#Connected in the way my friends who went to that school are still going through it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andvys · 3 months ago

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You said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: slight angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood best friends to lovers, allusions to cheating (but not really), mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited love, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ Summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right?

⭐︎ Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 10k

⭐︎ Author's note: To my Steve girlies who have read (and still mourn) I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss -- in the middle of writing this little oneshot, I noticed that Steve and reader reminded me of someone, and then I realized that it's basically Steve and Cheer in a different universe (if Steve hadn't fucked up as badly as he did). This is... what they should have been.

Also shoutout to @hellfire--cult for inspiring me to finish this oneshot (finally) and @ghost-proofbaby thank you for picking a title for me, and for your sweet words about this little piece, you're both the bestest

⭐︎ my library

divider by @saradika (I screamed when I saw the folklore dividers)

♡

The smell of weed and smoke lingers in the air, music blares through the house and bounces off the walls, laughter and giggles come from every corner, conversations he couldn’t care less about yet listens in on because what else is there to do at a party?

Steve once found himself at home in such gatherings, now he feels nothing but bored as he watches the people instead of interacting with them like he once used to do.

He used to be on the dancefloor, at the keg stand, pressing some girl against the wall and kissing her neck before taking her upstairs into one of the empty bedrooms – but those days are long over and they are not to be missed, not in the slightest.

Now he is sitting out in the backyard of some stranger’s house, sipping on a lukewarm soda and waiting for Robin to get sick of this party so he can take her home before going to his empty house and crashing out on his new bed. Seeing as she’s jumping around on the dancefloor with Vickie, it doesn’t seem like she'll want to leave anytime soon.

A sigh falls from his lips and he slumps his shoulders in boredom.

He could be socializing, talking to girls, flirting with them, with the ones who keep waving at him and sending him suggestive, overly sweet looks – he isn’t interested. The past few months were wasted ones, disastrous dates, one or two meaningless hookups, girls who weren’t interested in him but only in sex – that was his reality and he didn’t want that anymore, he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants something real, he wants to feel something, he wants someone to want him for more than just that one thing, he wants a connection, a bond, he wants… you.

Steve’s lips part, his eyes lighten up, glowing just like the stars in the night sky, he sits up straighter and cranes his neck to see you better, his heart skipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time, he forgot what it feels like… but of course you are the one to remind him of the way his heart can skip and flutter when he feels something, you have always been the one, the only one.

Not even Nancy could make him feel half of the things you could make him feel.

But he blew his chances with you – the only chances that ever mattered.

He hears your laughter, your beautiful giggles that he missed every day since you left, even from all the way here, he can hear the voice that accompanied him throughout most of his life… until it didn’t.

You were his best friend, the only friend that mattered until he found Robin. You were with him from the moment your mothers introduced you both to each other, joined at the hip, you went through it all together, different hobbies, different friend groups, first crushes and rough school days, arguments with so called friends, first parties, first drunken nights, you went through so much and you did it all together, you experienced everything together.

Steve would sneak into your room, late at night, he would use the vines on the wall as a ladder, no matter how many times you scolded him, he still climbed up because he wanted to see you so desperately, even when he spent the whole day with you, it just wasn’t enough, you’d spent the nights whispering and talking about the newest gossips, sometimes he would paint your nails or braid your hair, sometimes you would just lie next to each other and listen to some new album and sometimes you would cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it was a regular thing, it was something constant.

But then something changed, you both got curious, you both started acting upon feelings that have been there for a long time already, feelings that were no longer innocent and childish turned into something more.

You were each other’s first kiss, it was nothing more than a peck at first… and then it was a second and a third before you kissed for real. And then, it was just another regular thing, you started cuddling and kissing every night, smiling and giggling through it all, holding hands and pulling each other closer and closer.

Those innocent kisses turned into makeout sessions and those turned into your first time.

It was his first time and yours, you shared it with each other, like you shared everything else together.

It was filled with nervous giggles, blushing cheeks and shaky touches, you were both scared to do something wrong but you assured one another and you both did your best, he took care of you and you of him. It was slow, it was soft, it was perfect. A night he will never forget.

Nothing ever came close to this moment, nothing came ever close to how you made him feel.

Steve should have asked you out after that night, he should’ve, but he didn’t, he chickened out, he got scared and he left the next morning without saying goodbye. That was his biggest mistake.

To this day, he doesn’t know how you felt about it all, you never spoke of this night again, you never mentioned it again, you both acted like nothing happened, you continued your friendship like you didn’t ruin it.

He kept coming over, everything stayed the same… but it didn’t.

You started slipping away from him and he was too busy to notice, he became captain of the basketball team, girls started noticing him, he started going on dates even though you were all he could think about, it felt wrong to hold their hands, to kiss them, to touch them, he felt as though he was betraying you but his new friend Tommy encouraged him, spoke lies into his ear about how you went on dates on the nights you canceled on him.

