic god had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented. 

Maiming, wringing their necks, burning them in blue fire, those were just some of the torture those imps faced at the hands of their master. You felt yourself fall to your knees in a heap, like a rag doll, by the overwhelming emotions weighing in your mind and the now new burden of survival on your shoulders. This was hell, literally. So caught up with this newfound revelation, that you didn’t even notice the vases become blank as if by magic, wiping the depicted scenes off their surface. Hallucinations! 

These must’ve been hallucinations formed by your unstable mind–– You were especially sure of it when it felt as if the ground vanished beneath your feet and were surrounded by dark mists. The dark and elegant place you had once stood in, was gone, and you plunged into a dark pit. A small plunge, then you fell on rocky uneven earth, leading you to fall flat on your face. There was hardly any light, and the ceiling was low. But, there was a blue flame, a small glow to which you opened your eyes to. 

In front of you was a young boy that looked more akin to an android. Surely, another illusion, but your certainty wavered when it blinked at you. It blinked with its wide bright yellow eyes. Its eyes were like a light, as was its hair made of what seemed like real blue flames that was like a torch in this small cave. Its body was dark and metallic, part of those metals extending over the mouth like a mask. “There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you chickened out. Are you ready to put on a show? Remember, we gotta make it believable, the hero won’t be the only one there! We gotta trick all the humans!” 

“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike. 

Whatever this thing was, its voice became monotone for a brief few seconds as its pointer finger landed on the image of a normal young boy. “Selecting… Loading… Finalizing appearance.” In an instant, a light flashed over him and he became that little boy in the hologram. “What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh? Now, your turn!”

If you squint, it was like peering through glass, because at some angles you could still see the android. However, you had absolutely no time to question it, or the situation at hand, or what he could’ve possibly meant, because the quiet was shattered by the squeal of what sounded like a horse. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze through but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rock cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location. 

The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. When in actuality, the accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating–– 

“Help! Hurry! We can’t breathe!” The android boy cried for help, his little eyes peeking out of the same gap you were peering out of. Even his voice sounded different with whatever magic or technology he used to disguise himself. As the hero was running over and a crowd was forming a good distance away, your fellow imp looked at you and whispered in confusion, “Where’s your disguise? You can’t let her see––”

“Get me out…!! Please! Anyone! Someone!” You gasped, suddenly realizing just how small it was underneath this massive boulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t crashed down yet, killing you instantly like rock squishing an ant. But if the boulder didn’t kill you, then the hydra would. And that was what terrified you, causing you to scream for help. 

The young boy’s eyes brightened up, looking a bit taken aback at your volume before he grinned. At least, he must’ve been grinning, judging by the way his eyes lit up. Pausing his very loud pleas, he whispered in amazement, “Wow, you’re really good at this acting!” 

You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist. 

Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a regular little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved. 

Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her shoulders, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––” 

Running. You were running. There was no way you would waste even a second here, and become a victim to that three-headed beast. It sounded like the hero had shouted something as you fled, and were followed by the android boy still in disguise as he called for you to wait up. Climbing, climbing, you took what looked like a thin path on a narrow cliff’s edge until you reached a hollow cavity hidden by shadows and boulders. By then you were out of breath, heaving, the ache in the back of your legs screaming from all that climbing and your lungs burning. 

However, it seemed as if your torment were far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company. 

A figure who sat looking quite bored upon witnessing a mortal with inhuman strength. There were no words, but just by appearance alone you knew that this was the divine god that ruled the underworld. Fire, blue fire, ran from the top of his head down his spine and over thin shoulders. He was covered from neck to toe, completely in robes of dark blues and dull grays. Long sleeves with meander patterns extended to his wrist, and even his bony fingers were pitch black either due to the fabric of a glove or it was his actual skin, you couldn’t tell. The himation, the cloth that pooled on the floor at his feet, was pinned by a brooch resembling a skull. 

Chilling yellow eyes leered down at you, his blue lips pulled back slightly in a grimace to reveal unnaturally sharp teeth on his pale face. Under his judgemental gaze, you felt like a miserable little roach scuttering about underfoot. “This isn’t a theater, and you’re not Dionysus, tryhard. That was major overkill. You screamed so much I heard you loud and clear from all the way up here, pretty sure all those humans heard you.” 

In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Well certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!” 

Brother. But… that couldn’t be possible. Now that you were high up beside the god, Idia is what your partner in crime had called him, you were no longer so fearful of immediately becoming the hydra’s next meal. That wouldn’t happen, especially when according to the story, the lord of the underworld was the one who controlled the hydra. But now you were currently more concerned and fearful of the literal divine being sitting in front of you. The lord’s brothers were only supposed to be other gods from Mount Olympus, not a being that served him. What else was different about the story? More importantly, what would he do to you once he realized that you did not belong?

“Okay, fine. Stirring performance gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.” 

Startled slightly by the new presence, you glanced over, spotting a slightly familiar face looking over the cliff. It was that man who had been accompanying the protagonist. A fairly handsome looking man with brown wavy hair, in a purple chiton and baggy loose gray pants. Again, there was that modern style mixed with ancient, making you question what time this took place in. But that question was so insignificant compared to the rest of your worries, that it would be pushed to the very back of your mind.

Looking from Meg to Idia, you compare the two faces. The God of the Underworld certainly wasn’t ugly, per say. In fact, he was ethereal in his own unique way. It was more of an acquired taste to appreciate the slight cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the dim glow his fire blue hair provided in the dark space. He wasn’t exactly the beauty standard that could be compared to a warm summer day, but cold rainy nights could be just as beautiful. 

“What are you staring at? Can you not? Seriously, don’t you know that’s rude?” The god muttered in a near sneer, his gaze unable to meet yours. In fact, he appeared to be looking anywhere but at you. Like he was nervous. But what would a god have to be nervous about? “When I leave home, I’d rather not be gawked at like some freak. I don’t need another reminder.”

Embarrassment caused your heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.” 

Because you kept your head down, you failed to see all three of them, Ortho, Idia, and even Meg whipped his head around to stare with their own forms of shock as you snapped your mouth shut. There was no room to question what was said and done. 

“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.” 

“I don’t think any of you are pathetic or pitiful.” Ortho chimed in, throwing in his two cents on the matter. To which the god only glanced at. “Shall I search our records for the soul of a successful jester? I believe we may have a few that once served kings in past centuries?” 

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the motion while propping up his elbow on the armrest of the stone throne. “Nah, don’t bother, none of them are that funny anyways. It’s not worth the effort of fishing them out of the river of souls. Once we secure our win, then maybe I’ll consider it when Thalia runs out of jokes to tell.” 

Thalia? Wasn’t that the name of one of the muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus? 

“Uh, you can scram now? I know your soul is probably drawn to the company of other mortals like pretty-boy Meg over there and that schlemiel Heraclea.” Idia scoffed, looking a bit bitter. Although, maybe that was his natural expression along with the constant gloom that seemed to permanently linger around the divine being. He rolled his eyes, murmuring the word so it sounded like an insult, “Mortals.” 

“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.”

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the bite

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at.  “It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.” “And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Summary: steve and robin are your nightmare blunt rotation, you manage to escape a russian lair: mario cart style, you learn that therapy sessions are fun in public bathrooms, steve places your brother on the russian fbi most wanted list, el probably just killed a bunch of people (deserved), and reunions with jonathan are always special when one of you is gravely injured

Rating: general, cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of blood and gore, cursing

Words: 10.1k

Before you swing in: HI IM ALIVE !!! my laptop isnt ,,,, but im trying to ignore that. sincerely apologize for the wait. my laptop shits down randomly every ten minutes and my new one is backordered so ive been fighting demons to write this. i also had a hard time with the bathroom scene with robin. i wanted to get that scene just right. it took a lot of rewriting, but i think im happy with how it ended up <3 pls enjoy this child of mine. she cost me blood, sweat, and tears lmao

-

“Boop!” Steve’s finger pokes your nose and he lets out a delirious giggle. “I booped you!”

At first it was adorable, endearing even, when he booped your nose. However, he’s done this five times now in the last minute alone. That, and you’ve been trying to give Dustin directions back to the elevator while dodging Steve’s surprisingly aggressive nose boops. All while the threat of armed Russians running after the cart looms over you. “Turn left here–would you stop it?”

“Wanna boop that pretty little nose,” Steve’s glossy eyes struggle to find yours, his motor skills delayed and concerning. His left eye has all but swollen shut and you’re still not sure if his unusual behavior is due to head trauma or something else. “C’mere, angel.”

He tries to boop you again, and before you can dodge the attack, Robin’s hand grabs his finger and she lets out a pathetic scoff. “You’re hogging the boops, dingus!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh!”

Steve’s arm reaches over you and he bats at Robin. They start to hit one another, though their movements are slow and weak. They giggle as they fight, and you’re stuck in the middle of it. You try to push them off of you, but the two teens are too busy pinching each other and cackling to pay you any attention. It’s miserable. 

Erica, from the passenger seat of the cart, turns and winces at your predicament. “What is wrong with them?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin keeps his eyes in front of him as he drives, though he’s equally as confused and unnerved. Secretly, he’s glad he’s the one driving. Otherwise he’d be in the middle of a Steve and Robin giggle sandwich like you are.

“Whose hand is that?” You twist around. There’s a foreign body part that’s currently resting on your ass. Steve snickers and Robin puffs out her cheeks and giggles, neither one of them confessing. You’re about to start kicking shins when the cart comes to a screeching halt. The force of it throws you and the two teens back with a painful thud. “Christ!”

“You guys alright back there?” 

Somehow you wind up with Steve’s elbow in your ribcage and Robin’s head smacking into yours. Hissing in pain, you throw the two off of you and glare at your brother. You seriously fear the day he gets his license. “I want to die.”

Dustin turns back around in his seat and gulps. Steve’s and Robin’s own groans of pain can be heard from behind him. “They’re fine.”

Sneakers squeak against the tile floor and the doors to the back of the cart fly open. You’re greeted with Erica and Dustin, eyes wide as they take in the scene before them. You’re squished underneath the teens. You try shoving them off of you again, but they’re dead weight on you. 

“Wanna kiss again, Y/N? I really liked it,” Steve smacks his lips as his head rests against your stomach. “Wanted to do that for so long.”

Your cheeks burn at his words and your stomach flutters. You haven’t forgotten about the kiss earlier. God, you haven’t. It leaves you breathless every time you remember how it felt to have him so close, to smell him and taste him. A part of you wants to ask how long he’s thought about kissing you, but you know that the back of a cart while fleeing from Russians isn’t the most appropriate setting. 

Robin squirms next to you, her head also somehow on your stomach, pinning you down. “Can I get a kiss too?”

“If either one of you kisses me right now, my knives will be the last things you see.” The two teens make despaired noises, which you groan at. Meanwhile, Dustin and Erica continue to stand at the end of the cart, unmoving. You clench your teeth. “A little help here?” 

Dustin mumbles a sheepish apology and yanks Steve’s arm while Erica yanks at Robin, freeing you. As soon as you’re able to, you jump out of the cart and start clapping your hands to speed everyone along. “We gotta go!”

“We’re trying, Y/N!” Erica groans, struggling to get Robin up from the ground. 

You start to help, though you nearly fall when Dustin throws Steve against you. A complaint lingers on your lips, but when you see that your brother is now at the elevator doors with a keycard in his hand, you swallow it down.

Steve, however, is full of complaints. “This sucks.”

You blow hair out of your face and don’t bother responding to him. Instead, you watch anxiously as your brother swipes the key card he must’ve stolen earlier. When the scanner’s light flashes green and opens the elevator door, you exhale with relief. At least something has gone right today. 

After practically throwing Steve and Robin into the elevator with Erica’s help, Dustin hits a button and closes the door. As soon as it shuts, the room starts to move. You brace yourself, now familiar with how fast the damn thing can go.

The elevator ascends at a nauseating speed and there’s a crash behind you. Turning around, you find Robin holding a dolly in place as Steve gets on. He holds his hands out and starts to cheer as his friend snickers. They look like goddamn toddlers at daycare.

“Hey, no!” You feel like a parent, yanking at Steve’s arm to get him down from the dangerous position. The elevator is moving too fast to be messing around on. “This isn’t playtime–”

“He looks like he’s surfing, Y/N!” Robin squeals with excitement, rolling the dolly to the left.

Steve’s body twists and he steadies himself with a laugh. “I’m surfing!”

“Stop fucking surfing!”

You fight with the teens. Steve refuses to get down and Robin keeps rolling the dolly away from you. As you yell at them, Dustin and Erica exchange concerned looks. You overhear the girl mention how they seem drunk, and you’re about to tell her that she might be right, when Robin pulls the dolly from underneath Steve and sends him crashing into the ground. 

“Wipeout!”

You’re checking Steve for injuries as soon as he lands. Dustin kneels next to you and feels his forehead and winces. “He’s burning up.” 

Not liking the sound of that, you check Steve’s pupils. The room’s lighting is dim, but it’s obvious that his brown eyes are almost entirely taken over by the blacks of his pupils. “Holy shit, they’re scarily dilated.” 

“Ow. Thought you liked my eyes,” Steve swats at your hands sadly. He whines, trying to get you to let go of him. “Said you liked brown.”

“I do like brown, but I also like when you don’t act like a three year old.” You soothe him before turning to Dustin. “Any idea what it could mean?”

“Maybe he’s drugged?” Erica suggests.

You frown. “Could explain why he keeps trying to–” Steve reaches up and boops Dustin’s nose. He giggles and your brother looks annoyed. Sighing, you finish what you had been trying to say. “Boop people. Why he keeps trying to boop people.”

“Your turn, angel!”

Dustin intercepts Steve’s finger, which you’re grateful for. He gently smacks the teen’s face to get his attention. “Steve, are you drugged?”

“How many times, dad?” His voice drips with sarcasm and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.”

“Since when do you smoke?” 

“Y/N, focus.” Dustin dodges another incoming boop and swats Steve’s hand away. “This isn’t funny, okay? We need to know what they did to you.”

“C’mon, honey.” Your fingers run through Steve’s hair. Parts of it have dried blood. Something more than a beating happened to him and Robin, you just don’t know what. If they’re really drugged, you have no way of knowing if they’ll be okay, and a part of you is terrified. “Work with us, please. What did they give you?”

“Are you gonna die on us?” Dustin asks, concerned as well.

“I’ll tell you!” Robin shouts from the corner she’s slouched in, eager to please you. She twirls her hair around her finger and gives you an unsettling smile. “We all die, my strange little child friend. It’s just a matter of how… and when.”

Neither you nor Dustin say anything for a few moments. Both of you blink, trying to process what exactly the teen has just said. Afraid to look away from her in case she tries to possess you or something, you slowly nod. “Okay, thank you for sharing, Robin.”

She flashes you a thumbs up and proudly smiles. “Happy to help!” 

“They’re gonna be looking for us up there,” your brother redirects the attention back to the fact that you’re all still very much in danger. He starts to interrogate Steve, trying to come up with a plan. “So I need you to tell me where you parked your car.”

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” Steve’s eyes glaze over and you know you’ve lost him again. 

Robin leans forward and starts playing with your hair. “I would kill for a hot dog on a stick!”

You snap your fingers at the two of them. They’re impossible to level with, you’re not even sure why you’re still trying. “Guys, we need to focus.”

“No! No hot dog on a stick,” Steve suddenly lifts himself up and glares at Robin. “The guy at the counter said that Y/N she has pretty eyes. He’s an asshole.”

“You mean Dave? When the hell did he say that?”

Steve scoffs at you. “Last week. Ruined my whole day.”

“Fine! We’ll get you and Robin something else to eat.” Dustin says, which Robin cheers at, though he ignores her. “But only if you tell me where your car is parked.”

Suddenly Steve’s hazy eyes fill with remorse. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? I don’t like uh-oh, can we not uh-oh?” Dustin nudges you with his shoulder to shut you up and let Steve explain. You mumble an apology. “Okay, why the uh-oh?”

“They took the keys.” Steve shoves his hands into his pockets and reveals that there’s nothing in them. “The Russians, they took the keys. Like forever ago.” For some reason this is hilarious to Robin, who starts to laugh hysterically in the corner. He joins her, amused by the whole thing. “That’s a bummer, right?”

You drop your head in your hands as Dustin sighs. With no keys and no way out of the mall, you’re not sure what else you can do. The only other option would be the bus that takes commuters home, but it comes every few hours and you have no idea what time it even is right now. 

Which means you’d be left with having to hide a very drugged up Steve and Robin in a giant mall swarming with Russian undercover guards for an unforeseen amount of time.

Not ideal. 

“We’re doomed.” You sigh into your hands.

Dustin nods beside you. “Yeah. We’re doomed.”

– 

When the five of you finally reach the mall, you guide everyone through the back hallway and fling the doors open. Fresh air hits your face and you take a moment to inhale. It’s only then that you notice that it’s dark outside. The air is warm, crickets chirp faintly from far away. What day is it? How long could you have possibly been down in the lair? 

As you have a minor breakdown trying to get your bearings, Steve and Robin walk behind you. Their mouths are wide open as they greet the fresh air with glee. “Oh my God, that tastes so good! Steve, can you taste the air?”

They stick their tongues out and marvel at the world around them. “I taste it!”

You watch them with your arms crossed. If you had any suspicion before that they were drugged, seeing them try to eat the air only confirms it. 

“Shit!” Dustin screams out of nowhere and grabs your hand. He tugs at you to start running. You look up and see two Russians men now running straight towards you. 

“Come on!” You grab Erica’s hand and shove her in front of you to run alongside your brother. Then you grab Steve and Robin by their shoulders and all but throw them against the mall’s door. “Go!”

“Why are we running?” Steve mopes, tired from all the physical activity he’s been forced to endure these last few minutes. 

You don’t bother answering him and instead shove him inside the second Dustin gets the mall’s doors opened. Everyone runs, though you’re not sure if anyone has an actual plan. The guard’s footsteps can be heard behind you, and all you know is that you guys need to hide until you can figure something else out. 

“Any chance you guys know any hiding spots?” You shout behind you to the kids, nearly tripping over your feet as you do so.

“No, this mall is one giant public swamp.” Dustin responds, huffing. 

Steve stumbles next to you, still obviously drugged up, yet giggling as always. “It feels like we’re running from movie villains!” 

Turning a corner, what Steve has said floats through your mind. Running from movie villains… What are the odds the Russians know about American movie theaters? They’re dark and usually crowded with people for night showings. It could be the only safe place to hide. 

“Dustin, start heading towards the theater!” Erica and your brother start asking you questions, but you don’t have time to explain. “Just trust me.”

Somehow you all make it to the theater’s doors without being detected. Poking your head through, you make sure there isn’t anyone nearby. When you’re sure it’s safe, you open the door wider and motion for everyone to follow. “Let’s go.”

Dustin guides, dragging Robin behind him while Erica follows. You stay with Steve and start walking once the others have gone ahead. 

“Awesome, movie date!” Steve exclaims with a dopey smile. He’s about to say something else when his eyes find something. Completely forgetting that you’re holding his hand, he runs towards a nearby trash can. He pulls out a bag of popcorn that had been on top of the trash pile and quickly starts shoving the food into his mouth. 

“If you ever wanna kiss me again, stop eating trash popcorn.” You snatch the bag out of his hands with a disgusted face. “I cannot believe I have to tell you that.”

“But I’m hungry.” Steve pouts, staring down at his now empty hands with despair. 

You ignore his pathetic pouting and follow Dustin, who has now flung open the curtains to the theater’s seats. He scopes the area and starts heading right. When he stops at two open seats, he points his finger at Steve and Robin. “You two, sit.”

“But these seats are too close!” Robin complains, and Steve voices his own qualms about the seating arrangements. 

However, you have other things to worry about. Shoving the teens into their seats, you wipe away crumbs on the ground with your shoe. “I’ll sit on the floor next to them. No way I’m leaving them alone when they’re high off their asses.”

Dustin looks at you, skeptical. He doesn’t want to leave you alone with them, afraid they’ll somehow get you into trouble. “You sure?”

“Positive. I’ll take care of them.” you squeeze his arm. While you understand his concern, you can’t bring yourself to abandon Steve and Robin again. Not when Steve’s face still bleeds slightly and Robin’s cheek swells with a bruise. They got hurt because of you; the least you can do is stay with them now. “Find other seats, we’ll be fine here. Just… be careful, alright?”

A man behind you shushes you rudely, reminding you where you are. If the kids don’t leave now, they run the risk of drawing more attention. You push your brother back up the aisle of seats, and he seems to understand what you’re doing. “Fine, but whatever you guys do: Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” 

“Fine, dad.” Steve glares at the kid, which you sigh at. It’s going to be a long night. 

Dustin leaves after you’ve saluted him, and Erica follows. Once they’re gone, you do your best to keep Steve and Robin quiet. As you shush them, you look up and see Dustin standing near the exit. You tilt your head, hoping he sees your questioning, and thankfully he does. He holds his radio up and mimes making a phone call. 

He’s calling for help.

You nod at Dustin, indicating that you understand, and he leaves. After you’ve checked to make sure Erica is still in her own seat at the other end of the row, you turn back towards Steve and Robin; they’re enamored with the movie playing. They whisper to themselves, not understanding what’s happening, but at least they’re quiet and out of danger. Slowly, you start to relax. 

All you have to do is stay in this movie theater until Dustin can contact the party for help. Should be simple enough. Except you make the fatal mistake of absentmindedly mentioning that you’re thirsty. “God, I need water right now.”

“Water.” Robin exhales as if it’s a prayer. Her entire face twists into longing and she hits Steve’s shoulder. “Water. Now.”

“On it!” He nods earnestly and suddenly the two of them are scrambling out of their seats. You snap your fingers at them, hiss whispered threats, but they don’t listen. They climb over you as if you’re an inconvenient bug on the ground. 

Before you can even stand up, they’re already halfway up the aisle of seats. You barely have time to get up before they’ve left the theater itself. “I’m so over them being drugged.” You huff, running after them. There isn’t time to tell Erica where you’re going, too afraid you’ll lose them if you don’t hurry. 

Those fuckers better save you some water.

– 

Steve makes you hold the button on the water fountain because he “can’t do it himself”.

“Is my help really necessary?” You complain, arms crossed as you watch Steve messily gulp water down. His neck is bent at an awkward angle and for a brief moment you truly question whether or not you find him attractive. Water drips down his chin and his gulps are obscenely loud. 

“Yes,” Steve responds in between slurps. The cold water washes over him and he’s never felt closer to God than in this moment. “That’s amazing.”

Robin stands next to you, patiently waiting her turn. “So like, I wasn’t totally focused in there or anything, but I’m pretty sure that mom was trying to bang her son.”

“In the movie?” You hadn’t been paying much attention in the theater. Your view from the ground was shitty and you were too busy making sure the idiots didn’t somehow kill themselves. However, despite your lack of attention, you doubt that’s what the movie’s premise had been about. 

“Wait, the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton’s mom?” Your hip knocks against Steve’s, causing him to choke on the water he’d been drinking. Coughing, he clutches at his chest. “I could’ve died, Y/N!”

“Sorry,” you smile sympathetically at him, feigning pity. He lost the privilege of calling other women hot after getting you locked in a Russian elevator for twelve hours. “My hip slipped.”

“Aren’t you two going to question how the guy was able to go back in time?” Robin is still focused on the whole son being in love with his mom plotline. 

Steve inhales even more water. “Then why is it called Back to the Future?”

Robin begins explaining the complexities of the movie, but you tune her out. While you appreciate that she’s trying to make conversation, you’re uneasy about being out in the open like this. There’s no one around, but you can never be too careful. It’s only when she shoves Steve away from the water fountain that you focus again. 

“Wait, I was supposed to go after him–” Your protesting falls on deaf ears as Robin steals your turn for water. Reluctantly, you step away. She can hold her own damn water fountain button. 

You notice that Steve has wandered off a few feet away. He still stumbles as he walks, though his footsteps aren’t as unsteady as they were earlier. He stops in the middle of the walkway and you join him. 

“Wow,” he breathes out, looking up. He’s mesmerized by what he’s seeing. Curious, you look up as well, though you only see the skylights above. It’s night, no natural light flows through the panels. Yet Steve stands transfixed next to you. “The stars.”

“The stars?” You’re not sure what he means. You can’t see the stars from where you stand. Then again, you suppose he could be seeing things, given that he’s heavily drugged up. 

“The stars are pretty like you, angel.” Steve says, eyes still on the sky, yet his hand somehow finds yours. He intertwines your fingers together and is able to pull you closer, albeit weakly. “You’ve always been so beautiful… scared me when we were younger.”

Your breath catches and you look at him. He’s looking up, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on you. An overwhelming warmth fills your chest. You want to say something, tell him you love him and that his beauty last July had terrified you. 

But you don’t say anything. Steve is still high, he wouldn’t remember what you’ve said, and you want your confessions to sit within his chest the way his sit in yours. Instead, you find yourself admiring him. You study the length of his neck. The mole that rests just below his jaw and the others that litter his pretty face. His nose, the dip of his chin. The hair tucked behind his ears. His eyes.  

Steve Harrington is beautiful. Scars and all. 

Then he starts to gag and quickly the moment is ruined. 

“Oh, God.” You quickly grab his shoulders and frantically look for the nearest bathroom. In your haste, Robin reacts to Steve’s sudden sickness by gagging as well, and you’re very afraid of what’s about to unfold. “Okay, bathroom time! For the love of God, we need to find a bathroom.”

They’re useless as you twist and turn them around as you search for a bathroom. When you see a nearby sign, you drag them behind you and pray that they make it the next fifteen feet. As soon as you barrel through the bathroom door, Steve and Robin run out from behind you and just barely make it to the toilets before spilling their guts. 

You stand near the doorway, cringing. It’s not a pretty sight. 

They puke, spit out the excess, and flush the toilet to clear it before the next round of vomiting begins. Then they do it all over again. It goes on like this for a while, and all you can do is linger in the doorway and offer halfhearted comfort from across the room. You’ve never really gotten over your slight fear of vomit, if you’re being honest. 

Eventually Steve and Robin seem to throw everything up. When they’ve flushed the last of their sickness down, you hesitantly walk towards them and stand in between the stalls. “We feeling any better?”

“The room stopped spinning for me.” Robin says, her feet propped against the stall’s wall. You have no idea how she’s laying down the bathroom’s ground so casually. “Steve, is it still spinning for you?”

He looks up for a moment, testing what will happen. When he feels perfectly fine, he exhales with relief. “Holy shit. No.”

“You probably flushed the drugs out of your system when you puked.” You observe, leaning against the stall’s divider. “What were you guys on?”

“Allegedly a truth serum.” Robin says from the floor. “Ask me something, test if it’s really all gone.” Then, because she’s trying to get you to laugh, she lowers her voice and impersonates one of the Russians. “Interrogate me.”

Though you smile at her, your stomach twists. Not only were they beaten for information, they were also injected with a goddamn truth serum. Treated like lab rats. And you left them behind, all alone; you’ll never forgive yourself for that. 

But they’re here with you now, you remind yourself. They came out the other side. So you’ll do whatever you can to make it up to them and show them that you’re here for them. Even if that means asking bizarre questions to make sure they’re no longer being controlled by truth serums. “When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today.”

Steve looks at you to make sure you’ve also just heard Robin’s response. “What?”

You shrug. “I can’t really judge. I peed my bed a few years ago. Watched a scary movie with Dustin and had a nightmare. Wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“What?” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“See!” Robin lifts her head up from the ground to look at you. “I was also scared. When the Russian doctor pulled out a bone saw, it was only a little bit, but holy shit.”

She starts to laugh and you join her, despite the image of the bone saw you saw burning your mind. You had seen it in the room when you were saving them. It had terrified you. Yet Robin laughs about it now, so you allow yourself to as well. 

Steve shakes his head at you both. “Yeah, it’s definitely still in her system.”

“And it’s not in yours, Harrington?”

His eyes shine when he looks at you. He’s coming back to himself, you can feel it. The knowing smirk is back. “Clean as a whistle, Henderson.”

Robin clears her throat, now uncomfortable. “Aright, my turn. I want to ask him a question.” When Steve gives her the okay, she takes a deep breath. She looks at you, a resigned look on her face. Something seems to have struck her, something that terrifies her. Her laughter is gone. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve doesn’t expect the question. He looks startled by it and tilts his head up at you. Your eyes meet, and you nod, giving him the permission he doesn’t truly need. You talked about it once, last year. The two of you in your room late one night, whispering confessions about love and the pain it brought. It was never a secret. 

“Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” Steve mimes a gunshot to his heart, trying to lessen the unease. He will never really feel comfortable talking about that time of his life. 

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolls her eyes. “She’s such a priss.”

You walk over to her stall and nudge her leg with your shoe. “Hey, she’s my friend, ya know.” Ignoring how dirty the bathroom floor inevitably is, you sit next to Robin. “She’s not a priss.”

“At least, not really.” Steve adds, nostalgia in his voice. 

Robin seems to hear it, too. She sits up, eyes not meeting yours. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

Without meaning to, you hold your breath. You know Steve no longer loves her, but it’s July and somehow he still isn’t yours. There’s still trust between you, but your body tenses and your heart stutters. 

And yet Steve doesn’t hesitate. It’s immediate. He doesn’t even have to think about it. He’s known since April, though his body has known since he offered you his hand the day you almost hit his car with your bike. “No.”

“Why not?” Robin doesn’t know why she’s pushing this. You’re next to her, your thigh presses against hers. She knows that Steve is in love with you. He confessed it to her when she was teasing him about it just a few days ago. She devoted an entire whiteboard to tallying all the times he failed to ask you out. 

Steve is yours, and you’re his, but Robin can’t help but pick at scabs and expose old wounds. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Steve takes his time responding. He can almost feel your hand ghosting over his, even though you’re separated by a stall. “I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.”

You’re quiet. Robin is as well. 

“You know, it’s crazy.” Maybe it’s the truth serum still coursing through Steve’s veins or maybe it’s because he’s almost died a million times tonight. All he knows is that he’s tired of running. You deserve to know how he feels about you. “Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been badgering me about asking this girl out. That I need to ‘find my Suzie’. A girl he met at camp who somehow became his girlfriend, who I’m not even sure is actually real.”

He’s rambling. He knows he is, but you and Robin remain silent and patiently wait for him to keep going. Steve inhales, holds the breath for a few seconds, and exhales. All summer he’s been agonizing over this very moment. He’s spent countless sleepless nights terrified that he’d somehow ruin it. In the end, his own cowardice only hurt you; he still remembers the way your body shook in his arms while he held you as you cried last night. Steve remembers the fear on your face when you realized you couldn’t save him. That the Russians were going to take him away from you. 

It was then, seeing the terror in your eyes and hearing the desperation in your voice, that Steve Harrington finally realized you would give all of yourself to him; that is what love is. 

To love someone is to know that they deserve your love. 

And for some reason you love Steve. You see something in him that deserves your love. He’s no longer terrified that his love isn’t enough for you. He realizes now that it’s enough. His love is enough because it is his. 

You deserve love, and Steve is more than happy to give all of his to you. 

“The point is,” Steve runs a hand through his hair. He can feel you listening, waiting. “This girl, you know, the one that I love, it’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school… and I don’t even know why.”

A small laugh cuts through the barrier between you and Steve. The two of you spent years together in school, and not once did he ever talk to you. There was one time, early sophomore year, when he collided with you in the hallway while running to the bathroom to meet Nancy. He had apologized to you, but he continued running and hadn’t looked back.

It was two years ago, but you had only been kids, then.

Hearing your laugh emboldens Steve. He clears his throat, lifts his head. He wishes you were in the stall with him. “I think… I think I was scared. I had always watched her from afar. I mean, here was this girl who would offer help to anyone who needed it. Didn’t matter who they were, she’d help them. I just, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand why someone would go out of their way to help others without expecting anything in return.”

“I mean, there I was, worrying about being prom king while this girl was tutoring kids for free in the school library.” Steve scoffs at himself. He will never forgive himself for wasting all those years with you. He could’ve been your friend sooner had he not been such an asshole. “It’s stupid. I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should’ve been friends with this girl the whole time.”

You rest your head against the wall, buzzed with warmth. “You should’ve,” you find yourself saying softly. Though you know yourself. Steve came into your life when you needed him the most, at the right time, for the right reasons. The timing had never been right before. “But I’m sure the girl is glad you ended up how you did.”

“Me, too.” Warm honey laces Steve’s voice. He can almost feel your body on his. He can see the lines and strings above him, materializing into something more solid with every word he says. “Still should’ve happened sooner, though. I mean, this girl we’re talking about is incredible. She makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s witty, she always knows what to say and she’s so goddamn smart. I don’t think she knows this, but she has this way with people…”

His voice trails off. It’s what he loves the most about you. The effect you have on everyone you meet. The impact you make within a person’s life simply by smiling at them. “She has a way of making someone into a better person without even realizing it, just by being a part of their life. She… she made me a better person. Taught me to be softer, more vulnerable.”

Steve hadn’t known gentleness until he met you. 

To your left, Robin starts to close in on herself with every word he Steve says. She slouches down, drops her head into her knees almost as if in despair.

“She saw this good in me that no one else had before. For some reason, instead of using it against me like others have, she believed that I could be someone different. That I could change… It didn’t matter how long it would take me, she would wait. And I’m so goddamn lucky to be in love with someone as selfless as her.”

Guilt eats away at Robin. She’s harbored a resentment towards Steve all summer, even though she tried to swallow the feeling down. The love between you and Steve had always been obvious from the first day she met you. She watched the two of you dance around each other every day, basking in the sickly sweet young love you shared with one another. 

It’s not that Robin resented your relationship with Steve. No, she was happy for you, truly. The bitter taste in her mouth whenever she watched you gently stroke his cheek with your fingertips was remorse intermingling with resentment because she will never be able to do that. She will never be able to love someone so openly. To have someone hold her hand and call her tender names. 

You’re a beautiful girl with a boy who could adore you freely. Robin can only ever watch you from the shadows, scared to be caught.

You notice Robin’s shift in demeanor and press your body closer to hers. You’ve never seen her look so small before, so unsure of herself, and it worries you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

She shakes her head, too afraid that if she talks she’ll start to cry. The kindness that you offer her stings. She doesn’t deserve it. Not when she believes you outshine the sun. Before she can make up some excuse, Steve knocks on the stall. “Robin? Y/N? Did someone just OD over there?”

“No,” Robin’s breath is shaky, which worries you even more. “We’re still alive.”

You try to meet her eye, but she won’t look up at you. You’re not sure what’s happened, but she’s closed herself off from you; you feel like an intruder. Placing an arm on her shoulder, you’re about to offer her some more water when Steve’s body slides into the stall.

He settles himself across from you, shy with his movements. Your heart lurches when you see him, too. He confessed his love for you only moments prior, and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and call him yours, but Robin looks pale. She’s scared. You just don’t know why.

“The floor’s disgusting,” she says to Steve, hoping to get the attention off of her. 

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…” He looks down, cringes slightly. You remain silent, and Robin’s eyes are still downcast. Seeing this, Steve tries to lighten the mood and asks Robin a teasing question. “So, what do you think?”

“About?”

“This girl,” he turns to you, then. He looks at you with such fondness and knows that both you and Robin know he had been talking about you the entire time. He’s trying to get you to laugh, bring a smile back to your faces.

Robin tries to play along, swallowing down the remaining bitterness. You’re sitting next to her, your hand is still on her arm. “She sounds awesome.” 

“She is awesome.” Steve winks at you, hoping it’ll get you to blush the pretty pink he loves so much. When it works, he smiles. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he’s as sweet as honey in July.” You say, giving into Steve’s charm. It’s worked on you ever since the day you crashed into that ditch, even if back then you refused to admit it.

“Yeah? Well, I think he’s on drugs, and that he’s not thinking straight. That he doesn’t realize how lucky he is.” Robin interjects. She doesn’t look at you, her eyes remain on Steve. You raise your eyebrows at what she’s said. You hadn’t expected such a pessimistic response from her.

Off put by her sudden dejection, Steve becomes defensive. He doesn’t understand what Robin is doing. She was the one who kept encouraging Steve to ask you out all summer. “Really? ‘Cause I think he’s thinking a lot more clearly than usual. He knows what luck is.”

“Does he? What if there’s this other girl, one he hasn’t seen yet. I mean, really seen.” Robin swallows. Her fingers twist together nervously. “What if he one day sees her and realizes just how unlucky she is. I don’t think the guy would ever want to be her friend after that.”

“No, that’s not true. No way is that true.” Steve shifts closer to the two of you now, confused as to why Robin is saying all of this. Of course she’s his friend. “I mean, apart from the girl he’s in love with, this other girl is the guy’s only friend.”

“Listen to me, Steve.” Robin still doesn’t look at you, but you listen silently and allow her the space she seems to need. “It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you, but I’m not lucky like you are. I think… I think you should use that luck. Go for the girl.”

Steve tilts his head, not quite following. “What does luck have to do with any of it?”

Robin sighs and you sit next to her, quiet. She seems to be trying to figure out what she wants to say, and somehow you think you know what she means by luck. It’s always fascinated you, luck and love. Two sides of the same coin. But it never occurred to you that there could be an undercurrent that cuts through the luck. A double meaning behind it. 

“Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah,”

Robin closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them, there’s a resolved look in them.  “It… It isn’t because I had a crush on you. It’s because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

At first, you’re confused. You had missed their conversation about Mrs. Click’s class. They must’ve had it when they were being held captive, but the phrasing of what Robin has just said feels heavier than it should. Her words land on you with a force you hadn’t seen coming. 

If Robin had for some reason talked about being obsessed with Steve in a class they once shared, but not because she had a crush on him, but because a girl wouldn’t stop staring at him… 

“Mrs. Click?”

Even though you’ve done well remaining silent this entire time, you can’t help but snort at Steve’s response. He’s trying, you know he is. Robin must know this too, because she laughs softly at him as well. “No, Steve.”  Her smile dims, however. “That would’ve made things easier for me, though.”

Easier. Luckier. 

And then it all clicks. 

Robin’s insistence on always pleasing you. The subtle touches. The way her eyes would darken sometimes when you looked at Steve. How, only an hour ago, she had asked you for a kiss when she was still under the influence of the truth serum. 

You draw your hand towards hers and slowly thread your fingers together. Robin’s head spins, she finally allows herself to look at you. She finds your eyes staring into hers. They’re kind, understanding. You’re looking right through her in this very moment, and Robin Buckley has never been more afraid. 

“How long have you known?” You ask her, voice gentle.

Robin’s voice shakes. “Since Tammy Thompson…” She has to look away from you. She can’t do this with you looking at her. “She was in Mrs. Click’s class with me and Steve. I–I wanted her to look at me, but.. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him and his stupid hair.”

She pauses, tries to compose herself, and you squeeze her hand three times. Once to tell her that you’re there, another to give her the reassurance to go on, and the final time to communicate that you understand. There isn’t a reason to be scared. Somehow, Robin knows what the gesture means. Breathing in, she looks at Steve and continues. 

“And I didn’t understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you asked dumb questions and you were a douchebag. And–and you didn’t even like her and I–” Her voice breaks. “I would go home… and just scream into my pillow.”

Steve looks between the two of you. It’s obvious he’s the only one not aware of the underlying layers. “But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.”

“Steve,” Robin breathes out, pleading. She doesn’t want to say it out loud. She can’t say it out loud. He needs to understand what she’s trying to say. Why she’s been giving him hell all summer. Why she feels guilty when she looks at you.

“Yeah?” But he doesn’t understand.

Robin can’t say anything. She looks at him, can feel the tears in her eyes; she’s begging now. Steve’s eyes find yours, silently begging you as well to explain this to him. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong. He doesn’t want to be doing something that could hurt Robin like this. 

Your shoes squeak against the tile floors as you draw your knees into your chest. You’re not sure what else you can do. Robin has laid everything out for Steve. Your hand still holds hers and you try to quell the fear within you that maybe he’s being intentionally naive. Maybe he doesn’t want to believe it. 

“Oh.” 

It’s one word, one exhale of breath from a mouth that once used to say cruel things. Steve’s face softens, his jaw unclenches and his shoulders relax. He surprises you, showing nothing but empathy. He’s kind, he’s always been kind.

“Holy shit,” Steve doesn’t want to mess this up, but he’s never been good with words. 

Robin laughs. “Yeah, holy shit.”

He sighs and leans against the stall wall. It’s quiet between the three of you. No one really knows what to say now. Steve is still processing, Robin’s heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled, and you’re trying to figure out how to tell her that you understand more than she may know. She’s braver than you, trusted you with this secret, and it’s only fair that you offer her a part of yourself as well. 

Plus, it’s a wonderful ice breaker. 

“You have terrible taste in women, Robin.” You nudge her with your shoulder, teasing. “I mean, I’ve heard Tammy Thompson during choir rehearsal. You can totally do better.”

“She wants to be a singer, she has dreams!” Robin defends the girl, the change in conversation bizarre but welcomed. 

Steve, sensing that you’re trying to lessen the tension, gratefully plays along. “So what she has dreams? She can’t even carry a tune. But, more importantly, what do you know about taste in women, Y/N?”

“I see things,” you jut your head out, defiant. “Probably would’ve fallen in love with Nancy Wheeler had I known her instead of Jonathan.”

Their reactions are expected.

“You would’ve loved Nancy?” Steve exclaims at the same time as Robin guffaws, “You loved Byers?” 

You laugh. It’s a full, whole body laugh. One you haven’t felt in so long. “Yes,” you wheeze out, the look on their faces killing you. Steve looks unnerved while Robin looks disgusted. “At least Jonathan doesn’t sound like a muppet when he sings.”

“Tammy does not!” Robin is laughing alongside you now. It’s been a long time since she’s laughed this hard, too.

Steve rolls his eyes, his own smile overtaking his face. “She sounds like a muppet giving birth, Robin.”

“That’s what she reminds me of!” You snap your fingers and point at him. “You’re right!”

Robin clutches her stomach as she laughs. She leans into your side as you lean into her. Steve starts doing a terrible impersonation of Tammy’s awful singing, which only gets the two of you to laugh even harder. Steve gets you to sing along. He grabs the hand that isn’t holding Robin’s and swings it around as the two of you sing. Robin joins, laughing more than singing. It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely. 

And this is how Dustin finds the three of you.

He slams the bathroom door open, Erica right behind him, and stands in front of you.

“Okay,” he glares at you specifically. “What the hell, Y/N?”

You giggle at his disappointed dad stance. “I told you I’d take care of them.”

Dustin isn’t amused, which only makes your giggles turn to laughter again. The other two teens aren’t far behind you, descending into yet another fit of laughter. Hunched together, the three of you giggle breathlessly as your brother and Erica watch in disbelief. 

But you ignore their questioning stares.

With both Steve and Robin holding your hands, laughter warming your belly, you feel like a kid again.

– 

 The bus becomes your only option.

“I managed to contact the party.” Dustin had informed you after your laughter died down.

Relief washed over you. “Thank God–”

“But then my walkie died.”

“Yeah,” you had sighed and dropped your head down in defeat. “Yeah, of course it did. Why wouldn’t it die when we need it?”

Which leads you to now: peering out the bathroom door with Steve breathing down your neck and Dustin in front of you, checking to make sure it’s safe. A crowd of people flood the once empty hallway. The movie must’ve just finished. Everyone is talking excitedly, having no idea that five teenagers are currently hiding in the bathroom from Russians. 

You envy them. 

“When I say ‘blend’, we go. Okay?” Dustin asks the group, eyes still on the mass of people exiting the theater. 