He was hurt, he was angry, and it only was a matter of time before he invited a girl who wasn’t you into his sheets.

He hated how he felt afterwards, but he didn’t stop, he kept going and before he could even blink, he was the most popular boy in school, he was King Steve, the guy who could have anyone but still only had eyes for one.

Though your shared nights became less frequent, you still spent time with him, even when you weren’t fond of Tommy and Carol, his big parties or the way he treated girls, you were still there and it bothered him that he couldn’t have you.

It was clear that you didn’t feel the same, despite the many signs that he had missed at that time. He was your best friend, just your best friend, just Steve. He could’ve made a move, he could've asked you out on a date, he could’ve finally confronted you about your night together and how you felt about it, how you felt about him, but he was scared and it was ironic really, because he was good with girls, very charming and cocky, smug and arrogant but not with you, no, not with you. You made him nervous, you made his chest feel weird, his stomach too, you made his heart race and flutter, you made his skin feel hot and his mind all crazy.

You got him bad.

You made him fall in love.

But he was a coward when it came to his feelings for you, he really was, he didn’t even want to admit them to himself, so he watched you slip through his fingers instead of taking action and making you his. His feelings got stronger despite the distance that slowly grew between you.

You were still there, physically, but your mind was somewhere else and you seemed so far away.

He left notes in your locker, just like he did when he was a kid.

And you did the same to him.

You waved at each other from afar and shared smiles, you still drove around town and sang along to your favorite songs after an occasional trip to that one diner out of town, you sometimes slept over and left your sweet scent on his pillows, driving him crazy with it. You were still each other’s best friends.

But then Nancy stepped into his life and that was it, at that point, it was already crumbling, your friendship was hanging by a thread and it earned its final blow when you moved away for college.

Occasional calls and letters were all that existed between you at that point, it drove him crazy, it made him sad. He suffered heartbreak when you were gone and you weren’t there to mend it, you weren’t there to hold him, to wipe his tears and tell him that he would be alright – how could you? You were the reason for that heartbreak and Nancy was the one who gave him the final push to open his eyes to the feelings he kept pushing away and feeling so scared of.

When he realized what a mistake he had made, it was far too late to fix it and he never stopped regretting the actions he took and didn’t take.

But now you are here, you are back.

He hasn’t heard your voice in so long, he hasn’t seen your beauty in forever, he missed your presence so dearly.

One year, one whole year without you.

Are you here to stay for the summer or are you back for good? He hopes it’s the latter, this town felt anything but home without you here.

Steve stares at you, he stares and stares without shame. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his cheeks already blushing as he takes you in.

You are so gorgeous.

A confident smile is lingering on your lips, your makeup is a little bolder than it used to be, back then, but it suits you, your skirt is short, your top is tight, your cleavage is showing and your skin is glowing, your hair is much longer than he remembers it to be, a few highlights added to your pretty hair color and styled into waves.

You have always been a sight for sore eyes, he was aware of your beauty from a young age, he called you his princess, his sweet, cute and beautiful princess. But you are more than just beautiful now, you are stunning, bewitching, you are heavenly.

His heart jumps at the sound of your giggle, his skin heating up so rapidly that it catches him off guard.

Steve watches you, he watches for what feels like forever, you’re here with friends, girls you used to hang out with back in high school.

The smile never leaves his lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his heart fluttering more and more each passing second, eyes continuing to light up at every sound of your giggle.

When you step away from your friends and walk back into the house, he wastes no time to follow, grabbing the chance that he once missed, he goes after you and leaves his drink abandoned on the floor.

He brushes past a group of guys playing beer pong, dodging the dancing people on the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on your body as he follows. Your skirt is swaying, your waves are bouncing, your hips are shaking slightly, your sweet scent lingers in the air and he can’t help but inhale it deeply, it’s still the same scent that he missed on his pillows and the hoodies you used to steal.

With your back turned to him, you stop in front of the snack table and pour yourself a cup of the overly alcoholised punch.

Steve doesn’t approach you right away, standing by the doorway, he decides to watch you for a second longer, feeling giddy and nervous now that he is so close to you again.

You nearly choke on the punch, the bitter taste of alcohol overpowering the fruity taste, you scrunch your brows together and swallow it down in disgust, unimpressed by this drink after all the different kind of cocktails you have tried in the past months on your night outs to bars with your girlfriends from college.

A sigh falls from your lips and you take a second, much needed sip.

It feels weird to be back home in Hawkins, the town is much quieter than the big city you called home for the past year and you feel that weird tingly shudder on the back of your neck, knowing that he is so close somewhere.

Steve.