“Because Steve dripping blood definitely will blend in.” You retort. It’ll be hard not to draw attention to yourselves with the way his face still oozes. It’s a long walk down to the bus station and you’re getting worried now. The mall closes in ten minutes, soon there won’t be any crowds to hide behind. 

Dustin doesn’t bother justifying your remark. Instead he studies the flow of traffic before giving his signal. “Blend.”

The five of you swiftly exit the bathroom and align your pace with everyone around you. Dustin guides in front with Erica while you stay back with Steve and Robin. Your eyes move constantly, scanning every face you pass. Thankfully, the people close to you seem innocent enough.

Erica looks around, impressed. “Well, shit. That worked.”

“Of course it worked.” Dustin is smug, which makes you wince. He’s always had a bad habit of jinxing things. You really wish he had gotten more of your mom’s humility and less of your dad’s ego. “Now we just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home, here we come.”

You shove your brother. “Can we not taunt our inevitable bad luck?”

“We’re in the clear now, Y/N. Trust me, in just twenty minutes we’ll be back home, where our dear mother awaits with her frantic arms wide open–”

“Uh, Dustin?” Steve eyes him nervously. Already you dread whatever he’s about to say. You guys only lasted thirty seconds without any bad luck. It’s a new record, honestly.

“What?”

“Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Steve winces with regret. He knows he’s about to piss both Hendersons off. “I might’ve told them your full name.”

Dustin turns to look at him, bewildered. “What is wrong with you?”

“Dude, I was drugged.” Steve argues, which. Yeah. That’s fair.

Not liking that he apparently sold your brother out to Russians, yet understanding that Steve hadn’t been the most clear headed when it happened, you grab his hand. There’s more important matters to deal with, like whether or not he sold you out as well. “Did you tell them my full name?”

“No, I kept you safe.” He says, with an air of obviousness that you smirk at. 

“Aw, thanks honey.” You kiss his cheek, not caring that Dustin is fuming in front of you. 

“Oh, so you can resist for your girlfriend but not for her brother?” Dustin struggles to keep his voice low. He has never wanted to shove Steve down a flight of stairs more. “You were supposed to tough it out. Like a man!”

You flick the kid’s hat. “Hey, he was very manly defending my honor.”

“I hate you both–”

Robin suddenly freezes, her eyes catching on something. “Guys…”

Everyone stops, alarmed by the tone in her voice, before you see them. There, standing right in front of the exit of the mall, are the two Russian men from the alley. They’re stopping people, checking their faces, looking for you. 

“Abort.” Dustin says, before one of the men makes direct eye contact with him. His face pales and you already have one hand on his shoulder, pulling at him to run. “Abort!”

Steve grabs Erica’s hand and motions for you and Dustin to run ahead as Robin guides. She pushes through the crowd of people and towards the escalators. However, when you get there, they’re roped off and blocked by plexiglass. 

You kick at the glass, frustrated. The Russians are close now. Robin, quick as ever, steps past you and places herself in the middle of the two escalators. You’re confused at first, but then you realize there’s just enough space for your bodies to fit through. Sitting down, Robin is able to use the gap as a makeshift slide.

“Let’s go,” Steve places Erica to slide down next, then Dustin. When it’s your turn, he nods at you. “Ready?”

“I’m so tired of running from these shitheads.” You say before launching yourself down the escalators. 

Robin waits for everyone at the bottom. When you’re all there, she waves for you to follow as you run again. None of you have any idea where to even hide now that the mall has emptied. There’s no one to hide behind, no corner to run into. And the goddamn Russians are fast, never trailing more than fifty feet behind you. 

Somehow you end up in the food court. It isn’t much, but there’s at least vendor’s stalls and restaurant counters nearby. Panting, you point towards the nearest counter. “There! Everyone jump over!”

No one argues, doing as they’re told. You make it there first and help Erica over while Steve and Robin help Dustin. Kneeling down, you motion for everyone to sit with a finger to your lips. The men have to be nearby, you can practically feel their presence close. Facing your friends, you grip your knives and strain your ears for any sounds. 

It’s tense. Dustin pants, he’s scared and overwhelmed and you wish you could offer him better protection. Steve glances at you, silently asking you what the next move is, and you shake your head helplessly. You’re cornered, there’s no way out of this one. 

The sound of boots falling against the mall’s ground approaches. It grows louder and louder at a maddeningly slow pace. Your knuckles are white from how tightly they grip around the hilt of your switchblade. With one flick of your wrist, you know you could at least disarm one of the men long enough to cause a distraction. You’d never kill anyone, but you know from experience that a cut to the shoulder is sufficient enough. 

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when a car alarm suddenly goes off. Its loud noise echoes within the empty mall. Everyone jumps at the unexpected sound, shuffling closer together. Deciding it’s worth the risk, you poke your head up to see what the hell is going on. 

The guards are standing around a red convertible. It shakes, vibrates almost, and they look at one another in confusion. The car continues to shriek its alarm, and while the men stand in fear, you smile. There’s static in the air.

Looking up you see El, with an arm outstretched, on the second floor. Her face is strained, her fingers clench in mid air. The look on her face is terrifying, and you’ve never been happier to see blood drip down from her nose. She twists her arm and sends the car flying into the men. You duck as it crushes them, rolls over the tables and chairs in the center, before spiraling into the counter next to you. “Shit!”

The alarm stops ringing. Everything falls silent. Slowly, you and everyone else stand up to inspect the damage. A tire rim rolls past, the Russians guards are sprawled on the ground, unmoving. There’s smoke from where the car has landed, and you let out a low whistle. “Nice one, El.”

“El?” Dustin turns around, wondering if he’s heard you right.

“She’s up there,” you point to where she had been standing, but when you see Jonathan now standing next to her with Nancy, your heart stops. “Jonathan.”

You’re the first to start running, and when he sees that it’s you, Jonathan wastes no time running either. He’s down the escalator in seconds. Your whole body buzzes as you run, adrenaline and longing coursing through you. The moment he’s close enough, you practically leap into his arms.

“Bug,” he holds onto you tightly. He buries his face in your hair and you breathe him in. It’s a familiar scent, a familiar warmth. You had been so focused on escaping the Russian base that you hadn’t even considered that he and everyone else in the party could’ve been involved. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you tighten your arms around him, but when he makes a pained noise, you immediately pull away. It’s then that you notice the swelling in his head. The dried blood. Pressing your fingers softly to his face, you fill with concern. “What happened, are you hurt?”

Jonathan tries to shrug it off. He doesn’t care about what he’s been through. All he wants to focus on is that you’re okay, for once not covered in blood and bruises like he is. Wherever you’ve been these last few days, at least he knows you weren’t in any pain. “I’m fine, I’ll tell you everything later–”

“You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” Dustin exclaims to El, now joining you and Jonathan as the others gather around. 

You don’t leave Jonathan’s side as everyone starts talking at once. Lucas asks why Erica is involved, to which you wince at. “I tried stopping them.”

“It’s their fault.” Erica points at Steve and Robin, clearing your name in the process, which you appreciate her for. 

Steve stands next to you now and puts his hands on his hips. He doesn’t even try to deny that he’s the reason a ten year old girl ended up locked inside an underground Russian facility. “Yeah, true. Totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.” 

Robin asks what happened to the car and Dustin and Steve explain El to her. They quickly catch her up to speed about the girl’s power, and you feel bad for the teen. It’s a lot of information to take in at once. Erica joins, having remembered her conversation with Dustin from earlier in the vents when he had explained the Upside Down to her. 

Meanwhile, Nancy is focused on Robin. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“That’s Robin. She’s a friend.” You step between them. When Nancy sees that it’s you, she quickly looks away. She fidgets with her fingers, overwhelmed with shame and regret. She hasn’t forgotten the cruelty she showed you a few days ago. You haven’t forgotten either, but you’ve never been one to hold anger towards others. Extending a kind smile, you nod at her. “Hey, Nance.”

Nancy looks up, surprised, but smiles at you as well and it’s enough. Maybe one day you’ll sort through the tension that never seems to leave you and the girl alone. Untangle the lines and threads that haunt both of you. For now, there are other things to worry about. 

Steve has started explaining the Russians now, and quickly it becomes clear that you’ve all been dealing with vastly different situations. 

“Russians, what Russians?” Jonathan asks you with alarm. 

“See those guys laying over there?” Everyone looks at where you’re pointing, the men still knocked out on the ground. “Russians. We enjoyed twenty-four wonderful hours with them.”

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at. 

“It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.”

“And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Nancy looks uncomfortable with this new information, Mike makes a disgusted sound, Max high fives you, Lucas cheers, Will gasps and looks nervously towards his brother, and Jonathan chokes on his own spit. It’s truly a very wide array of reactions, all of which are expected to certain extents. 

That doesn’t stop you from hitting the back of Dustin’s head, though. “Can we focus on the Russians infiltrating Hawkins?” Dustin hits your shoulder in retaliation, but he knows you’re right. He turns to Mike, upset that he hadn’t come sooner. “Didn’t you get our code red?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t understand half of what you were saying.”

The kids all start to argue and Steve joins in, making a remark about how he’s always bugging Dustin to watch for a low battery. More arguing follows. Lucas and the others demand to hear more about the Russians. As you try your best to explain everything, you notice from the corner of your eye El walking away from the group.

Her shoulders are drawn into her body, her breathing seems to be labored. You nudge Jonathan, pulling his attention away from the kids arguing, and point towards El. “What happened to her tonight?”

Jonathan is about to explain what they’ve been dealing with, but when El collapses onto the ground, you leave his side in a heartbeat to join her. Kneeling beside her, you’re cold with panic. She’s covered in sweat, her face is flushed. “El? Sweetheart, what’s happening?”

Mike and Jonathan are beside you now. Mike is in his own fit of panic, nearly ramming into you in his hurry to get to the girl. He turns her over onto her back, his face twisted with worry and fear. “El! What’s wrong?”

The rest of the group stands around El now, staring down at her. She manages to open her eyes, but you can tell that it pains her to do so. “My leg.” She rasps out, voice thick with tears. 

“Her leg, okay.” Jonathan takes action, swiftly unraveling a bandage on her leg. You hadn’t noticed it before. There’s a deep wound underneath the gauze, its blood has soaked through it. Nancy helps Jonathan with the bandage, and when they finally get it off, you almost throw up at the sight. 

The flesh is raised, angry and swollen. There’s a giant gash in El’s leg, deep and to the bone. The veins in her legs are dark and begin to constrict when something starts to move inside the wound; something is crawling inside her leg. It’s a nauseating sight.

Mike starts to freak out even more. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s scared for the girl, his eyes fill with panic. Instinctively you pull him into your arms, tightening your hold as he fights against it. 

That’s when El begins to scream.

-

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[eiightysixbaby]

under the mistletoe

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader (college au)

2.6k

summary: a holiday party, a sweet gift exchange, and an even sweeter kiss

cw: mentions of alcohol, v brief mentions of weed smoking, fluff

“If Steve and Chrissy kiss one more time under that mistletoe, I’m gonna barf,” Eddie mumbles around his glass of eggnog.

“Oh, come on, I think it’s sweet,” Robin says, elbowing him in the side. “Stop being such a downer.”

You look in the direction of the couple under scrutiny, watching as Chrissy perches herself on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Steve’s waiting mouth. It is sweet, sickeningly so, if you’re honest. Maybe that’s where Eddie’s coming from…

“I’m not being a downer, I just don’t think we should all have to be subjected to them sucking face every five minutes,” Eddie sneers at her, huffing when she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re just jealous you’re not getting any, Munson,” Robin sing-songs, walking away to refill her drink.

This was your first time experiencing one of Steve’s Christmas parties. Last year, you spent the holiday miserably sick in your and Robin’s shared apartment. You’d met the group during your first year of college, making fast friends and fitting right in with them. Robin and Eddie knew Steve from their shared hometown growing up, and they’d told you countless stories of all of the parties he used to throw in high school.

You’re just thankful that now, the parties are a little more scaled-back. A lot less drinking-till-you-puke and a lot more quality time with people you actually care about.

“So, you having fun at your first official Harrington holiday party?” Eddie asks you, looking casually over at you with his deep brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you smile. “It’s fun. I needed this after all the stress from finals. And it beats having the flu like last year,” you grimace, heart skipping a beat when Eddie laughs.

“Okay, you got me. Watching Steve and Chrissy make out might be bad, but it’s not as bad as the flu.”

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat when he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You’d be a filthy liar if you said you didn’t have a thing for Eddie. The moment you met him he’d captured your full attention, with his boisterous personality and his pretty eyes. His wild curly hair and his stellar smile. Everything about him had you giddy like a teenager, but you hadn’t voiced this to anyone — too scared that your feelings would disrupt, well, everything.

Plus, Eddie definitely didn’t like you like that. You’ve heard some of his hookup stories, he wouldn’t want to settle down and start a relationship with you. You’re just a friend to him, and that’s fine.

But with the way he’s looking at you right now, you could almost be convinced otherwise…

The little moment is gone before it really even started, Nancy coming over to the two of you and hurrying you into the living room to do the gift exchange. You’d decided to do a Secret Santa, drawing names and keeping your chosen person a secret until it was time for the unwrapping.

Much to your excitement, you’d pulled Eddie’s name. You’d debated over what to get him for as long as you could get away with before you finally came up with the perfect idea. Now that it’s almost time for him to open it, you find yourself getting nervous to see his reaction.

Everyone sits in a circle in the living room, taking up all of the furniture as well as the floor. You take one end of the sofa, and Eddie claims the chair closest to you. You watch as Nancy places all of the wrapped boxes and sparkly gift bags in the center of the group, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Eddie chose to sit by you.

“So, whose name did you get?” he leans over and whispers to you, those big doe eyes full of mischief.

“Well what fun would it be to spoil it now?” you counter, smiling at him as he rolls his eyes and sighs exaggeratedly.

Your attention is brought back to the group as Steve offers to go first, picking up his gift and handing it over to Jonathan. Jonathan shyly accepts it, smiling as he tears the tissue paper out of the bag to reveal its contents. He pulls out a few cassette tapes of his favorite artists, as well as a new strap for his camera.

“Dude, these are awesome!” he says, and you watch as Steve smiles proudly. “Thank you so much,” the shaggy-headed boy continues, leaning over to accept Steve’s fist bump.

“No problem, man. I know you were complaining about your current camera strap getting all worn. The cassettes were an obvious choice,” Steve jokes.

The room is full of smiles and laughs as the gift-giving continues. Jonathan gives his gift to Chrissy, Chrissy had drawn your name and gives hers to you — a beautiful charm bracelet and a cozy blanket you’d seen at the mall not long ago and wanted terribly.

That means you’re up next. Your hands feel clammy and nervous butterflies flutter in your stomach as you grab your gifts from the floor. Angling yourself in Eddie’s direction, you hand him the presents with a timid smile.

“For me!?” he asks, holding a hand up to his heart. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You feel your face flush, unable to maintain eye contact as your jitters get the best of you. You just hope he likes it. You hope it’s not too much.

Eddie’s careful hands unwrap the first present of the two, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor. The small box is exposed, and you feel like you might pass out as he takes the lid off. His jaw drops open, his head snapping up to look at you and then look back down at the contents of the container once more.

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, craning her neck from her seat to try and catch a glimpse.

“Custom guitar picks. For Corroded Coffin,” Eddie says, in awe as he just stares at them.

The picks were a red and black marbled pattern, with CC printed onto them on one side, and an image of a bat flying on the opposite side. You know how important his band is to him, how often he stays up till the asscrack of dawn practicing guitar, and so it felt like the perfect thing to get.

You wait with baited-breath as he continues looking them over, picking them up and marveling at them as if they aren’t just pieces of plastic at the end of the day.

“These are…. I don’t even know what to say. These are so fucking sweet,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Don’t forget to open the second one,” you say, trying to bite back a smile.

He just smiles, shaking his head as he goes to pick up the second present. Reaching carefully inside of the big, sparkly red bag, he pulls out a vinyl record. Not just any record, though. It’s a copy of Master of Puppets, signed by every member of Metallica. Eddie’s favorite band. You’d scoured the internet for a legitimate and somewhat-affordable copy, completely scoring on this one. A good chunk of the money you’d made from your campus job went towards it, but it was more than worth it.

“No fucking way!” he shouts when he clocks the signatures scrawled out in marker. He flips the record around to show the room, everyone erupting in a chorus of “holy shit!” and “oh my god”.

He’s out of his seat in an instant, encouraging you to stand with him. He squeezes you in an impossibly tight hug, his arms so secure around you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he says, right against your ear. He pulls back a little, looking you right in the eyes. “Thank you so fucking much. What the hell,” he laughs, his teeth fully on display and the dimples coming out in his cheeks.

“Damn. She’s the best gift giver of us all. I think we might as well just call off Secret Santa for next year, no one’s topping that,” Steve says, getting a nod from Robin.

Eddie still hasn’t fully let you go, and it’s only when you become excruciatingly aware of all of the eyes on you that you pull away from his touch.

“Okay. So, Eddie, you’re next?” you say shakily, trying to gain your composure back. The boy stares at you just a second too long for you not to overthink it, before he’s nodding along.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, reaching for his gift.

The remainder of the gifts are exchanged rather quickly, but you really couldn’t tell anyone what they were if you’d had a gun to your head. All you could think about was the way Eddie hugged you. The look in his eyes when he opened both gifts. His eyes watching you intently from that moment on.

You want to buy him gifts like that all of the time, want to make him smile like that all of the time.

Chrissy and Steve cozy up on the loveseat, wrapped in each other as Christmas music plays softly. Jonathan and Argyle sit by the window, smoking from the new bowl the latter had been gifted by Robin. (That was the only gift you’d actually paid attention to as it was given, because Argyle literally cried). Eddie was relaxing in his chair, sipping another glass of spiked nog.

Robin and Nancy had pulled you into the kitchen as soon as they could, talking in whispers.

“Okay, so what was that? You got Eddie, like, the best gift ever.” Robin says, her eyes bulging at the end of the sentence.

“Yeah, I mean, that record had to have cost a fortune. And the custom picks!?” Nancy prods.

“Can I not just get my friend a nice gift?” you counter, your hand rubbing the back of your neck.

“Something’s up. I always know when something’s up,” Nancy says, her small mouth pursing in thought.

She’s right. She always knows. You don’t stand a chance lying to them — especially not both of them, together.

“Okay, fine! So maybe I have a little thing for Eddie…” you say. “But he definitely doesn’t like me like that! I just… wanted to get him something nice. It made me feel good,” you add, quick to defend yourself.

“I knew it!” Robin says, a little too loud, Nancy and you hurrying to shush her. “I knew it,” she says again, whispering this time.

“Just pleeaaase don’t tell him, okay? I don’t need this getting out—”

“Okay, babe, have you ever considered that he might like you too?” Robin interrupts, and Nancy nods.

“I— I don’t know! He doesn’t seem like the type to want a relationship, and… I don’t know!” you stumble, realizing you aren’t sure if you have a valid reason to confidently claim that he doesn’t like you.

The truth is, you just don’t know. And the unknown is terrifying.

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Nancy asks. “You know Eddie’s a sweetheart. I’m sure he’d love to go on a date with you,” she says, and you chew on your lip in indecision.

“I don’t know, you guys…” you mumble, nervously playing with your hair.

“Just, think about it?” Robin asks, just as the curly-headed man in question strolls leisurely into the kitchen.

“What are we thinking about?” he noses his way into the conversation, grabbing a few cookies off of a tray.

“Uh, nothing important,” you lie, giving him the most convincingly casual smile you can muster.

He bites into his cookie, leaning casually against the table. His dark eyes don’t leave you. Bringing an icing-covered finger to his mouth, he sucks the sugary substance off, making you flustered for the millionth time tonight.

Think about it, Robin said. You’re definitely thinking about it.

“Hey, um, could I talk to you alone, for a sec?” he asks you, bringing you back to earth.

“Oh! Y-yeah, sure,” you say, following him out of the kitchen. You chance a quick glance back at the girls, both of whom give you a thumbs up and an encouraging nod.

Eddie rounds the corner from the kitchen, standing in the entryway to the apartment. You’re just out of earshot of anyone else, and you’re nervous for what he’s about to say. You lean against the wall, his taller frame almost caging you in.

“Listen. I just want you to know how much I appreciate the gifts you got me. You didn’t have to do that,” he says sincerely. “No one’s ever gotten me a gift that nice before, besides for when Wayne got me my guitar,” he says, laughing lightly. “I just… thank you. I can’t thank you enough, actually.”

“I wanted to do it. You don’t even need to thank me. I’m just glad you like them, and you don’t think it’s too much,” you admit, glancing down at your feet.

“They’re perfect,” he says earnestly, getting you to look back up at him. “You’re… perfect," he breathes, saying it like it's a sigh of relief. Like it’s long overdue.

His eyes are so soft and sincere, his lips plump and pink as his tongue pokes out to wet them. His cheeks are tinged with the slightest bit of red, either from nerves or from the alcohol. You find yourself lost in him, your lips parting slightly as you both stand in silence.

Something above his head catches your attention, after a moment, and you look further up. You laugh in spite of yourself, making him look up, too.

Right above both of you, hanging from the arch in the ceiling, is mistletoe. The same mistletoe Eddie had been complaining about earlier. He starts laughing too, and then the both of you are stood there giggling like schoolchildren at the situation you find yourselves in.

When he’s regained composure, and your belly-laughs have subsided to a shy smile, you meet his eyes again. He steps ever-so-slightly closer to you, regarding you carefully down the bridge of his nose. There’s a playful look on his face, and one of his hands reaches out to gently rest on your waist.

“Since we’re here… should we..?” he starts, inching even closer.

“Yeah, we should,” you murmur, pushing up on your toes to meet him as he starts leaning down.

Your eyes flutter shut, your noses brushing together before your lips barely graze his. His warm breath fans your face, and then his lips are pressed fully on yours. You’re drinking him in, letting your mouths move softly together as you press your body against his. He smells like cinnamon and spice, tastes like the liquor from his drink, and you can’t get enough.

He’s pulling away too soon, reaching his hands up to cup your face. You never want him to let go, never want to go back to the reality you were living in before you’d kissed him, and the look on his face tells you he might be feeling the same.

“Wow,” Steve says from his spot on the couch, reminding both you and Eddie that you aren’t the only ones here.

“Awww you guys are so cute!” Chrissy coos, making you bite your lip in slight embarrassment.

Nancy and Robin high-five nonchalantly, before looking at you with huge smiles. Eddie’s arm wraps around you, pulling you into his side. You feel like a million bucks with him so close to you.

“You guys mind if we get out of here?” he says to the room. “I think we have a lot to catch up on,” he adds, glancing down at you with a wink.

You’d never been so happy to leave a party in your life. And maybe you didn’t even make it out of the parking lot of Steve’s complex before Eddie’s hands were all over you, but that’s your business.

[sailortongue]

Laboratory Mishap

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

wc: 2.9k

summary: after a lab experiment goes awry, you and spencer find yourselves in a heated situation

cw: smut, aphrodisiac/sex pollen (its not actual pollen but it fits the trope), oral (fem receiving), dubcon?, power dynamic, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

-------

Chemistry was the bane of your existence. You had never struggled so much with a subject. You had completed three general chemistry classes, two genchem labs, three organic chemistry classes, two ochem labs, and now you were taking biochem and a biochem lab. But despite all of your academic background, you still didn't have the slightest iota of understanding.

Even so, you couldn't stop yourself from looking forward to the weekly lab. You hated having to change from shorts into pants in the tiny bathroom stalls (no way in hell were you walking all the way across campus in high-humidity weather wearing pants). You hated the red line on your forehead from the goggles. You hated having to stand for 2+ hours because the lab wasn't equipped with stools. You hated chemistry in general. But you loved seeing the uber attractive GA, Spencer Reid.

More often than not, you spaced out during his pre-lab instructions. You were too busy focusing on anything about him that wasn't the jargon coming from his lips. Your poor lab partner always ended up having to re-explain the procedure. But today, that wasn't an option. Your lab partner had a wedding to attend today and, instead of being in your usual lab session, had opted to join yesterday’s lab session, leaving you all by your lonesome. Initially, you had cursed their name to hell and back for forsaking you like this, but, after Spencer offered to give you all the extra help you needed, you were suddenly exceedingly happy that your partner wasn't here.

You could see the scathing looks directed at you by some of the other girls in class. Of course you weren't the only one who had immediately taken a liking to the young GA. Only a blind person wouldn't be able to see how good looking he was. And the girls in your class were definitely not blind. You couldn't help but feel a bit smug that you would be getting his extra attention and not them.

Spencer, unbeknownst to you, was having similar thoughts and was mentally extending his gratitude to your absent lab partner. He was more than aware of the implications of coming onto a student, especially since as a GA he was in a position above you. But he wanted to be above you in the literal sense, and it was beginning to cause him to question his morals. You were the same age, so how bad could it really be? He’d noticed your frequent glances at him and reveled in the fact that you couldn't keep your eyes off of him.

During the course of the lab, Spencer was essentially your replacement lab partner. In an attempt to not show his blatant favoritism, he didn't actually guide you through the lab and instead just followed your instructions, such as pouring out chemicals into the waste bucket and washing beakers. Labs were lengthy enough with two people working together, and although Spencer would like to keep you all to himself past the time the others had already left, he remembered how miserable it was to have to stay late.

But even with his help, you still found yourself to be the last one. And not only were you the last one, but you weren’t even close to being done. Since there wasn't anyone to tell him otherwise, Spencer took pity on you and gave you far more help than he probably should have. But if he was being totally honest with himself, he just wanted an excuse to be close to you. Even though there was more than enough room at the bench, he still stood near enough that your arms occasionally brushed. Every time you handed him something he made sure his fingers met yours. And when you asked for his input about the data report? That was his favorite. His stature gave him the perfect excuse to lean down under the guise of seeing better, but he always bent down lower than he really needed to, just to have his face right next to yours and give him a front row seat to your flustered expression.

It took all of your willpower to keep your head out of the gutter. You were trying in vain to rationalize his actions. Like maybe he just didn't realize how close he was actually standing to you, and you were definitely overthinking the hand-to-hand contact, and maybe he just didn't have his contacts in and that’s why he was leaning so close. But try as you might, it wasn't enough to prevent you from getting severely distracted by the handsome GA, and getting severely distracted in a lab was typically advised against. In your flustered state, you grabbed the wrong pipette, and Spencer, just as distracted as you, didn't notice and was unable to stop the impending mistake.

Pipettes were made to measure precisely, but they don't all measure the same. So you'd royally fucked up the experiment by adding 10x the amount you were supposed to. And thanks to the stir plate the beaker was on, the solution was rapidly mixed together.

“Is it supposed to smell like that?” you asked nervously. It was a sharp, acrid smell, one you surely would have noticed earlier when your classmates were on this step.

Spencer was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the beaker, the stir bar still spinning wildly within. He noticed the smell you were speaking of and instantly pulled you backwards. “No, no it's not. Don't breathe it in.”

He covered the lower half of his face with his elbow and grabbed the beaker from the stir plate with his other hand. He made his way to the fume hood as quickly as he could and shut the beaker within. But it was too late. You’d both inhaled the gas already, and, thanks to your biology major, you were more than aware of how sensitive the lining of the lungs is. It was literally designed to allow for gaseous exchange. Whatever you’d accidentally created was already making its way throughout your body.

As Spencer was making his way back over to you, he noticed that he was beginning to feel incredibly hot, and his breathing was becoming shallower. It was shortly after the onset of those systems that he realized his pants were progressively getting tighter in the crotch. This could not be happening. What in god’s name had you created? He was practically panting when he got back to your workbench and found you in a similar state.

You immediately began to spew apologies, but Spencer wasn't listening. No, he was far too focused on keeping his hands at his sides and not on you. He held a hand up to stop you rambling and swallowed harshly, trying to get himself under control. “It was an accident. Are you feeling okay?”

“Feel like I have a fever and my heart is beating way faster than it was a minute ago.” Your panties were also becoming wetter by the second but he didn't need to know that.

Spencer’s normally sharp mind was in a flurry. Even though you hadn't told him in words, your body betrayed the fact that you were just as aroused as he was. The subtle rubbing of your thighs together was a dead giveaway. You had your back to him, hands braced against the edge of your workbench. If Spencer was thinking straight, he never would have acted on his inappropriate thoughts; but he wasn't thinking straight. He closed the distance between the two of you, leaving no space between your bodies. He placed his hands on either side of yours, effectively caging you in his arms. Your breath hitched at the intimate position you found yourself in.

“I know you feel what I do,” he said, slightly pushing his hips into yours, his hard cock straining against its confines. “We can help each other out. Or, you could tell me to fuck off and I’ll let go as soon as you tell me to. Whatever we do or don't do, it's your choice. Just tell me what you want.” His voice was breathy and high-pitched by the end, and his self control was splintering by the second.

You adjusted your stance, the movement causing you to brush against Spencer’s front. He gasped and his hands flew to your hips, gripping them tightly and holding you in place tightly against him. “Don't-,” he panted. “Don't do that. Not until you answer me. I won't be able to stop if-”

You cut him off. “I don't want you to stop.”

And that was it. Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer spun you around to face him. “Are you sure?”

You surged forward to kiss him. Your goggles clacked together and you pulled away with a giggle. “Very sure,” you said, pulling your goggles off. Spencer followed suit.

He nodded. “Ok. Ok.” He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself that this was really happening. Despite his nearly painful erection, he tried to be as gentle as he could with you. He reconnected your lips in a tentative kiss as he wrapped his arms around your waist, but with the strange gas the reaction produced was still in the air and still wreaking havoc on both of you, it didn't stay gentle for long. What had started as a hesitant kiss devolved into a harsh collision of teeth and tongue.

Spencer’s hands migrated from your hips to your ass, pulling you flush against him. He couldn't stop the involuntary thrust of his own hips, desperately seeking friction. His mouth separated from yours as he dragged his lips down your jaw and reattached to your neck, sucking harshly and surely leaving dark marks all along the column of your throat.

He lowered his hands just enough for his fingertips to brush the back of your thighs, squeezing twice in a silent indication to jump. You tightened your grip around his shoulders to give you leverage. He hoisted you up to sit on the countertop and pushed your shirt above your breasts. You removed it entirely to give him full access. He groaned as he took in the sight of you breathless before him. “You're so pretty for me,” he praised before roughly pulling the cups of your bra down, exposing your nipples to the chill air of the lab, a stark contrast to the heat that had spread throughout your body so rapidly. He latched his lips to the newly exposed skin, his hand groping the other one. You reached behind your back to unlatch your bra and tossed it aside.

You threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged, pulling him off of your chest and back up to your lips. Both of your patiences were wearing thin, and neither of you could get the other undressed fast enough. You tugged on his tie and it soon joined your bra and shirt on the floor. You continued to unbutton his dress shirt as his eager hands groped at every part of you they could reach. When you’d finally gotten his dress shirt open, he didn't even give you the time to admire his physique and instead pulled you from the counter top to stand again.

He tugged on the waistband of your pants and pushed them down, leaving you to kick the material off of your feet. He quickly spun you around and placed a hand between your shoulder blades, urging you to bend over. You did as he wanted and felt his hands caress and grope your behind before his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and pulled them down just enough to expose your cunt to his hungry eyes. He groaned at the sight. “You're so wet baby. All for me.”

Spencer dropped to his knees behind you and immediately pressed his face between your legs. You squealed at the sudden contact, his tongue doing wonders for the built up need you had for him. He licked a broad stripe up your pussy before alternating between suckling and licking the sensitive flesh. Your whines and whimpers only spurred him on further, becoming more vigorous with his ministrations. The increased intensity had you gasping for breath and calling his name. “That’s right, angel. Who's making you feel this good? Hm? Whose face are you going to cum all over?”

“Yours! Please, Spencer, don't stop!”

He chuckled briefly before resuming his eager lapping at your core. He hummed against you in affirmation, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until the pleasure was just too much to bear. You came with a cry of his name, and he didn't stop until you were begging for a reprieve.

The unnatural heat that had spread throughout your body upon inhalation of the fumes was finally dissipating, leaving you with the normal flush one would expect afterwards. But Spencer was nowhere near recovered, and he had no intentions of letting you go until he was satisfied. He stood from his place on the floor and made quick work of his belt, only pushing his pants low enough to free his aching cock, dripping with precum. He stroked himself as he spoke. “We’re not done yet, angel. Not by a long shot. Not until your sweet cunt is dripping with me.”

His words sent heat racing to your core. Who needs aphrodisiac fumes when Spencer can talk to you like that.

He swiped the tip of his cock through your folds a few times before lining his tip up with your opening. He pressed forward and groaned at the sensation of you squeezing around him so deliciously. He pushed further and further until he bottomed out. His jaw fell slack in complete and utter bliss. “Oh, you feel so good, baby. Can I move? Please, please, I can’t wait any longer,” he begged. You’d let him do anything if he begged you as prettily as he did then.

You hummed in assent, and he wasted no time in pulling out until just the head of his cock remained buried in you and then thrusting back in. You let out a loud moan, already completely overwhelmed with just how good he felt inside of you. The more he thrusted, the needier he got and the more that unnatural heat in his chest smoldered. His hands gripped your hips tightly and he pulled you back to meet him with every thrust into your sopping cunt.

“I'll bet none of those silly little frat boys can make you feel like this, huh. I’ll bet they always leave you unsatisfied. But you're gonna cum for me again, right? You can do that f’me, can't you? Be my good girl and cum all over my cock.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin increased in tempo as he chased his high, wanting nothing more than to feel you clench around him as he emptied himself inside of you. You moaned shamelessly, the deep and harsh thrusts of cock almost too much to bear. You couldn't speak even if you wanted to. The only word you were capable of uttering was his name.

His grunts were turning into whines the closer he got to his impending orgasm. “Cum with me, baby. C’mon, you can do it,” he said, moving one of his hands down to rub circles on your clit. That was all it took to have you creaming around his cock, your orgasm triggering his. The moan that came from him was pure sin as he spilled himself inside your cunt, just as he had promised. He collapsed on top of you, cock softening within you as it twitched with every flutter of your walls around him. When you had both sufficiently caught your breath, he stood back upon and gently pulled himself out of you. You winced at the loss of contact, still extremely sensitive. You pushed yourself off of the workbench and turned to see Spencer tucking himself back into his pants. It was then that you realized you were stark naked in a university laboratory. You saw your panties lying near your feet and you hastily put them back on, followed shortly after by the rest of your clothing, which Spencer helped pick up from the floor where they had been unceremoniously discarded.

“Would you want to get coffee with me sometime?” Spencer asked suddenly, the words spoken so fast they nearly blended together.

You were taken aback. You had expected him to want to pretend this never happened but here was asking you on a date. You grinned, a prominent blush on your face as you accepted his offer.

He beamed, a broad smile overtaking his face. “Great! I’ll pick you up Saturday morning?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I think I can safely assume it won't be the coffee shop on campus?”

“Even though we're the same age, you're still one of my students. So until you finish this course…” he trailed off.

You grabbed his tie and pulled him closer to you until your faces were a hairsbreadth apart. “I’m completely fine with being your dirty little secret until then as long as you fuck me like that again.”

[soubeomies]

꒰୨୧◞ ₊˚ 𝓑𝗈𝗒𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗃𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗒.

⤷ 𝓟𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ﹕ ot6 boynextdoor x fem!reader

⤷ 𝓦𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ﹕ reader is implied to have a “small” body in riwoos

⤷ 𝓖𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ﹕ fluff, crack(ish)

⤷ 𝓦𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝓒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ﹕ 428

⤷ 𝓐𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝓝𝗈𝗍𝖾 ﹕ the title is kinda ugly.. but enjoy!

⤷ 𝓢𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ﹕ boynextdoor and how they’d react when they see you in their jersey whilst they’re in a basketball match.

박성호 〰 SUNGHO

sungho was preparing to shoot his shot, his eyes scanning the crowd to find you. his gaze lands on you as a smile tugged on his lips and— WOAH???? he holds back the urge to just start giggling like a little girl as he sees you in his jersey, cheering for him like the cutie you are. “sungho you can do it!” you exclaim as you squirm in your seat. it was time for him to shoot and.. SHIT! he accidentally threw the basketball in your direction..

이상혁 〰 RIWOO

his eyes would LIGHT UP with the sight of you in his jersey. seeing your small body get engulfed in his jersey, oh he could melt right then and there. he would be the most precious about it, smiling the whole match. i guess he has new-found motivation! (he would totally try-hard to try and impress you especially when you’re in his jersey)

명재현 〰 JAEHYUN

would be the most giggly out of everyone, getting all distracted aswell. his teammate would scream at him to pass the ball, but all he does is get lost in his little world. staring at you like there’s no tomorrow. he can never get enough of the sight. you in his jersey, he would probably insist on you wearing his jersey for all of his future matches

한동민 〰 TAESAN

will try to be nonchalant about it but fails miserably it’s so funny. he would try to keep a straight face, but the small smile tugging on his lips say otherwise. he’s practically fighting the smile off, but at this point it’s physically impossible. he would be shooting the basketball to the hoop, a visible grin on his face because he just gave up to hide it.

김동현 〰 LEEHAN

lowkey would be cocky and flirty about it oh my GOSH HAVE MERCY. he would steal glances, wink at you, smirk at you… this man is RIZZING you up. but inside, his heart is thumping in his chest. he feels like he’s gonna die if he looks at you for too long, though he has to keep up his flirty behaviour!

김운학 〰 WOONHAK

woonhak.exe has stopped working. does not know how to respond. he tries to not look at you, knowing that if he did, he’d instantly fold and drop the basketball. his goal was to just look everywhere but your way— and he failed. he did the complete opposite, he genuinely couldn’t take his eyes off of you. he stares at you till’ his coach scolds him to pay attention to the game. the embarrassment makes his cheeks redder even though they’re already bright red.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ networks : @kstrucknet @k-nets

© soubeomies 2024 all rights reserved ♡ do not copy/repost my works.

[natlovesls2]

Stupid In Love

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Word count: 5k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Warnings: fluff, slight angst and arguments, reader is written as American but only mentioned a few times, brief use of one bed trope, possible grammatical errors, no use of y/n, switches pov and might not be obvious, a little rushed, swearing, alcohol, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), American football, images used are not mine as are from pinterest, was written before Logans replacement =(

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Summary: Your sister invites you to her wedding, theres only one problem: you're single and your family has already been pressuring you about it. Logan offers to be your date, what can go wrong? or you and Logan being oblivious about your feeling for one another while fake dating

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

You’re unsure of how or why you fell in love with Logan, but you fell hard and fast– so fast that it made it impossible for you to catch yourself before it was too late. What you did know was that your feelings were not reciprocated. Despite what your shared friends said, Logan was not in love with you, and he definitely did not look at you as if you hung up the moon and the stars. Though you were an idiot when it came to love, there was only one thing worse than someone who is an idiot about love. That is an idiot in love, and that's what you were– stupidly in love. 

“My sister is getting married, and our parents have made it their mission to rub it in my face. They act like I’m pushing fifty– I’m only twenty fucking two that's not old,” you groaned, letting your body drop onto the couch in your living room. 

Logan watched you from across the room– face scrunching up at the mention of your parent's comments, “That's definitely not old, so what if you're not dating someone? There are more important things in life.”

“They think otherwise; they think that my life is a failure because I’ve never been in a serious relationship, or at least not one I considered serious– like that somehow defines me as a person,” the sound of rustling in the kitchen catching your attention, “Are you seriously eating without me?” you ask, instantly sitting up, looking in the direction of the kitchen.

“No.”

“You’re a horrible liar; you're literally talking with your mouth full right now.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. But seriously, what's so bad about your sister getting married? Besides the comments made by your parents?” Logan asked, handing you a french fry as you approached the kitchen. 

“Nothing is wrong; she just had the bright idea of giving me a plus one; can you believe her? That fucking cunt, she knows I’m a pathetic loser with no love life, and she still gave me a plus one,” you dramatically shove food into your mouth.

“She did not,” Logan said, letting out an overdramatic fake gasp before breaking into a fit of laughter– bending over slightly and holding onto his stomach. He was a good friend– a great one even, but now, as he stood there laughing, you couldn't help but feel annoyed. It wasn't annoyment because of the situation or the fact that he was laughing at the situation– no, you were annoyed at the fact that he looked so good doing it. 

“You’re an asshole; stop laughing at me,” you say, throwing a french fry at Logan from across your kitchen island, watching as he attempts to catch it with his mouth and failing miserably. Even something so minuscule as that action, something he usually did when you threw food at him, caught your attention. 

“It’s not the end of the world; it’s just a wedding,” Logan threw food back at you, his smile falling as he noticed your pensive stare. 

“Yeah, a wedding where I’ll be hounded about finding a boyfriend and potential husband,” you let your head fall against the kitchen counter, letting out a loud sigh, silently whispering to yourself– asking the universe what you had done wrong to deserve this fate.

“If you’re really worried about getting made fun of, I’ll go with you. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend,” he said nonchalantly, and you felt him rest his head beside yours against the counter. You turn to face him, opening your eyes to meet his own, and you immediately notice he's smiling again. A soft smile that makes your stomach feel fuzzy– the type of fuzzy you probably shouldn't be feeling. You could almost feel yourself shifting your head towards his own, but it never moved. It was a good thing, though you couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself. Logan was your friend– you could probably consider him your best friend, yet here you were, feeling like a fool. 

“Really? You’re not joking right now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, afraid that the tone of your voice would betray you and reveal your thoughts and feelings.

“Not joking, I’ll do it," he straightens himself, resting his elbow on the counter, tilting his head, waiting for your response.

“You’re an angel, Logan,” you jump from your position to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly– you're sure you're cutting off his air supply. Though he'd never complain, Logan had never been the type to complain when you hugged him too tightly. It was something you never understood about him, why he put up with so much of your bullshit– the sudden wedding invitation included.

“Only for you,” he hugged you back, though not as tight as you were hugging him, gently patting your back, “So when’s the wedding?”

“In a month.”

“Oh, wow… you could’ve told me sooner,” his voice full of shock and disbelief as he pried himself out of the hug to look at you.You couldn't help but feel disappointed at the lack of close physical contact– something you rarely felt. Whenever you ended a hug with Logan, you felt normal, as if it were any other hug. This felt different, a type of difference that you couldn't quite place. Maybe it was fear, or maybe you just didn't know the feeling– all you knew was that you were glad you would have time with him on this trip.

“Well, I sorta thought I’d have a date by now,” you said, voice dripping with melancholy and regret. For a while, the first three months since you got the invitation, to be exact, you had hoped and expected to find a date. You had come close to doing so, falling short every time, realizing that you had high standards that most men did not meet. But as you stared at Logan, you wondered if perhaps, this whole time, you had been waiting for him– not him in particular, but someone like him. 

“Okay, well, where is the wedding being held?”

“My parents' house, where we grew up. It's a ranch, nothing too crazy,” you could already imagine the fresh air of the property and the salty breeze of the nearby beach. The thought of relaxation quickly crashed by the topic of your current conversation– the wedding. Of course, there would be no relaxation during a wedding, especially not at your sister's wedding, where you would have to pretend to be dating your best friend. 

“So more of a family only with a few friends, type of wedding?”

“Exactly,” you took a bite of the food that had gone forgotten for a moment, “I owe you big time,” you assured Logan. It would be shitty of you if you didn't at least offer up the idea of being indebted to him– though, truthfully, you knew Logan would never hold this above you, let alone actually make you pay the debt. 

“Yeah, you do.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The drive to your parent's house from the airport is quiet, the argument from before still lingering between you. You feel Logan’s eyes occasionally dart between you and the road. He lets out a deep sigh, pulling over at a shoulder, turning off the ignition, and turning to face you— his eyes examining you as you look straight ahead. You could sense his hesitation, but refused to acknowledge the situation, still mad at what he had done earlier. The road was eerily empty, and as the sun set, the approaching night seemed to set the mood for the current state of your friendship— cold and dimming. 

“This was a mistake,” you finally say, turning to look at Logan, watching as he shakes his head— dryly laughing at your words.

“This would’ve been fine if you had told me your family was still close to your ex,” you can tell he is attempting to keep a calm demeanor, voice tense with a slight shake. 

“I didn’t think it was important,” you feel frustrated with the situation, and your voice showed it. You had meant for it to sound that way– you weren't mad at Logan; you could never be mad at him... or maybe you were.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell your date that your ex-boyfriend will be there too?” his eyes wide with disbelief at the audacity of your statements. You, of course, felt as if he was exaggerating– making a big deal out of something as small as a family friendship.

“This is fake, Logan— this isn’t a real date. It’s not like I had an actual obligation to tell you!” you yelled at him, mind foggy– you weren't thinking straight, aggravated in the situation at hand, and annoyed with your sister more than anything. Though you could feel your anger and frustration with Logan rise. 

He goes quiet, jaw clenching and hand gripping the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles are turning white, as he angrily turns the car back on. You were unsure if you should break the silence, afraid to further escalate the situation. The tension only grew the further he drove and the closer you got to your childhood home.

"Look, I'm sorry for overreacting. I know we're not actually dating, but I want your family to like me," he finally says as you arrive at your destination, nervously running his hand through his hair. 

"Hmm."

"Please don't be mad," he placed his head against the steering wheel, mumbling to himself-- you couldn't quite hear all that he said. Though you caught something about being an idiot and always ruining everything. 

"I'm not mad, and I'm sure my family will love you; who wouldn't?"

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Jade, this is Logan; Logan, this is my sister, Jade,” you introduce Logan and your sister, awkwardly motioning between them. 

“Hi, it's nice to meet you,” Logan stretches out his hand for your sister to shake, but instead, he is pulled into a big hug.

“Nice to meet you too,” She pulls away from the hug, looking Logan up and down– smiling widely, “My god, sis, you didn’t tell me you were dating someone this good-looking.”

“Jade, don’t.”

“What? He’s hot,” she insists, looking him up and down-- causing you an overwhelming amount of embarrassment. 

“God, I am so sorry,” you quickly say to Logan; you wished the earth would open up at that moment and swallow you whole. Your sister had the tendency to embarrass you, constantly bringing up your past cringe moments. Like the time you stuffed your bra in middle school, and she, for some reason, brought it up a few years later in front of your prom date. It wasn't that she did it with some malicious intent; she just happened to have no grasp on boundaries and social cues.

“No, no, it's fine,” he said with a slightly amused smile, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. He always got a kick out of seeing you embarrassed, and you knew this would be something he teased you about later. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long; so much has changed since you’ve been gone,” she says, holding up her left hand to show off her ring with a wide smile. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“The old barn was turned into a little studio, so that’s where you two will be staying,” She leads you to the old barn, unlocking it and giving you a small tour. “Mom and Dad will be home later, but honestly, they probably won't bother you. Especially Dad, he's in a mood, but I’m sure Mom will drop by to say hello,” she says, standing near the front door, smiling at you and Logan, “There’s only one bed, so I’m sure you two will have fun, if you know what I mean,” violently winking at you. 

“Please ignore her; she's just trying to embarrass me– more than she already has,” you tell him, ushering your sister out of the studio. “Has she ever told you about that time in middle school when…” you quickly shut the door behind her before she can say anything and turn back to Logan, who is standing there with a small smile. You can't help but wonder why he's smiling or what he's smiling at. You can almost feel yourself smiling back– almost, but you stop yourself.

“Well I like your family so far.”

“You've only met my sister.”

“Yeah, but she’s fun,” he says, following you into the small kitchen, leaning against the door frame. 

“Whatever, you say. I was thinking I'll take the couch and you take the bed.”

“No way, there is no way my fake girlfriend, but very real best friend, is sleeping on the couch,” he protests, pushing himself off of the door frame to stand besides you as you rummage through the refrigerator. 

“Well, I won’t allow my guest to sleep on the couch.”

“We can share the bed, just put a pillow barrier between us.”

“Pillow barrier? What are we twelve?” you scoff, turning to look at Logan, eyebrows raised in exasperation. 

“Right, so I’ll take the couch.”

“You are not sleeping on the couch, Logan!” voice raised as your frustration with the situation continues to grow.

“Alright, I’ll sleep on the floor if that's what you want,” he said, attempting to hold back a smile, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Then lets share the bed”

“Fine!” you finally give in, knowing that there was no winning against Logan and you'd much rather save your sanity. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to shower; do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No, but I’ll make us lunch.”

“Alright, thank you,” he said, hesitating as if he wanted to say something else before walking out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“What are you doing?”

“Putting up the pillow barrier”

“I thought you said we weren’t twelve?” he asked with a teasing smile. You stared at him blankly, unsure if how to respond, watching as he lay on the left side of bed. “Come on, just lay down already,” he removed the pillow barrier, hugging one of the pillows as he patted the empty spot on the bed. 

Hesitantly you laid on your spot, turning to look at him, “You’re so weird.”

Logan let out a chuckle, “Yeah, but you love me,” he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah,” you responded, closing your eyes– and you truly did mean it, you loved him. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You expected the rehearsal dinner to make you uncomfortable, but you weren't fully prepared– hoping it would pass like a blur you wouldn’t remember. That, of course, had been foolish-- as you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself, you couldn't help but feel the oncoming dread. 

“What's wrong?” Logan asks, coming to stand beside you, carefully fixing his shirt in the reflection, “You look like you'll throw up at any moment.”

Your expression is blank, lips shut tight and unmoving despite having been asked a question. It felt as if you were unable to speak, afraid to open your mouth and vomit before having anything to eat or drink, “I just… I’m nervous,” you play with the hem of your dress, flattening the bottom of it and using it as an excuse to wipe away the clamminess of your hands. 

“You look beautiful. I’m sure everything will go smoothly, and I’ll be by your side the whole time, I promise,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head, placing a small kiss on your forehead.

⊹˚₊‧──────────��‧₊˚⊹

You stood at the edge of the rehearsal dinner event, Logan by your side, as you watched the people around you socialize. In the center of the backyard was a long table with plates and glasses. Family from both sides and close friends are scattered around the yard as your sister and her fiance make their way around the place, speaking to everyone. 

“I’m glad you finally have someone in your life, little Jade,” your sister's fiance, Mark, commented as they approached you and Logan. “Jade told me all about you, and I’m not going to lie, I googled you,” he laughed, patting Logan on the back in a friendly manner as if they were old friends. 

“Find anything interesting?” Logan asks with an intrigued smile on his face. You're relieved that he isn't absolutely weirded out about being googled.

“Just the usual, that you're from Florida– and that's just rubbing me the wrong way. I also read that you're a Dolphins fan, and I’m a Niners fan sooo...”

“I think we can put football behind us,” Logan laughs lightly; you can't help but admire his laugh. It's the type of laugh that brings a smile to your face and warms your heart.

“Oh, definitely; I think you and I will be great friends. We’re practically family now; you better not break my sister-in-law's heart. I’m watching you, carboy,” he warns, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ hand motion as he walks off with your sister. 

“He seems nice,” Logan says with a small smile, subconsciously wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Wait, did he call me carboy?” he asks, turning to look in the direction they had just left. 

“Yeah he did, he’s something, but he definitely likes you,” You smile up at him— your smile growing wider as you notice your father approaching the both of you. 

“Papa, this is–”

“I’m Logan, her boyfriend,” he interrupts you, stretching out his hand to shake your father's hand. 

Your father looked Logan up and down, analyzing the way he dressed, what he said, and especially how he held himself. He ignores Logan's outstretched hand, brows furrowing as he turns to look at you with a stern look. Your smile falters as you watch Logan's hand fall back to his side, and your father walks away from your conversation. 

“That went well,” Logan's voice was filled with sarcasm as he watched your father approach a young man your age, “Who is he talking to?”

“Hm?” you turn in the direction your father left in, body tensing as you see who he is currently conversing with. Micheal, your ex-boyfriend of three years– the guy your parents so desperately wanted you to get back together with. The guy you had thought you would marry and eventually have kids with. “That's THE ex-boyfriend.”

Logan scoffs, your father's sudden coldness making sense; he was the outsider causing the rift between you and the man your father wanted to see you with. You had hoped he would be accepting of Logan; he was usually a wholehearted person– the type to treat someone as if they had known each other their whole life. This was something you had always loved and admired about him, though the way he was acting today was the exact opposite of that. 

“Don’t think too much into it; let's just focus on what we have to do. We can talk to other people; my mom loves you.”

“Yeah, but your dad is definitely still in love with your ex. What are you going to do when you bring a real boyfriend to meet your dad?”

“I haven’t thought of that… oh god, don’t turn,” your warning goes unheard as Logan turns to see your ex-boyfriend walking towards the both of you. 

“So you're my replacement,” Michael rolled his eyes at Logan, face full of disgust, as if he was above Logan. 

“Nice to meet you; I’m Logan,” Logan straightened his back, clearly attempting to show Michael that he was not intimidated by him.

“Where'd you find him anyway?” Michael asks you, refusing to acknowledge Logan, let alone look at him. 

“That's really none of your business.”

He looked Logan up and down, as your father had, scoffing at Logan– as if he were better than Logan. You knew this was what he was thinking; he had always had a superiority complex during your relationship. Constantly reminding you that he would always be the best you could have. It was one of, if not the main reason you had decided to break up with him. However, he had charmed your family– your father, in particular, was in love with him.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, baby,” Michael took a step forward, attempting to get closer to you.

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” Logan says, stepping between you and Michael with a stern look on his face.

“She doesn't love you; she was still texting me a few months ago. Did she tell you that?”

Logan turned to you, face showing slight betrayment– you were unsure of how to respond or what to do. You could slightly remember the text messages, mostly started by him, but you had still responded. Maybe it was out of boredom or sheer loneliness you had felt– or the complicated feelings you felt towards Logan.

“That doesn't give you the right to insult her,” Logan pushes Michael back with two fingers.

“Whatever, enjoy my leftovers– and know that her family will never accept you.” Michael walked away from the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to be here anymore; you regretted dragging Logan into the situation. This would only ruin your opportunity to confess your feelings. Why would he ever want to date you knowing that your father had a weird attachment to your ex-boyfriend? Who would willingly put up with that; certainly not Logan. 

“Why does your dad even like him? He’s a piece of shit.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t act like that around my parents; I guess he has them fooled.”

Soon, you all found yourself seated around the long table; to your horrible luck, you had been seated across from Michael. You weren't sure what came over you when you grabbed Logan's hand; perhaps it was nervousness or the shaking feeling you felt-- his hand served as an anchor in your opinion. It was keeping you from losing your mind as Michael smirked at you from across the table. 

"Are you okay?" Logan whispers, gently squeezing your hand-- attempting to reassure you and alleviate your many worries, leaning into you. When you don't respond, Logan takes it as his sign to continue talking to you, "I've got you, don't worry."

The sound of glass being tapped draws your attention to the foot of the long table, where your sister and her fiance stand. "I want to thank all of you for coming. It means so much to both Mark and I. To my parents, thank you for all the love and support you have shown during these past few days. To my sister, you have been the best sister anyone could ask for; I can only hope your wedding is next," Jade winks in Logan's direction, causing him to laugh, and your father glares at both your sister and Logan.

You smiled at Logan, and for a moment, you forgot it was all fake. It felt as if he was actually in love with you, as in love as you were. And as the night grew, so did your love for Logan. You were certain you were in love with him, and as delusional as it sounded, you hoped– longed for him to love you back.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The wedding ceremony had gone smoothly, it had been perfect and everything you could have imagined for your sister. That had never worried you much, you knew no one would have dared to ruin the ceremony. What did, however, worry you was the reception. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for some idiot drunken relative to cause a scene as they often did. And as you downed your fifth drink you began to think that the idiot might be you. 

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” Logan says, placing a hand on the small of your back. His sudden appearance snapping you out of your thoughts as he leaned against the section of the bar beside you. 

“Been here since the party started.”

“Hm, how much have you had to drink?” he asks, a concerned look etched onto his perfect face… perfectly kissable face. 

“Mm, not much. I could use a few more drinks” your words slurred and do little to convince Logan that you're not beyond your limit. 

“Let's just get some water in your system, yeah?”

“Nooooo,” you whine like a petulant child. 

He moves his hand that was resting on your back down to your hip, gently guiding you towards your assigned table.  You protest and grumble the whole way there, secretly loving the way his hand feels against your hip– so strong and warm. Logan sits you down in one of the empty chairs, giving the other people at the table a weak smile. 

“Drink up,” he says, gently placing a glass of water in your hand. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whine, dropping your head to rest against the table.

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

“You should like my mom,” You can feel his eyes on you, and you can almost imagine the small smile on his face. 

“Come on sweetheart, you gotta drink some water,” he says, voice softening, nudging your foot with his own. 

“Don’t call me that,” you lift your head off the table to look at him, throat tightening at the term of endearment. The whole place was spinning, your vision blurring a bit, the words in your mind jumbling together, “Don’t– don’t call me that,’ you repeat. 

“Why not? You’ve never minded the nickname.”

“‘Cause I’ll get used to it and I can’t get used to it.”

Logan started at you, confusion etching his face, and god if it didn't take every last bit of restraint in you to not lean over and kiss him. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked in a whispered tone. 

“I– I love you,” you drunkenly confess, eyes blown out wide– you were sure you looked insane. 

“You’re drunk.”

"I love you and you don't love me–" you start, Logan’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Stop it. You can’t be saying things that you’ll regret in the morning.”

"You didn't deny not loving me," you say, voice dripping with embarrassment, tears beginning to sting at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you”

"God, I feel like such a fucking idiot– just leave me the fuck alone," you drop your head back down, choking on your words, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. 

He hesitates for a moment as if debating what to do, he lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping, “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You sat at the back of the property, swinging on one of two swings overlooking the open meadow. The past few days replaying in your mind: the fight with Logan, the rehearsal dinner, and the actual wedding. The wedding… everything had come undone, there was no more hiding your feelings or attempting to disguise them as a friendship. 

“I was looking for you,” Logan said, sitting on the swing beside you, watching you closely. 

“Look, I’m sorry about last night,” you whispered, your gaze set on the scenery in front of you in an attempt to avoid looking at him. He let out a sigh attempting to find the right words, worried he’d ruin everything.

“You remember what happened?”

“No, but apparently Jade found me crying and I confessed everything.” It had been embarrassing, having to admit to your sister that everything had been a lie and that you had an unrequited love for your best friend. She, being the greatest sister of all time, calmed you down and comforted you despite having made a fool of yourself at her wedding reception. “I’m not upset that you don’t love me like that. I totally understand and hope we can still be friends.” It wasn’t an exact lie, you did want to be friends, even if it would pain you– but you’d eventually get over him, right?

“No.”

“No? As in we can’t be friends? Because that's fine too, I understand that I made things awkward,” you rambled, just wanting this whole to be over with, nervously picking at the lint of your old sweater that you now realized had once belonged to Logan. 

“God, you really are an idiot.”

Your head snapped to look at him, confusion written all over your face, your mind reeled at his comment. Your mouth opened slightly in preparation to respond, but you were unable to find the words. What did he even mean by that? 

“I love you too, dumbass, so damn much,” he let out a small nervous chuckle, smiling at you, reaching to grab your hand.

“You do?”

“Yes, I can’t imagine a life where I see you with someone else and I feel comfortable with that.” You searched his face for any hint of insincerity, any hint that this may be some sort of cruel joke. But you knew Logan, and you knew that he would never do something so twisted. “I want to kiss you; can I kiss you?” he asked softly, hesitantly reaching out to cup your cheek.

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning into him, letting out a shaky breath as your lips meet. Suddenly you were unusually aware of the clamminess of your hands and the pounding of your heart. His lips were warm, a deep contrast to the cold morning air that had been biting at you earlier. Logan's hand moved to tangle itself into your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if he was scared you'd disappear– as if you were part of a dream and he'd wake up any moment. You suppose that's why the kiss had suddenly felt rough and sloppy as he ran his tongue against your lower lip. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against your own, smiling at you, “So you’ll let me take you out on a real date?”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: This is the longest fic I've every written and I'm afraid it's not that good. I literally started this in, I want to say, January but honestly I have no clue. I'm just happy its done and I have the inspiration to write shitty stuff again.

[reiincarnatiion]

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part one

summary : 3 sisters for 3 brothers....right? Azriel believes wholeheartedly that Elain should be his mate and in doing so ignores his deep feelings for you.

🧚‍♀️

a/n : I haven't written in like 6 years since my draco malfoy and kpop fanfictions HAHA so please forgive me I am rusty!! Also I wrote this on my phone eeee

but finally eee I'm so excited to post my first writing on tumblr !! I was always a quotev and wattpad girly but here I am finally... 💗

just writing some rough short stories rn but I'll def write more as I get more comfortable again and into the rhythm! let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

ps: it's not proof read cuz I'm lazy I'm so sorry so please ignore mistakes dearies

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You watched as Azriel bent down to whisper something into Elains ear and you felt a growl beginning to build up in your throat.

You didn't know the mating bond did this ; make one so possessive and jealous that the half-moon nail marks on your palms had become blood red, from gripping your fists too strongly.

"I just don't understand why you can't tell him," a voice whispers next to you. You turn to acknowledge Mor, as she slips in next to you into the booth.

"Because the moment I do, this whole dynamic changes Mor," you whisper back, indicating to the sprawl of people around you.

You guys had come to Rita's once again, to party, drink, kiss and do other nonsense things Cassian had eagerly talked about, whilst pitching the idea to the group. It had started off fun, with everyone talking together but as the night had progressed, they had all paired off. You could see Feyre and Rhys making out in the corner of your eyes and Nesta and Cassian dancing around each other on the club floor. Elain and Azriel had also innocently gotten up and moved to another table, using a range of excuses you hadn't bothered to process.

Even Mor had a female making eyes at her from afar.

"Then change the dynamic, Y/N. I need some excitement in my life," she whispered furiously again and slid out, stalking to the female at the bar.

Groaning you sunk into the booth, left alone to your thoughts plagued by one thing only, Azriel.

The repetitive music slowly faded out, as you downed drink after drink, watching the others around you mingle and grind away into the depths of the night. They would come past your table and say a few words before being dragged away again.

But not once did he come. Not once did he even look in your direction... and it infuriated you.

"You look more miserable than me,"

You blinked, looking up to focus in on the flop of red hair, braids and whizzing metallic eye and a handsome jawline.

"Lucien!!!" you let out a whine, attempting to get up but falling back down in the process, not having realised how much strong alcohol you had consumed in the last hour.

"Woah there stargirl," he slipped in next to you, using the nickname only he used for you.

Lucien and you had met on Starfall, as you had been leaning on the balcony, apparently being half a second from falling over because of your drunk eagerness to "catch one of the stars", and since then, he had named you Stargirl. Your friendship had blossomed due to your matching humour and desire to travel the realms.

His shoulder pressed up against you, his warmth spread through you, making you feel giddy. You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or your desperation, as you abruptly laid a hand on his thigh.

If he noticed, he didn't show it as he took a swig of one of the elixirs that you had in your hand.

As he drank, you watched his eyes zero in on his elusive mate and you swore you saw them darken.

His scent visibly changed as he placed the now empty cup back on the table with a lethal fluidness that had you wondering how good he was at controlling his emotions.

"Its a shame we are mated to the wrong people, otherwise you and I would have ruled the world" he whispers, still not looking at you.

Your breath catching in your throat, your heavy heart pangs with emotion, exaggerated from the effects of the ethanol.

"At least she knows you are her mate Lucien... he doesn't even know about me," you miserably mutter.

You feel Luciens hot gaze rest on you as you look up into his deep eyes.

There's no doubt the turmoil of seeing each other's mates together shines in both of your eyes, but behind the pathetic nature of the situation, a force glint shines through his.

"Then why don't we tell him, Y/N," he urges, a smirk growing on his face.

Your heart drops as you make eye contact with Lucien, his eyes glinting with jealousy and anger.

You had never seen Lucien ever break his calm facades, he always would take whatever Elain would throw at him ; why was he so fired up tonight?

"You have always been so kind to Elain and given her time Lucien, why do you want to make her jealous now?" you voice your thoughts, causing him to look away, as you attempt to search his eyes.

Little did you know or feel, the dark cool gaze that had been assessing you since the moment Lucien had slipped in.

If one were to look through your party at this moment in time, the looks of longing and jealously swirling between you and Lucien could easily have been interpreted as longing and hunger for each other. With now, your full body turned to him, intimately touching him, shoulder to shoulder, anyone could mistake you as a couple.

---

Azriel nodded patiently as he listened to Elain talk about the new plants she wished to acquire from the Dawn Court for her garden.

He was trying so hard to listen and be attentive, but it was difficult when his shadows were buzzing about him, even more frantically, with the effects of the alcohol he had been consuming throughout the night.

He knew the amount of pumps of the vanilla perfume you had sprayed onto yourself, he knew how many times you had sighed throughout the night and he knew of the half-moon marks on your hands. His shadows told him everything, even when he didn't want to know.

For he didn't want to know the looks Lucien and you were giving each other, he didn't want to acknowledge the clenching of your thighs or the hand on your thigh or the-

"-So what do you think Azriel?"

Elains sweet voice cut in deeply through his silent spiralling, as he hummed coming back to the present.

Her big doe eyes innocently looked up at him as he racked his brain for what she had been asking about.

"YES I think the plants would be wonderful-," he began, when his shadows started screaming, "Elain excuse me one moment."

He quickly got up, his eyes narrow and jaw clenching as he went to get out of the booth in haste.

Elains eyes followed him and they widened slightly.

Luciens' hands were on your waist, holding you up from behind, as you both made your way to the dance floor, giggling.

---

read [ part two ] here deariess <3

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine finding Mihawk after an argument with Shanks…

Mihawk huffed. He listened to what brought you to his company and he truly wished he was at the bottom of the Grand Line.

“You cannot be my shadow each time you have a disagreement with your red-haired fool.” He deadpanned and took a sip of his wine. “I’ve seen enough of your lovers spats to know how this turns out.”

You tapped the bar to signal for another round of mind-numbing rum, eyeing the amber liquid as it was dispensed like a hawk.

“This time it’s different. I’m not going back.” You muttered.

Mihawk rolled his eyes. It was always the same story. You and Shanks would argue. You’d storm off and find Mihawk to drink and dull the pain with ample ranting. Then one of two things would happen, either Shanks sought you out or you would sail back to what ever island he was passed out on.

But as Mihawk learned very quickly - this time it was different.

Two days passed and you were still at his side, nursing yet another hangover much to Mihawk’s chagrin. He had finally grew tired of your threats to throw up aboard his ship so he docked and waited for Shanks to show. But he didn't come for you.

Fours days in and no attempts of reconciliation resulted in you shadowing Mihawk in anything he did. It irked him to no end but the Warlord couldn't find it in himself to chase you off.

When the World Government called upon Mihawk’s services to ‘take care of’ a rapidly growing pirate armada on Day Seven, you offered to join the mission.

“Absolutely not.” Mihawk refused almost immediately. He wasn’t going to risk your life and then carry your body back to Shanks.

He didn’t offer funeral services.

The pirate began to walk away noticing the way you trailed after him. “Hey - I’m damn good with a sword,” when he said nothing, you jumped in front to force the pirate to a stop. “I can do this.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes. “And what happens if you can’t?”

You stepped back, a broken expression settling on your features that made Mihawk feel something akin to guilty.

“You’re just like him.” You whispered. “I prove myself time and time again and you both refuse to see it.”

“That’s not what I- you are very capable Y/n. I only meant...”

Your name was suddenly called out from a distance. Heads turning to the shore, you saw a small boat and a shadowy figure hurrying in your direction. At first you thought it was Shanks but when the hair lacked his vibrant red, your heart returned to its dark hole.

It was Yasopp. The marksman bending forward and huffing to recollect his breath when he reached you and Mihawk.

“Great. More people.” Mihawk mumbled under his breath.

Ignoring the comment, you addressed the pirate. “Yasopp? What are you doing here?”

“It’s Shanks.” The man panted. “He’s miserable and what’s worse is that he’s even more reckless.”

You frowned. “Did he send you to get me?”

Yasopp finally straightened up but there was no excitement to answering your question. “Beckmann did when he heard that the Captain wanted to take on the Marine Base at Coral Cove. You're the only one who can convince him otherwise.”

Your eyes widened. Shanks being reckless was a dangerous thing and Coral Cove was no joking matter. You had heard of awful things that happened to pirates who set foot on its shore.

If Shanks was trying to get your attention, it was working.

You stepped forward to follow Yasopp back to the Red Force when the blade of Yoru swiped before you, holding you back.

Looking up at Mihawk, you saw him glaring at your friend with his golden eyes.

“Y/n isn’t going anywhere. That one-armed fool can come here himself if he’s that desperate.” He said.

You touched the hilt of the sword with the intention to push it down but there was more luck in moving a mountain.

“Mihawk, Shanks is…”

“He is playing a game to have you run back to his side. And as much as I want to be rid of you, I will not let you forsake your dignity.” Mihawk replied without shifting his focus. “You can tell your Captain that Y/n will not leave my side until he shows his face. We will be on the Wave Coast sinking an armada.”

You hadn’t expected Mihawk to have such fierce support but you appreciated it. Looking at the pirate who was waiting, you sent him a nod and Yasopp caught the drift returning to his ship to relay the news.

Mihawk finally exhaled and turned to you. “Let’s go.”

Following him to his ship, you watched as he climbed in. You had never walked into a huge battle without the Red-Haired pirates at your side so it was new and daunting.

“Any advice?” You asked the Warlord, stepping aboard.

Mihawk took a seat and stared at the open sea. “Don’t die.”

He'd keep you safe during the fight. Then once the conflict was over, he was going to pay Shanks a visit.

The idiot would lose a leg if he didn't apologise and whisk you away by sundown.

~ More imagines here ~

[sstrwbrryccke]

uhm... so basically this post was originally an ask but tumblr deleted it...😭 ANYWAYS! the original ask was from @soobinsonly1bf and the prompt was one-sided window sex! (thank u em ur my saviour…)

— exposed | sub choi soobin

tags: window sex, public fondling, lingerie, handjob (soob receiving), amab reader (no pronouns, only genitalia), anal sex, perv soob, exhibitionism

“i’ll be relying on you! thank you!” the faint voice of your friend blares on the other end before you hang up. an overseas venture of one of your good friends had suddenly left you in charge of their clothing store. it was flattering that they thought you were responsible enough to look after their shop, but it also meant you had to take a few days off your calendar just to monitor the store.

first things first, you should check up on the shop and make sure everything’s in place, good thing the store’s closed today, otherwise you might be rushing around already. the clothing store was situated in the middle of a very busy shopping centre, with many bustling shoppers roaming around.

light fixture, check, working ventilation, check, air conditioning, check, needy boyfriend spamming your dms? not check.

you rolled your eyes in amusement as your dms lit up for the fifth time. what a clingy man he was. you text back and you could almost hear his whining from behind the screen.

‘where are you?’

‘my friends store, remember’

‘can i come’

the text flashed up in the dim store and you took a second to consider if it was a good idea or not to bring your oversized baby over to the store. actually whatever, bringing your boyfriend over was always a good idea because he was your boyfriend!

‘im sharing my location’

it doesnt take long until you see the tall figure of your boyfriend peeking out from the locked door, he sticks his face right up to the glass door, his eyes squinting as if trying to see into the dark store. you surprise him by opening the door, causing him to nearly trip forward. thankfully catching himself just before he embarrassed himself not only in front of you but also the other shoppers.

“what are you doing? you’re so goofy.” you close and lock the door again when he comes in, he looks around the store, in awe.

“woah, all the windows are one-sided.”

you shrug, some stores were just like that. you didn’t pay it any mind as you continued to do your check-up on the store. soobin did his mini check-up on the store too, which was really just him roaming around and browsing the racks of clothing.

“they have lingerie.”

his voice rang out from the other side of the store, and at first you just roll your eyes at him. what a pervert, of course the first thing he does is oogle at the store’s extensive collection of sexy clothing.

“what? you wanna try it on?” you just joke without a thought, hands busy setting up a shelf of socks. when there was no reply for a while, you take a concerned glance over his direction, only to see him intensely staring at a white lacy panty. blush on his cheeks.

he didn’t even notice you making your way to his direction, until you were right in front of him, he seems to startle back to life— shoving the panty roughly back into the rack— failing miserably as the clothing misses and falls flat to the floor. he looks guilty and embarrassed, a sheepish smile on his face, eyes wide.

you slowly pick up the item. holding it up and observing it, before your eyes rake up his body and to his eyes.

“put it on.”

his breath hitches at your change of tone, eyes glancing down to the lingerie and then at you. you beckon the item closer until he takes it into his shaky hands, stepping back, towards the changing room—

“no, here. put it on here.”

you stop him, finger pointing at where you stood. he nervously shuffles, glancing repeatedly down at the panty and then at you.

“we’re… in public” he stammers, you turn your head to the large window expanse, just outside was a bustling crowd of shoppers, some taking a look at the closed store. their laughter and chatting muffled.

“it’s one-sided, remember. give them a show.”

you smirk at him, and he gulps down his nervousness. slowly, a tenacious hand comes up and he unbuttons his shirt. his eyes keeps shifting up to your gaze, and then the window as he exposed his chest. then came his pants, when he lowered down to his boxers, you whistled. he was hard, precum wetting the fabric and outlining the clear figure of his cock. he shyly kicks his remaining pants off, it takes a little more mental preparation before he makes progress on his boxers. your eyes eat his body up hungrily, devouring the way his lean body shifted, nervous sweat running down his chest. the way his exposed dick twitched as it hit the cool air. he slips on the lacy panty, precum immediately wetting the fabric.

“i’m done.” he nervously mumbled, feeling more exposed with the panty on. you lick your lips habitually, hands coming up to stroke his sides. you take him by the waist, pressing his back to your chest as you walk him up to the window. he immediately freezes, shoulders bunched as his big eyes glance at the faces of each passerby. two high school girls had walked up and started to check themselves out in the window.

you could feel his fear as you fondle him through the fabric, his body was trembling, hands sweaty and stomach stiff. you lick a strip of his nape up to his ear. “look soobin, they’re staring at you.”

a low whimper trembles out from his lips, and his legs nearly give out under him if it werent for you holding him up. you stroke up from his chest down to his stomach and navel, playing with the band of his panty. causing his whole body to shiver.

snap.

he jolts, breath quickening when he realises one of the girls had taken a photo. your hand shoves down into his underwear and grasps his cock, the other hand sliding behind and playing with the rim of his hole, sliding a finger in and you realise he was already loose. he moans out loudly this time, before quickly biting his lips in realisation, they couldn’t see, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t hear.

“did you already prepare yourself?”

you raise an eyebrow, he nods.

“what a slut. did you come here expecting something?”

he nods again, biting down on his lips. you undo your belt, letting your hard cock slap onto his back. he glances behind to look at you with desperate eyes, your hand slips away from his hole, coming up to move his head back to the front, forcing him to look at the innocent faces of the two girls while he commits this sinful act. another moan slips out when you start to languidly stroke his cock, your thumb and index finger kneading at his pink nipple.

another snap.

this time the two girls aimed it lower, as if they were photographing soobin’s exposed cock. his gaze travels down on his body and the view was downright sinful. your long fingers grasped at his cock, playing with his length while the other tweaked at his nipple. you slip your length into his hole, fitting snugly. he jerks, pressing his ass back into your length, desperately rutting against you. he looks down again and eyes the red head of his cock, contrasting with the white panty, while just above it was two innocent friends enjoying their day out, having no idea what devious act was being committed right in front of their eyes. his breath hitches and his stomach clenches.

without warning you start to thrust in and out of him, he moans as his grip on the glass slips, relying on you to keep him upright. you pull him so his back was flush with your chest, before suddenly hoisting his legs and holding him up by his thighs, his knees leaned on the glass, forcing him to spread wide apart, hard cock flopping up and down with the motion. his crotch was right by the camera of their phone, and he shivers at the thought of the capabilities of the apple camera, if just by chance, the phone captures something out of the ordinary behind the glass. would they recognize him? his abdomen tightens.

“coming! please i’m coming!” he couldn’t help the intensity in his breathy voice and you speed up your pace, your fingers digging into his thighs, and for a moment the only thing you could hear in the store was the wet slapping of skin and the breathy cute moans of soobin. “are you going to come in front of everyone soobin?”

he groans lowly, ass squeezing hard on your cock as he comes onto the window. you come soon after, groaning as the warm substance fills his stomach and encases your dick. the two girls giggle to each other, talking about who knows what before they walked away. he gasps out, legs still trembling at his intense orgasm, mind fucked out as you pull out, dragging him away from the window. his tall figure slumped over yours as you situate him onto a chair. you take some nearby tissues, wiping yourself and him to the best of your ability.

“oh my god…” he breathes out after a bit. you help him slip off the item of lingerie, you’ll apologise to your friend later… for now you’ll buy this underwear, he did look awfully pretty in it. you just chuckle at him, a knowing smile.

“good?”

“amazing.” he looked like he meant it very much.

“great, because you better clean that window up.”

he jumps up, taking a cleaning cloth- “with! your clothes on” you interrupt him, chuckling at his sheepish smile as he quickly step into his pants and shirt.

“what should we do with that panty?”

“wanna put it back on?”

“no!- well, not now!”

“so that’s a maybe?”

he gives you a sneaky look. such a perverted guy, you thought.

“maybe.”

[babsisbakery]

Running for your life

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

For @greynatomy: happy belated birthday

warning: angst, someone is following you at night time

It was night time. Darkness envelops you. The moon and stars trying to illuminate your way but failing miserably. Too many large trees, their branches letting through as little light as possible. Many broken street lights on your way. The path is barely lit. Shadows cast upon every direction. Every step ricochets in the narrow street. The paved sidewalk does not help the following noises. Hectic steps can be heard, people watching from their windows but not daring to interfere. The path is empty besides two silhouettes. A broad figure directly behind you. Their pace is not slowing down, keeping up with you. At least you’re thankful for the extra laps you have to run on a daily basis because the workout is coming in handy at the moment. Otherwise, you’re afraid, it would have been a futile attempt to escape. 

Adrenaline pumping through your veins at rapid speed. Your heart beat has never been so high. Just one small mishap and it's over. The person behind you would get what it wants and that's you. As you keep running you see a group of women, far from you. Should you or should you not flee to them. You would outnumber the person but wouldn't you put innocent ladies at risk. Put their lives on the line to save yours. To maybe endanger some strangers. You decide against it, you weren't sure if the said person had a weapon. Even a simple knife can cause severe damage. Those ladies don't seem fit enough, rather drunk, a bit shaky on their legs. As you've already decided on the other possible option it struck your mind. It would have been perfect. Run to the helpless women, letting the person pursue them and not you. You have plenty of energy to get away safely while they are preoccupied with its fresh victims. But it was too late. Your mind was set on preserving their lives and risking your own in the process. 

Like a lightning bolt it struck you. Your girlfriend Alexia is out with a couple of her friends from the club while you decided to head to Irene to see Mateo. Walking back home alone in the dark didn't seem that bad at the time. Well how wrong you only were. A stranger following you, is not how you imagined your night to end. You should have stayed over like Irene suggested but you came up with another clever idea to get yourself killed - or worse, ending your football career. It's normal for yourself to get yourself in danger or trouble. But this is on another level.

Remembering the club’s name as you try to speed up, reserving your energy says what, to outpace the bastard. As you are mapping out the streets in your head and frantically searching for signs which indicate where you were you hear a bang. You don't dare to look back too scared to stumble and possibly end up like most horror movie characters, dead. Through a traffic mirror you could hardly identify someone but with a bit of luck a local just turns on their porch lanterns which illuminate the darkness. The figure is in a good distance from you, providing a slight cushion for emergencies. For example not looking where you go and losing your balance. 

Finally you figure out which streets to pass to get to your destination, your girl. You’d need five minutes if you sprint, walking there would be much longer. It shocks you that you have run such a large distance already. Not sure how much of this pace you would be able to continue without struggle. Your breath seems a bit more ragged. Heart pumping faster. Some sweat collects on your forehead. The purse on your shoulder felt heavier than usual. 

Time flies by fast, the constant movement making you lose track of it. Not comprehending how close you actually are to the club, you look around. Nothing seems familiar, well you've only been here a few times but always focused on the conversations with your friends. Panic overcomes you, the energy left in you fading. Frantically you look around but your head isn't thinking straight. With no idea how close or far the stranger is you search for an entrance, a safe space. A place to protect you from cruelty. But that's a mistake on your part. You misstep or stumble or you run over your own feet, you don't register clearly but you’re aware of falling.

You feel your jeans ripping. Your hands cushion your fall the best they can. Ripping your palms open in the process. But there is plenty of adrenaline coursing through your veins for you not to feel any pain. Blood pours out of your head soon after it hits the ground. The only thing you register with your blurry vision is the mysterious coming closer. There is an empty attempt to scream by you. Nothing comes out of your mouth, it doesn't even move, it stays closed. 

What you don't notice is that a door, a few metres from your current location, opens as you fall. It's your girlfriend with a couple of your shared teammates. They don't know it's you. Your back facing them. Still they run to the “stranger” in need. They are always helping those who they can help. Alexia doesn't miss the dark figure running towards you. She steps in front of the person she assumes is an unknown person. Blocking the way for your chaser. “Is there a problem mis-.” tries to ask your girlfriend. Before she can end her question her attention is demanded by Patri, who turns her abruptly around. She faces you, her face losing any colour it has.

In her position now stand Mapi and Lucy. Like two bodyguards, protecting their friend. Alexia falls to her knees. Seeing you so fragile breaks her heart. Noone would want to see their significant other in such a terrible state. Ingrid is on the phone summoning an ambulance. The flowing blood is concerning, your injury could be worse than what reaches the eye. Your girlfriend is cradling your head, muttering things in Spanish, incoherent to you. Even if she was talking louder you wouldn't have heard her. Your head is safely tucked into her lap. Her pants are now covered in red. You are in a trance. Mind foggy, vision still blurry. Consciousness is slipping from the tip of your fingers. The last thing you see before your eyes shut is the stranger passing something to Mapi. Something you recognise. 

When you awake, you're in an unfamiliar environment. Alone in a white room. Machines beeping, wires attached to your arm and bandages cover your hands. Normally people would panic but you don't, staying level headed. You’ve been in plenty of those rooms to add things together. Lying in a hospital. The light is too bright for you. A concussion for sure. At this moment Alexia walks in, looking rather shallow. As if a trail of sadness is following her. But as she sees you awake, the usual spark in her eyes returns. Relieve washing over her face. She’s instantly by your side, grabbing your hand into her own. Kissing your bandages head. Until now you weren't aware of that. Slowly your free hand moves to touch your head. Lots of covered area.

The midfielder presses a button, calling a nurse. The medical staff checks on you. A fast recovery is promised. Nothing to worry about. Except your mental state. Alexia tells you what had happened while you were out of it. Explaining in detail what the stranger wanted. To give you back something that had slipped from you while you were rummaging through your purse. But it seemed that the said person was being cryptic and soon vanished after your teammates bombarded them with their own doubts of the sketchy situation. They also told Mapi and Lucy that they tried to call out to you. Maybe they really did but you don't recall such a thing. Something your mind could have pushed away, a lost memory. It raises a lot of questions in your mind.

Since this incident you've never been the same, always cautious about your surroundings but even though it ended well you can't shake the feeling off that it could have been different. If you hadn't reached your teammates you wouldn't have seen another day. Of course that's only speculation even if the said stranger apologised and expressed their motive, it didn't sit right with you. The only person you expressed your thoughts about this was Alexia. She had your back and was there for you. Nightmares were plaguing your nights, your girlfriend right beside you consoling you when you burst into tears and reassuring you. With time those went away as well, contently lying in Alexia’s safe arms, sleeping peacefully. Your trauma is healing slowly. Still you’re not sure if you dare to go out alone in the dark again. Maybe with some therapy you will but for now you take one day at a time. But you know you’ve grown closer with your person. You're thankful she stood by you. Not leaving your side even if it got difficult. It made you certain she is the one. You knew before but some issues kept you from truly believing it. It was time to take the next step in your relationship. Life is too short to waste it, you've come to realise. This event changed you, it's something you don't wish on anyone, it still had a few positive outcomes. A fresh perspective on life. A life with Alexia.

All together it made you appreciate the people around you more. Stronger bonds not only with family but with friends. They showed up for you when you were in need, not even knowing it was you. That's the people you can count on no matter what.

[1d1195]

Sun-Kissed I

Here is a fluffy/smutty little piece of love on the beach. It’s ~9k words. It’s a love at first sight kind of thing I know it’s kind of ridiculous for them to be falling in love so fast but it’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Also, sorry that I’m really into sunflowers right now. Sunflower Vol. 6 has been on my mind lately so that’s gonna make an appearance for the third time as of late. I don’t know if anyone else cares about all my little easter eggs regarding real life Harry in my writing but I’m really pretty proud of the news one I put in here. I'm sorry they're both teachers again I needed them to have summer's off to make this work. Their careers are not a major part of the story.

Warnings: There’s some pretty 18+ things happening here. Masturbating, public sex (kinda), thigh riding, etc. If you’re not into this, I wouldn’t read it. It's all fluff otherwise. There won't be a bit of angst.

I've been trying to write this for over a year and finally came pouring out. Unfortunately, there will be a second part next Thursday only because I thought it was getting too long. So it does end a little abruptly. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

Harry didn’t grow up near a beach so he thought this would be great way to cash in on his vacation time over the summer. Sitting at the beach, reading a book, and dipping his toes in the water when it got too hot. His mum knew someone who knew someone who gave him a great deal on the summer rental, and he was beyond excited to sit and relax for the first time in years.

Being an earlier riser had its advantages. For one, he got the pick of where to set up his summer getaway on the beach. He brought a cooler, a chair, and a few towels along with a book or two to spend the day. Through his sunglasses, he faced the direction of the sunshine. He hadn’t had a proper summer holiday since he was young and now that he was busy teaching and had summer’s off, he was elated to have some time to himself.

Once he settled his belongings, he turned on a summer playlist he’d been working on for a while. He didn’t turn it up loud—he would never want to bother anyone that may join him on the beach—but it was loud enough to hear and not interrupt his imagination while reading.

It was utterly peaceful.

Apparently, Harry was unaware of just how truly peaceful the beach could be.

“Hey,” a voice said softly, it was sweet. A gentle shake on the arm, her skin was cool to the touch. His eyes blinked open unsurely. He realized he fell asleep and didn’t even get through the first page of his book. “Hi,” she whispered with a gentle smile. “You’re going to start burning,” she explained handing over a bottle of sunscreen to his hands while Harry tried to wake himself up. “And your book is in the sand,” she said grabbing it before the spine broke from all the grains of the beach ruining the binding.

“Oh,” he shook his head desperate for his brain to catch up to his surroundings. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“No problem!” She chirped heading back to the chair that was a few meters in front of him. “I already burned once this summer and it was miserable. Just don’t want you to suffer the same fate.”

He pushed open the bottle and started rubbing on the sunscreen. It felt like he was going to have a slight burn already. The relief of the lotion on his skin made him wary. “Ah, guess...I should probably leave,” he chuckled. “Try again tomorrow.”

“Oh...if you want to stay, I have an umbrella,” she said cheerfully. “S’a nice day, just give me a minute to set up,” she smiled and gave her name to Harry.

Harry had hardly gotten a good look at her with a sleepy set of eyes a bit wiped by the sun. His brain was foggy with the impromptu nap. This small little town he was staying in had the vibe that someone like her would help a stranger. Everyone had been so nice in the grocery store and when Harry went for his run yesterday, people said hello and commented on how nice the evening was. It was an adorable little town and Harry was already dreading having to leave in two weeks’ time.

“Well, thank you. M’Harry,” he said quietly while he finished rubbing the lotion over his body. He watched her work, his mind less foggy. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was a little over two hours since he arrived. It wasn’t too hot outside still, so his burn would be minor if he got one at all. With the addition of a blanket and the umbrella, it was almost a mirror image of Harry’s little set up. A chair, a cooler, and a couple towels.

She had a ponytail pulled through a baseball cap and she wore a button down, rolled to the elbows. The top few buttons were open revealing a deep blue bathing suit top, that scooped low enough to show off...

Harry had to be careful, or he was going to be sporting a prominent erection on a beach with a ton of families. He moved his gaze down past where he really wanted to look. The shirt came down to just above her knee and he saw a pair of flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket she had laid out in front of her stuff. “Nice day, huh?” She smiled as she twirled the umbrella stand into the sand.

“Tits—it’s really nice,” Harry said quickly stammering through his recovery.

Smooth.

She either didn’t notice his faux pas or didn’t care because she continued about her business. “Have you been here long?” She asked.

“Just arrived yesterday. Did some grocery shopping. Went for a jog.”

“Oh, how nice,” she had this infectious smile. Harry felt so happy just being around her. Or maybe it was the beautiful weather and the prettiest beach he had seen in years.

Or maybe it was her curvy figure that was making him lightheaded with happiness.

She pulled the shirt off finally, and Harry thought he might seriously need to leave. Head back for his little beach cottage to take care of blood rushing to his groin. She’s gorgeous. He thought to himself. “How ‘bout you?” He cleared his throat.

“I grew up here...and live here in the summer.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Here?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded. “It’s my favorite place on earth,” she explained.

“I can see why,” he nodded in appreciation. “Do you have any suggestions for while m’here?”

She nodded. “Plenty—how long are you here for?”

“Two weeks.”

“How lovely...let’s see...you’re at the beach—that’s most important in my opinion. I think if you stay here most of the time, you’ll have a successful vacation. There’s a place about twenty minutes from here where you can go clam digging if you like clams—I don’t really like them, but it’s fun to go. Paddleboarding on the river is also a really big thing. There’s this restaurant that everyone talks about. If you want, I know someone who works there, I could get you in. You’ll need a sweatshirt from the most touristy of tourist shops, but don’t go on a rainy day—everyone will be there. You’ll have to see the sunrise and the sunset. I think there’s a full moon too, so you’ll definitely want to see that over the ocean. I personally recommend ice cream and mini golf too. If you have time, you should also check out the nearby island. Even though this place is beautiful the island is like being in another country. It’s stunningly beautiful,” throughout her speech she continued working on the umbrella stand, putting the actual umbrella into place and tilting it back to create more shade.

Harry thought it would be really forward of him to invite her on all those adventures. Especially when someone as beautiful as she was surely had a significant other. Add in the fact he met her less than ten minutes ago; he would have seemed insane. “Wow, sounds like a packed schedule.”

She laughed and Harry swore he had never heard a sound as beautiful. She was still organizing her items and she gestured under the umbrella for Harry to move his stuff. “I’m really passionate about this place I forget people want to relax.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “You’re right t’be passionate. M’sure you’re right; I’ll make every effort t’do it all,” he promised and began moving his stuff below her umbrella. “Everyone is so nice here,” he told her. “Yourself included.”

“Why thank you,” she smiled sweetly and settled into her beach chair finally, facing the sun. He swore that someone this stunning couldn’t be real. She looked like a beach goddess—sun-kissed hair and skin. “What are you reading?” She asked, turning her head toward him covering the side of her face to keep the sun out of her eyes even though she wore sunglasses too.

He couldn’t even remember why he picked the book up. “Er...I fell asleep before finishing the first page,” he admitted shyly. She giggled.

“The beach does that, I swear. Something about total relaxation and the warm sun. I’m like a cat. Once I lay on my stomach, I’m out like a light.”

“Do you read?”

She nodded. “Have to; I’m a middle school teacher.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled. “I teach secondary.”

“No way!”

So, for the whole morning, Harry forgot about his book. Forgot about his playlist that was still going—except for anytime she asked what song was playing. They talked for literally three hours straight never once a lull in the conversation. Work, books, the beach, music, and anything they thought of. He told her about his family coming to visit for the weekend and she told him about her family who didn’t love this place as much as she did who would probably not visit—even if they missed her and loved her with everything in them.

At lunch they finally quieted their conversation to eat and watch the water. “I don’t see a burn,” she told him glancing over his face and skin as she finished her sandwich. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I’d be a proper crisp by now.”

She held the sunscreen out to him again. “I know this is a little weird, would you mind getting my upper back?” She asked.

Touch her? Harry didn’t have to be asked twice. Harry made sure to spray every bit of her skin. He didn’t want to be the reason she burned. As soft and beautiful as her skin was, Harry was glad she only asked to rub her back and shoulders. If he had to do her legs or any other part of her body, he definitely would have passed out.

She spread herself out on her blanket. Book near her face. “I’m so going to fall asleep,” she yawned. “Will you wake me if I start to burn?” She asked.

Harry nodded wordlessly and brought his book up toward his face. “Sure, love,” he murmured. Hopefully not showing how smitten he was with her already.

*

Harry might have wormed his way into her heart as her favorite person ever. It was so unlike her to wake a total stranger from a nap. But he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t imagine letting him roast in the sun all morning and ruining his vacation. It was even more unlike her to invite him to sit with her.

She liked to believe she was a kind soul—most everyone told her that she was, so it wasn’t unnatural for her to invite him to hang out with her. But if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry was a teacher, it could have been a lot more dicey.

It was so easy to talk to Harry. The entire morning was so much better than she ever expected just by being in his presence or chatting with him. Other than her reading-nap—where Harry woke her up after an hour so she could reapply another layer of sunscreen—they talked literally the whole day. Harry didn’t mind putting sunscreen on her and she returned the favor when they switched positions so Harry could get some on his back.

Touching him might be her new favorite pastime.

She left a bit before Harry wanting to go for a walk and shower before eating dinner and reading a bit on her porch. Plus, she had to pace herself if she was going to last at the beach all summer. After her shower, she put on an oversized shirt like she wore to the beach and a pair of shorts. It looked like she wasn’t wearing pants but didn’t mind. The sun finally crested the top of her cottage, so she was no longer baking in the sun and made the porch the loveliest little place to read and enjoy the evening. She had a bowl of watermelon chunks beside her, and sunglasses perched on her nose.

Growing up she never loved summer all that much. Of course, she loved the beach and the time off from school, but she started working part time when she was fourteen and summer never had the same feeling as it did when she was young until she started teaching. Now she would tutor virtually some nights throughout the summer—especially for college students taking summer courses. But mostly she spent her time here in the little beach cottage her grandma had specifically named to her in her will after she saw how much she cared for it—especially since she was the only one in her family who had summers off and still cared about this little town. Once her grandma passed away, no one really felt the need to stay—her parents sold the home she grew up in. It wasn’t brokenly tragic that her grandma died—she was old, and these things happened. Besides, she felt by being in the little town she grew up in and living in the cottage left to her was enough to live her summers in honor of her grandmother.

Her mother technically owned the other cottage her grandmother had and while her mom really wanted to sell it, she insisted she would take care of it while she was here and tend to any renters.

Which is why her mother texted her at least once a week about the renter at the cottage just three houses down the road. Our renter said there’s only one towel. Any ideas?

She gasped wondering how it slipped her mind to take the towels out of the dryer and fold them neatly into the bathroom linen closet. On it. She responded and practically ran down the road. She knocked on the door to her second home away from home and waited for the person on the other side to answer. While waiting she noticed the little sign below the main window was crooked—fell off the hook again in the ocean wind. She needed to remember to bring a pair of pliers back to close the loop the next time she came over.

The two cottages were almost identical. Except this door was a sea blue and hers was a sea green. They were little wooden cottages, shingled top to bottom. Just two windows at the front of the house, two on the back, and one on each side. There were two skylights in the roof allowing for lots of natural light. Each home had two small bedrooms, a bathroom, a spacious sitting area and full kitchen. They were wall to wall hardwood floors even though her Grandma in the 70s tried very hard to convince everyone it needed carpeting. But try vacuuming sand out of a beach cottage all the time. Due to space behind the home, hers had a little patio but this one was fitted with a little patio and an outdoor shower.

The blue door opened while she was still putting the wood block that read Sea View back in it’s place. “Uh...hello?” He asked. She turned to find Harry, surprise all across his face, to see the girl he met earlier outside his rental.

Of course it was Harry. “Oh, how funny!” She chirped excited to see the gorgeous man from the beach once more—her plan right now was to not-so-casually run into him at the beach again the next day. “I should have asked where you were renting!”

He smirked. “Hi love,” he said sweetly, confused that she was here. “Uh...what are you doing here?”

“My family owns this cottage,” she explained. “Mom texted me that you don’t have towels? That’s my fault. Left them in the dryer when I was cleaning on turnover day. I’ll fold them now,” she said and marched herself inside and maneuvered through the familiar room with ease.

“Oh,” Harry said. “S’okay, love. I didn’t mean t’bother you—I would have found them eventually—”

“Absolutely not, it’s your vacation! You deserve clean towels and not have to worry about looking for things,” she was already piling the fluffy array of sea blue and green towels out of the dryer and began folding them expertly. “I’m going to leave you my number so if you need anything you can just ask me. I always tell her to just give them my number, but she worries about weirdos taking advantage of me,” she rolled her eyes.

What would possess me to say that to Harry?

He smiled as he watched her flurry of activity. Her rambling little monologue. She was definitely scaring him. It occurred to her at that moment she didn’t even wait to be invited into his space. Just strode right in. “Glad m’not a weirdo. I agree with y’mum. Think I would like her,” he nodded firmly.

She felt her face warm, and she hoped the tan hid the blush as much as possible. Harry’s nose and cheeks looked a bit red—like he caught a bit of a cold. The rest of his body was covered by a simple pair of jogging shorts and a simple t-shirt so she couldn’t see if he burned and also didn’t want to be caught staring at him—especially thinking about the abs he had on display under the litany of tattoos she saw earlier at the beach. “Well, I will fold these and get out of your hair,” she said focusing on the towels. But her brain glitched out once more. “Oh, do you like surfing?” She asked.

He chuckled leaning against the frame of the door leading to this utility room. “Only been once with a group of m’friends. S’not m’cup of tea. M’not very good.”

“Oh, okay. I just want to make sure I recommend everything you might like.”

He was smirking at her like she was a bit crazy—and she was—but Harry wasn’t helping. Without sunglasses she saw he had green eyes. Green. She was done before this even started. Once all the towels were folded, she made herself at home once more, hurrying to the bathroom to put all the towels in place. The bathroom smelled like men’s cologne: sandalwood and sage. Jesus Christ it’s like he was built in a lab for me.

Harry followed her as she put the towels away in an alternating pattern. “Thank you,” he said. “Y’really didn’t need t’do all that.”

“You’re the guest. You paid to get this kind of service,” she reminded him. “I’m also...only three houses down if you need something as well. It’s got a sign like yours below the window Sun-Kissed Cabana. My grandma named them.”

He nodded and stared at her for a few moments. She had only known Harry for all of five hours, but she could swear she knew his thoughts. He probably did think she was a bit crazy. “Do...do y’have plans for dinner?”

She felt her heart flutter. She was going to order her favorite pesto pasta dish from a local place that practically recognized her voice when she called. “Uh...no.”

“Would y’like t’go out with me in ‘bout an hour?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

*

She was finishing up her makeup when her phone vibrated with a second message from Harry. The first one was to alert her who was messaging Hiii, it’s Harry Xx. Followed by: Does this place have a fancy dress code?

No, no. Nothing fancy at all! They’ve def got a beach bar vibe.

Cool :) I’m ready when you are.

Shit. She wanted to curl her hair a bit and look extra nice but maybe that would have looked like she was trying too hard after she just got through telling him it wasn’t a fancy place. She had on a maxi dress. Black top nothing revealing and then the skirt pattern had sunflowers all over it. She would have to forgo the curls and instead pushed the front of her hair back with a headband. Just need like five more minutes.

I’m in no rush, love. Please take your time Xx.

She thought she was going to melt. Fortunately, her tanned skin hid most of the imperfections of her face. She also preferred maxi dresses because it hid the thickness of her thighs and more imperfections like bumps from shaving and bruises from whacking herself on her beach chair. She thought the style she chose also perfectly accentuated the curve of her waist. While it didn’t show off her cleavage—it was her personal belief her boobs were one of her better assets—she thought after a day at the beach with them on full display due to her bathing suit, dinner might be a little gentler without them in Harry’s face the whole time.

With a spritz of her perfume and gathering all her necessary belongings into her purse, slid on her favorite pair of sandals with gold brushed embellishments, and headed outside. There wasn’t really a discussion of how they would get there, but she decided to walk down the road back to Sea View. Harry was crouched by the sign, pliers in hand closing the very loop she said she would. “Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said hurriedly feeling like a terrible hostess.

He turned and smiled at her. “No worries, love. S’easy. Jus’ found some pliers in the utility closet.”

“Well, thank you,” she murmured gratefully. Harry stood, putting the pliers just inside the doorway before locking it with the passcode. He turned to her.

“Is this place walking distance, or should I drive us?” He asked. His hair was fluffed in these beautiful chocolate waves that of course reminded her of the beach but made her want to bury her hands in it and kiss his perfect face until she was out of breath.

“Uh,” she didn’t think she wanted to walk in a dress, but maybe that was the experience of this vacation for him. Harry looked utterly comfortable but perfect (naturally) in a pair of navy-blue khaki shorts and grey short sleeve button down. The lack of sleeves showed off those tattoos that she was continuously falling for. On his feet he wore a pair of light grey sneakers. “We can walk, but it might take me a while in a dress and sandals.”

“Oh shit, of course. What m’I saying? Y’can’t walk in a pretty dress like that,” he said hurrying to the car and opening the passenger side. “After you, love. Jus’ need t’tell me the directions,” he smiled at her.

All the books she had brought to her summer vacation had a romantic flare to them. Her only thought was there should be a book written about this very day—meeting Harry at the beach and going on a date with him. It was impractical and a bit flighty of her to be so taken with him already.

But there was no way she could help it when he got in the driver’s seat, smiled at her with those dreamy dimples and his eyes twinkled at her behind those pretty lashes of his. “Y’look gorgeous, love.”

*

It was effortless how much he enjoyed her company. The idea that it was only his first full day and he had already had a good beach day and another good jog under his belt. The post-beach-and-jog shower was cold-watered but steamy as he thought of the pretty girl in her pretty bathing suit. He imagined her smile, the gentle curve of her lips as he wrapped his hand around his cock as the water cooled off his sweaty and warm skin for several minutes until he was finally relieved of seeing her...assets at the beach.

Seeing her immediately after he inquired about the lack of towels as soon as he had shorts on was like a dream. Her agreeing to dinner with a beautiful girl was not what he expected when he booked this trip six months ago. Only one day in and this was the best vacation he had ever been on.

They arrived at the restaurant and after searching through the menu in silence, they placed drinks and an appetizer to share.

Did he mention how effortless this all was? The conversation was once more not a moment of dullness. She was funny, beautiful, kind, and it seemed that everyone at the restaurant knew her at least a little bit. “Our sun-kissed angel is here!” A man shouted from across the patio where they were seated. Everyone turned to follow the gaze of the man and Harry smirked instead of being jealous because he was right. She was an angel. A tanned, lovely, gorgeous angel.

She rolled her eyes. “Harry, this is my friend Louis. I used to work here in the summer.”

“Before she went off an got a real job, like a traitor.”

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

*

“Okay, well...we can’t not get ice cream,” she said knowingly.

“You just told the waiter you were too full for dessert,” he chuckled at her.

“You don’t get dessert at a restaurant when there are literally seven different ice cream shops within spitting distance,” she rolled her eyes. “Summer is for ice cream. If we hurry, we can see a sunset too.”

“Y’sure know how t’get the most out of a summer day.”

She frowned. “Oh...I’m sorry. I forget that you only have two weeks. We don’t have to. We can head back,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all, love. S’a great idea,” he reached out across the console and rested his hand on her thigh near her knee. With the long dress covering her legs, it wasn’t terribly inappropriate, but it was so instinctive to reach out and touch her he felt he made a mistake when she was suddenly speechless. Unable to tell Harry where to go to get her precious ice cream. “Er...sorry,” he said pulling his hand back to rest on the gearshift between them. “Should have asked,” he felt his face warm in embarrassment.

“N-no, it’s okay,” she nodded quickly. Her voice was breathy as she stammered. “I was...” She shook her head. “You can touch me—I mean,” she put a hand over her face in embarrassment at the encouragement she just gave him. Harry decided to quickly put her out of her misery—he did say tits after looking at her for thirty seconds this morning, even if she didn’t hear it. He gave her leg a gentle squeeze as he moved his hand back to where it was. She was silent again once more and she rested one hand over his. Letting a few of her fingers fill the space between his but not twining them fully together. “Is this okay?” She asked softly.

Harry melted over her sweetness. “Perfect.”

*

They ate their ice cream on the beach sitting on the tall, white lifeguard stand since it was late. There was a smattering of running kids, a few dogs, and families littered closer to the water on the tidal flats. But no one was over where they were. Up on the soft sand encroaching on the dunes. They chatted in between licks and bites of ice cream and Harry was certain he was falling deeper and deeper in love with her by the millisecond. It was ridiculous. Love at first sight couldn’t possibly be real. He had three or four serious girlfriends (four if you counted his junior high love affair, three if you didn’t) all of whom he did fall in love with but over the course of weeks and months. Not minutes and hours. Maybe it was the salt air playing with his brain chemistry.

Certainly, it had something to do with the beautiful girl sitting so close to him he could feel her sun-kissed skin warming him from the gentle breeze floating off the water as the sun started its descent over the horizon. She took her phone from her purse and snapped a picture quickly. Hardly looked at it, barely centered it, yet it was the most beautiful sunset picture he’d ever seen.

“Are y’a photographer in y’free time?” He asked.

She snorted. “No, I do like taking pictures. But I have hundreds of these,” she said showing him the photo album of various sunset pictures she had taken over the years. Harry could see why she was so good at them. No two pictures looked alike which had to be a poem somewhere out there. Harry always considered himself a winter—growing up in cold England would do that to a person—and no two snowflakes were alike. Snowflakes had nothing on her sunsets.

“D’you want t’take a picture together?” He asked quietly.

She smirked. “Do I have chocolate on my face?” She wrinkled her nose at him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No,” he promised. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her snuggly against him. “S’this okay?” he asked almost directly into her ear. She nodded and smiled as she flipped her camera around to selfie mode. Harry had one arm around her waist, the other holding his ice cream cone. She reached her arm out to take the picture while she held her cup of ice cream in her lap with the other. Gazing at her screen, Harry couldn’t believe how effortless it felt to touch her. It was so easy to talk to her. And they looked like the perfect beach couple. “Can y’send that to me?” He murmured in her ear once more. She nodded mutely. Harry didn’t remove his arm from around her waist and he continued eating his ice cream.

Once finished with their treat, they continued chatting and watching the sunset listening to the laughter of families on the beach. The sky was so pretty Harry thought that she was right. This was the best place on earth.

*

They walked back to their cottages hand in hand, Harry stopping outside the door for the place labeled Sun-Kissed Cabana. “S’that why Louis calls you a sun-kissed angel?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s something else.”

Harry chuckled. Leaned forward and swept his lips on the apple of her cheek. “I had the perfect first day with you, love,” he said softly. “Sleep well,” he hummed and turned to walk three houses down. She pressed a hand on her cheek like a lovesick idiot. She nearly forgot the code to get into her own house and felt like floating all the way to her room where she giggled and kicked across her bed as she smiled into her pillow.

*

The next three days were spent almost the same as the first. The beach: complete with reading, naps, and lots of talking to the pretty girl he liked so much already. Followed by a run, a shower, and then dinner. Harry tried really hard not to touch her without asking. The only allowance he gave himself to touch her without asking was when he truly felt like her back was getting a little singed. On the second day she made the grilled chicken salad she told Harry she was going to make before he invited her to dinner, but once he informed her he was a pescetarian she hurried to the store to get him some fish to grill instead. It was totally unnecessary, and Harry felt guilty she spent money on him like that for dinner (even though he was insistent he pay for dinner and ice cream the first night). Regardless, it was a delicious salad paired with zucchini noodles that truly tasted just like pasta. Harry made her write the recipe down for him.

“I can’t run at all,” she wrinkled her nose when Harry offered to join her on her evening walk the following day.

“I’d rather walk with y’then, love,” he said softly with a smile. “If y’want company, that is.”

She wanted to say she wanted Harry’s company. But thought that was a bit too much. But they walked side by side, Harry gently ushering her to the inside of the road without making any fuss about it. They continued their comfortable chattering. Talking of anything and everything. That night they ordered pizza that was delivered to Sea View and watched a movie in his living room, her feet in his lap where he rubbed the soles of her aching feet without prompting or full acknowledgement.

By the end of the third day, she thought Harry might be her best friend. He made crispy cauliflower tacos. He spent the evening simply reading on her back porch with her in comfortable, perfect silence.

*

The fourth day, they were sitting on her back porch again, sipping bubbly wine spritzers that she put in glasses of ice and combined with a popsicle to match the flavors. Harry thought it was sinful the way she licked the pop. Harry wanted to jump her bones so very badly.

“How do you like the outdoor shower?” She asked looking up at the sky full of stars. There was a citronella candle between them to keep the bugs away and she had a solar set of lights strung about her little patio. She was in a soft warm glow from the lights. Once more, looking sun kissed. She was wearing a shorter dress than the other day, shorts beneath it. She informed him about the shorts because she said it was an athletic-type dress and she may have sat weird and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Harry thought there wasn’t anything she could do to make him uncomfortable.

“I haven’t used it, actually. M’not sure I—”

She made an almost inhuman noise, a cross between a growl and gasp. It was quite adorable even if she seemed miffed and Harry wished he could have recorded the sound because he thought he would listen to it on loop for the rest of forever. “Harry!” She almost shouted. “The sole reason I took Sun-Kissed Cabana over Sea View was because I knew the outdoor shower would be a huge selling point for renters. You haven’t used it?” She looked nearly betrayed.

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “M’sorry, love. I didn’t realize—”

“Harry, I’m not kidding. You have to go use it. Like right now.”

He laughed loudly. If there could possibly be a downside of this little beach-cottage neighborhood, it would be that the houses were quite close, and Harry’s loud laughter could probably be heard back at his own place. But she was staring at him seriously. He thought she really expected him to get up and leave at this moment so he could get this experience.

“Y’serious?” He asked smirking at her.

“I don’t joke about the outdoor shower,” she promised him.

Finishing his popsicle and taking the last sips of his drink he stood from her little patio table and shook his head with a chuckle at her. “I guess m’going.”

He wanted to invite her. Especially if she didn’t have one here at Cabana. It sounded like she would like it more. “You better,” she continued licking the pop and Harry was grateful he would at least have a new image to think about in the outdoor shower when he imagined his hand around his dick was her mouth instead.

*

The air was cool but somehow warm. Sort of like the water on his skin. He could see the draw and actually surprised himself that he hadn’t used the shower yet. He imagined in the morning it would be heaven—most of his showers had been in the afternoon or evening since he was running at that time. But maybe he could take two showers a day—who cared? He was on vacation.

Was it heavenly? Her message read.

Harry thought about how much how active his imagination got picturing her in that shower with him, his hand fisting over himself until he imagined her pretty cleavage covered in him instead of flowing with the water down the drain. Extremely. But of course, he left out why it was so heavenly. You should write a book of recommendations for your guests.

:) You can come back over if you want. I know I kind of kicked you out, but like I said. I’m very serious about outdoor showers.

Chuckling to himself, he hurried to get dressed again and meet her back there.

*

She knew Harry’s family was coming today so she told him that she would give him all kinds of space but if he needed anything, he was not to hesitate to ask her. “M’mum and sister would love t’meet you, kitten,” he promised. He didn’t mean to call her kitten. But it rolled off the tongue so effortlessly and she was the one who said she felt like a cat in the sun. But he didn’t spend long thinking about it and continued his little speech. “Y’don’t have t’evade us.”

“I’m sure you want family time,” she promised. “Really, it’s fine. Plus, we’ll have a whole other week to do our little routine,” she felt her face warm as she spoke realizing she just told Harry she wanted to spend the remainder of his vacation together. She opened her mouth to backtrack almost instantly, but Harry beat her to the punch before she could speak again.

Given that Harry was this close to telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, another full week spent together seemed like a great idea. “I can’t wait,” he promised.

They decided to do a sunrise that morning. She brought a blanket and was wrapped up in a long sleeve shirt along with a pair of sweatpants. She advised Harry to do the same. “The air is still cool from the night when you get to the beach early,” she explained the night before they parted to go to bed.

They were laying on the blanket angled by the natural slope of the dunes so they could see the view of the sun cresting on the ocean horizon. “Do y’have as many sunrise pictures?” He asked tiredly. With the sun rising at just after five-thirty she was courteous and kind in asking that they get there at five so they could see the dawn and array of beautiful colors painting the sky before the sun got there.

She giggled. “No way. Too early to see it that many times. I do like sunrises more, though,” she said. “It’s so much quieter. It’s not as hot. I don’t know. I think sunrises are just so beautiful.”

He immediately, silently agreed with her that they were. No matter how much he was enjoying sunsets with her. He would wake up at 4:45 every day if it meant watching something she found beautiful, and it made her happy. Harry had her pulled to his side again, his arm looped beneath the back of her neck. His eyes were closed as he fiddled with a strand of her hair running his fingers through the soft tendrils. “Harry,” she whispered after a few minutes. Harry felt the edges of sleep and the dreamworld starting to meld together on his brain. “You’re gonna miss it,” her voice was so gentle. Perfect for morning. She was the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on but he couldn't bring himself to open them right now.

“Hmm,” he hummed. Refusing to open his eyes. “S’okay. We can see it another day,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “Harry,” she whispered so gently. It felt like magic. Warmth spread through his whole body. “We woke up so early,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “M’sorry,” he sighed. “It’s so peaceful,” he muttered. “You’re warm,” he turned his face to bury his nose in her hair and he nuzzled closer to her. Harry being a cuddler didn’t surprise her. He was quite touchy. But this sent her heart into a frenzy, and she forgot why they were there.

“Harry,” she whispered again feeling brave. Maybe because it was too early, and her brain wasn’t functioning.

“Jus’ lemme sleep, kitten. Please?” He muttered into her hair. “Wake me in twenty-nine minutes.”

She swallowed. “But...I want to kiss you,” she sounded so shy.

Harry’s eyes sprung open, and he pulled back from her quickly to look at her beautiful, perfect face. “M’awake,” he promised and gently cupped her cheeks, his fingers slipping through her hair, and he brought her face closer to his. Kissing her like he had been dreaming about over the last five days was the only thing on his mind.

She moaned against his mouth and Harry was really looking forward to that outdoor shower now. She pressed against him, keening as she licked into his mouth, sucking on his lower lip. Driving him absolutely mad as she nipped at his lip gently with her teeth. She could feel herself squeezing her thighs together for relief because she was finally kissing Harry the way she wished she did at sunset on his first night here.

Harry’s hands were cool against her flushed cheeks. “Kitten,” he hummed against her mouth, pecking at her like he would die without her kisses. “Y’taste so good,” he sighed dreamily.

She rolled to her side to face him squarely while he returned to his side too, instead of hovering over her. He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her against him. Over the past four days at the beach, she had tried really hard not to stare at whatever was going on in Harry’s swimsuit, so she didn’t look like a sex-maniac. But there was no way she could ignore the hard dick she felt against her thigh as she pressed against the full length of his body. She imagined Harry fucking her so hard in that outdoor shower that the neighbors would have no way of ignoring what was happening. She moaned at the idea once more against his lips, thighs pressing together.

“Oh no,” he hummed. If she wasn’t already so drunk in love with Harry after one date and four days together, she might have thought his voice sounded a bit mocking. Slowly, he rolled onto his back holding onto her and perching her body on top of him as he did. One of his legs separated her thighs apart. “Do y’need something from me, love?” He cooed almost lovingly at the idea she was aching between her legs. He kept her pulled down toward him so he could continue kissing her, effectively melting all coherent thought.

Holy shit, his voice. Oh my God.

Without meaning to, she clenched her legs once more, this time, wrapped around Harry’s thigh causing friction, despite two layers of sweatpants and her underwear (at least those were thin). “N-no,” she almost whimpered trying to get away from his leg. Harry put his hands on her hips and gently pressed her back down toward him while bending his knee a bit. His thigh came closer in contact with her so if she wanted to, she could rub right against him.

“Y’sure, love? You look like y’might need something,” his voice was so sultry. It was too early for this. His eyes were somehow a deeper green. His lips were too pink after kissing her.

“N-no,” she shook her head despite wanting nothing more than to grind her pelvis against his thigh. She knew what it looked like beneath the sweatpants. She knew the tattoos that dotted his skin. Fuck, she wanted to get herself off so bad. But she was acutely aware of her position and tried to lift herself off his leg. “I-I think m’too heavy,” she stammered again.

He groaned and pulled her tighter against his leg. “No way, angel,” he promised. “Go ahead, know y’want to. I want y’to,” his voice was a bit husky. Like he was a bit confused. She groaned softly. God she wanted to. “That’s it,” he encouraged as she ground herself against him.

She felt flush, wishing she wasn’t wearing sweatpants. They were getting in the way. The long sleeve shirt was making her warmer. Or maybe it was Harry that was making her warm. Harry helped shift her hips back and forth against his leg as she moaned and whimpered as she rutted against his thigh. “Y’look so pretty, kitten,” he cooed. “Getting off on m’thigh like that. S’making me so hard, love. Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re s’pretty.”

She continued creating friction on between the two of them worried she would give herself a burn from all the fabric rubbing together but she was so fucking wet she was certain she would slide easily against him if she could take her pants off in public. The sun was still rising, not quite up over the horizon yet, but the sky was brighter, creating a gorgeous image of her beautiful body silhouetted from the light. “S’good, so good, baby,” he groaned. She whined and continued rutting herself against him.

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Yeah, love? Y’gonna come for me? Gonna come from jus’ m’thigh?”

Jesus Christ, she felt like she was a virgin. She was almost certain she was. Had she ever even had an orgasm before Harry? When was the last time she had sex? When was the last time she masturbated? Holy shit. This was bad. He was all consuming and he was fully clothed, and it was just his thigh.

She nodded at his words. Even though she felt a bit silly and stupid for doing this, with two layers of sweatpants between them. “Yeah? Good, want y’to. Y’look so pretty all—”

“Fucking hell,” she whimpered and dropped her face to his chest as she twitched against him. Harry flexed his muscle, gripping her hips and rubbing her against him so he could help her ride out the waves of her orgasm for a few moments. After that, Harry dropped his knee once more, letting her flatten against him. He kissed her forehead as she breathed heavily against him, shaky and sighing as she let the euphoria course through her. He rubbed up and down her back as she did, and he breathed deeply into her hair. She smelled like sunscreen and coconut.

“I really like sunrises,” he murmured. She smirked. Her face against his chest. “Y’sleepy, now, kitten?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” her voice was a bit quiet. Almost unsure. “Sorry,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his shirt.

He shook his head, kissing the top of her hair once more. “Don’t be sorry. Been thinking ‘bout y’coming all over me since I met you.”

She giggled. “Yeah?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t very...flattering on his part. It also made it sound like he only liked her for the idea of sex. Which wasn’t the case. He liked her so much simply because she was the sweetest, nicest person he had had the pleasure of meeting for a really long time.

She rolled off him. He kind of hated it because even though it wasn’t freezing cold, it felt like it now that she wasn’t laying on his body. She looked at the outline of the bulge stretching against his gray sweatpants. It was still ten minutes until the sun would be touching the horizon. “Fair’s fair, yeah?” She wondered, looking up at him and then back down at the somehow growing outline. She would be lucky if he fit in her mouth.

“Angel, y’don’t have to jus’ because—”

She frowned. “Do...you not want me to?” She wondered, confused and worried that he was rejecting her. She didn’t know why if he had just used her thigh to get him off.

“No, no,” he said quickly wanting to ease the worry he saw fill her beautiful face. God he would rather die than reject her. “I mean...y’can do whatever y’want to m’body,” he nodded eagerly. “Jus’ don’t want you t’think you have to. Been thinking ‘bout—” his voice choked off as she outlined the bulge. “Oh...s’nice,” he moaned forgetting everything he was saying about what she could do to him. Her fingertip simply ran along absent-minded paths along his length. He struggled to remember the last time he had sex because he could only imagine the episode in the outdoor shower as the last time he orgasmed.

She giggled. “Nice?” She questioned; Harry was so polite. The way he walked with her on the inside of the road, the way he held her door open no matter if they were going in the house or the car, or if he simply carried her heavy cooler off the beach even though he was carrying his own belongings. For him to say it was nice the way she was touching his dick was simply...something else.

He nodded breathlessly. “Yeah,” he was already too far gone with just her goddamn finger touching him. He couldn’t have made any comment further if he wanted to. He moaned as she squeezed gently along the length of him. Five minutes till sunrise and the beach would be covered in light. She glanced around quickly, seeing they were still alone. She had never done this in the five years she had been staying the summer back in town keeping an eye on Sea View while living in Sun-Kissed Cabana.

“Do you think I could make you come in five minutes?” She whispered.

He groaned almost animalistically. “Love, I think y’could make me come in forty-five seconds,” he promised. And with that, she dipped her head toward his waist just until the sun was ready to cross over the horizon.

*

It was quite difficult not to text Harry all day long while his family visited. It was entirely due to having an orgasm at his hand (thigh); the creeping need to bond to the person who just made her entire world flip upside down was a prominent feeling throughout her body the whole day. The words of her book didn’t make any sense, so she opted for cleaning her bathroom. But that proved to be difficult too, and she spilled most of the mop water back onto the floor. After another fit of cleaning that up, she decided to spend her time at the grocery store since she was getting dangerously low on her much-needed items. She nearly forgot to go to the checkout line. After putting everything away she thought about just going to bed at three in the afternoon just to rid her mind of how crazy she was being and how awkwardly she missed her summer guy.

Fortunately, Harry broke first, before she fell asleep.

I know it’s silly, but I miss you terribly.

She felt so much relief reading his message. Oh, thank God. Me too.

You really should just come over. Mum and Gemma want to meet you. I won’t shut up about you. It’s...a bit pathetic how obsessed I sound actually. Mum’s in the outdoor shower while Gemma is taking pictures of the beach. We’re going to have dinner in a bit—you should join us. He put this shy little emoji after his message.

She was currently dressed in a pair of bike shorts and t-shirt that fell past her hips, barely a strip of the shorts showed. She had her hair pulled back by a claw clip. She wanted to go over there immediately. However, her outfit and hair did not look ready to meet Harry’s family. Plus, she was worried she would do something stupid like sit in Harry’s lap in front of his mother and sister and then she would have to jump out a window to hide her infatuation.

I would love to, but really...I’m sure they want to see you.

They want to ‘meet the girl that’s got me all flustered’ that I nearly dropped all our snack bar food in the sand today :)

She giggled. Glad he was also affected by their sunrise romp in the sand. Maybe tomorrow? She hedged instead. She really didn’t want to intrude.

Please, love. That would be wonderful.

*

She must have fallen asleep anyway. But she woke up to a knock at her door. She felt the claw clip sliding out of the back of her hair and she rubbed her eye as she made her way over. There stood Harry and two women outside the screen door. Each of them was holding a dish of (presumably) food. Immediately, she felt underdressed and stupid looking. “Uh, hey beautiful,” he smiled gently. “Sorry t’bother you. But seems the barbeque back there is out of gas,” he explained. “I sent y’a text—”

“Harry, the poor girl was sleeping,” his mother admonished. “I told you we could just go out to eat. Love, m’so sorry. I swear some days he was raised in a barn!” She shook her head. “We’ll leave you be.”

“No, no,” she shook her head quickly, the clip clattering from the ends of her hair to the floor. She felt her face warm, once more grateful for the tan skin to hide most of the blush rushing to her cheeks. She opened the door for them to enter and quickly swept the clip into her hands. “Make yourselves at home,” she said, and Harry ushered his mother toward the kitchen and out the back door toward the patio and grill. Gemma walked slower behind her family to give some reassurance to the girl who was struggling to fix her hair in the little entry way mirror.

“M’sorry about both of them in advance,” Gemma whispered. “Harry hasn’t been able to function normally all day and Mum is already in love with you. When you didn’t answer, it was the first coherent thought Mum had about not begging to see you and thus began Harry pacing waiting all of four minutes for your response before he said we could just come over like absolute lunatics.”

Oh God she liked Gemma. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I look like this,” she winced at the image of her reflection. She was all frizz and pillow lines from the couch where she fell asleep.

She snorted. “Please, we interrupted your evening. Your quiet time and relaxation. Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful,” she promised pressing a hand on her arm and headed after her brother and mother.

If she wasn't already--which she was pretty sure she was--Harry’s lovely little family was going to ensure she fell so hopelessly and terribly in love with Harry.

--

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[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。3:37 AM — ITOSHI SAE.

“see? i told you this would be fun,” you hum.

“fun for you, maybe. you get to sit and do nothing. i’m the one driving,” sae gives you a side glare—one that he’s sure you see but elect to ignore in favor of picking the next song on your phone.

if you’d told him half a year ago that he’d be here, giving up sleep to drive you to god knows where in the middle of the night, sae thinks he might have actually laughed—which is something he doesn’t do very often. he’s a bit appalled with himself, truthfully—it’s half past three, way past his usual sleep hours, and he has practice in the morning. yet somehow, he almost thinks he’s having fun.

and then he comes to the daunting realization that he’s really not sure who he even is anymore.

athletes like the itoshi sae need to follow strict regimens. athletes like him need at least eight hours of sleep a day, need balanced diets and a healthy amount of exercise, and need to be level headed and make responsible decisions. athletes like him don’t stay up this late because of one measly pout and a tug to his arm. there’s no reason that sae should be this weak to you, no reason you should hold this much power over him—and yet, in a cruel twist of fate, you do.

you do and you know it, and you’re evil enough that you use it to your full advantage.

“where are we even going?”

“sae, shut up,” you roll your eyes. “why do you always have something to say?”

scoffing, he stops the car at a red light, pressing on the brakes and turning to face you. and he hates to admit it, but the moonlight kissing your skin through the windows makes his heart beat rapidly.

“do you realize i’m sacrificing my sleep for you?” he scoffs at you, looking over at the small patch of skin of your shoulder blade as his shirt droops over your body. he tries not to stare too long—but he fails miserably, and you seem to notice it too.

“quit staring at me,” you smirk, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

he swats your hand away—though gently—and scowls, grumbling under his breath at your supposed claim. you only offer him an amused giggle as he rolls his eyes, and no matter how correct you may be, itoshi sae refuses to admit, even to himself, that he was in fact staring. in his defense, how could he not stare when you look like that in his clothing?

“was not staring at you, stupid.”

“you so were,” you laugh, and he grunts, shaking his head as he rolls his eyes at you unimpressed. it’s a battle that costs him just about all of his self control to not glance down at your lips, but he wins—although miraculously, otherwise, he’d have to hear even more of your teasing, and he doesn’t think his eyes will recover from another round of rolling this time.

“no i wasn’t. that head of yours is too big,” he says, frowning and flicking your forehead at the smug grin you give him. and sae should be asleep, he should be getting enough rest to ensure his optimal performance at practice in the morning so that he can put his teammates efforts to shame—but you said please, and you pouted, and he’s not as strong as he claims to be, although he’ll never admit it.

so now he’s here, and he’s fighting for his dignity as you wiggle your brows playfully at him. but deep down, sae doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere else right about now.

“okay, if you say so,” you snort, “you’ll survive without eight hours of sleep for one day. and by the way, the light’s green now, dumbass. pay attention.”

he hears your giggling as he curses under his breath and presses on the gas pedal, and you slide your hand over his shoulder to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. he pretends to lean back and try to shake your hand off, but you both know it’s his way of leaning further into your touch—so you grant him more of what he craves, rubbing over the back of his neck soothingly as he drives.

“okay, well you’re supposed to be giving me directions, so where do i go now?” he mutters. you shrug, and he groans.

“i don’t know, i’ve been making up directions this whole time. just wanted to drive around. anyway, did you know van gogh’s starry night was painted from his window in an asylum?”

side eyeing you, he purses his lips, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh. and even if you’ve dragged him out of bed for no reason—on a practice night no less—while he’s supposed to be getting much needed rest, he can’t help but find every annoying little quirk of yours endearing. even this one.

“what does that have to do with anything?” he asks flatly.

and sae is not an easy book to read, he never was—he’s like those difficult words you have to stop and google to understand, or those ridiculous metaphors that only literature teachers care for. but he’s well worth it, you think. he makes you want to skip the pages and jump right to the end, and he’s the kind of story you pray ends happily. and somehow, when he climbs out of bed in his wrinkled shirt and loose sweats, hair tousled and sleep laced in his eyes as he begrudgingly grabs his keys for you—you think maybe you don’t want the story to end at all just yet. or ever.

“just a fun fact, jeez,” you pout. “any soccer fun facts you wanna share?”

“athletes need plenty of sleep to perform their best,” he shoots instantly. you huff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms at his stubbornness to just admit he enjoys being here as much as you do.

“sae, one of these days you’ll drive me so crazy, i’ll need to be in an asylum myself.”

“one of these days, when i send you to an asylum, maybe i can sleep reasonable hours,” he smirks at you. the soft slap to his shoulder causes him to chuckle in amusement, and you cave and send the softest of grins at his direction.

“you’ll never last a day without me,” you quip, and to your surprise, he smiles a little. it’s gentle—much gentler than you expect from someone like him, and you’re not used to it. but it’s pretty, just like the rest of itoshi sae, and you hope fate permits a few more nights with him by your side, whether it’s in bed as he sleeps or in the car as he drives. maybe, you’ll even dare to hope for an eternity.

“i don’t know,” he hums, and one hand lays gently on your thigh as he drives mindlessly with the other on the wheel, “i think i could manage to squeeze in ten hours of sleep if you were gone,” he adds with smug grin, and even as you scowl at him, you decide right then and there that if itoshi sae isn’t your happy ending, you don’t think you want one. ever.

“you’re rude, y’know that?”

“i’d say driving aimlessly for your stupid whims is rather generous.”

“hmm, maybe,” you murmur, looking at him with a look so sweet, he feels his breath catch in his throat when he peeks at you through the corner of his eyes. and he hopes you don’t notice it, or the way his expression softens too. “love you,” you add quietly, lifting his hand to kiss the back.

“yeah,” he mumbles. “love you too.” you lace your fingers with his, setting his hand back down onto your lap. he squeezes gently, and you squeeze back. “i love it more when you sleep, though.”

i think sae rly likes driving tbh. finds it relaxing and if u play with the hair at the nape of his neck he loves it more. he’s pathetically a loser