You miss him so much, you miss him everyday, but it’s been so long, you can’t even remember the last time you have talked to him. You know that he still works at Family Video and his friend Robin moved into his house with him after his parents moved away from Hawkins, for good.

But that’s all, you don’t know if he is single or if he is dating – you fear your heart wouldn’t take the information very well, which is ironic really, you haven’t seen him in so long, all you have are your memories, some of which you kept in a shoebox under your bed, pictures, notes, letters and little presents from him. Steve was nothing but a ghost these past months and yet it didn’t stop your heart from falling deeper in love… even with just the boy in your memory, the one that will haunt you for the rest of your life.

A sigh falls from your lips as you look down at the red beverage in your cup, you close your eyes and take another sip and swallow it but this time in delight, you welcome the burning in your throat.

“You still make that cute face when you don’t like something.”

The voice you have just been thinking about sounds deeper than it did when you left.

Those shudders at the back of your neck, run down your spine and transform into heat across your whole body, your heart skips a few beats.

You turn to face him, sloshing the drink around in your cup, you nearly spill it on the white tiles beneath you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your chest tightens when you look at him for the first time again, those hazel eyes that you have missed so much staring back at you with excitement yet nervousness and you have no doubt that your own eyes match the look in his.

Your lips curl into a shy smile, your cheeks heat up so quickly and you nearly crush the plastic cup in your hand when you let your eyes roam his body. He somehow got even taller, his arms look stronger and his shoulders wider, his hair got longer too, a spitcurl hanging over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, a stubble covering his jaw and chin, your eyes move down his arm, stopping at the black hair tie around his wrist that momentarily steals your breath away and fills your chest with hope. You lick your lips and swallow as you stare at the veins in his hands.

There he stands with his stupid, still perfectly styled hair and his Levi’s that are always way too tight around his crotch, looking down at you and reminding you of how much taller he is and always was.

“Hey,” he breathes, nervously, happily.

“Steve,” you say with a smile on your lips, “hi.”

Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know what to say, your heart is beating so hard, he can feel it in his throat, he feels so nervous, you make him nervous. His charm, his flirtatious side still fades into nothing when he is around you and the world around him still disappears when he is with you, some things truly never change.

He wants to take a step closer and wrap his arms around you, he wants to hug you and never let go again but he doesn’t want to overstep so he forces himself to stay in place.

“Y-You’re back,” he smiles, trying to hide his excitement.

You nod, probably a little too quickly.

“Yeah, I’m back,” you nod again, feeling awkward and tense standing here before him after all the countless nights you spent thinking, dreaming about him.

He breathes heavily and fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, “for the summer or…?”

You shake your head, unable to look away from his beautiful eyes.

“No, I-I transferred to uh the community college here…” You scrunch your face up when you see the surprised look on his face. “I know, lame right? Moving away from Chicago and back to your hometown is uh not the.. move.”

Not the move? He repeats in his head.

This might be the best day of his life – the day he had been waiting for, for your return.

Steve’s eyes widen, he purses his lips as he starts shaking his head, raising his hand a little, he steps closer to you.

“No! No, I’m just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t think you’d ever come back… honestly,” he chuckles nervously and brings his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. “But I’m happy to see you back here again.”

Happy is an understatement, the feelings in him can’t be put into words, they do not exist.

Your eyes soften at his words, your smile transforming into a soft one, hope swirling inside of you.

Did he miss you like you missed him?

“I’m happy to see you,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at his admission and your beauty doesn’t help his case, his eyes roam your body, your pretty features, your soft skin, the chain around your neck that looks oh so familiar, his heart starts beating faster, his hands shaking from the giddiness lingering in him. “Y-You look…” Stunning, mesmerizing, gorgeous, sexy, adorable, like an angel or a goddess. “Amazing.” He breathes, blushing red.

Your eyebrows pull together as your wide eyes fill with emotion.

You see the way he looks at you, you see the redness in his cheeks, the shyness in his eyes that surprises you the most.

You take a shaky breath, cursing at the way your cheeks heat up and glow so hotly.

“Thank you,” you say without stutter, to your own surprise. “You don’t look bad yourself, Harrington,” you smirk at him, smugness taking over your blushing features when you see him looking down in nervousness.

Did you just make Steve blush?

You open your mouth again, feeling the urge to compliment him again when a whistle interrupts you and wipes the smirk off your face, instead a look of disgust takes over your features when you turn your head to see Tommy Hagan looking you up and down with a perverted smile on his face.

He pushes his way between you, earning a glare from Steve, whose face turned stone cold and angry. Tommy grabs a red solo cup and pours himself some of the punch while he continues to give you nasty looks, chuckling when looks at your cleavage, “shit, now I get why Harrington always kept his favorite toy to himself,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink before he steps back to wink at Steve, wiping his chin and looking back to you, “you really grew up.”

Your lips curl downwards, your brows pull together in a frown.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Steve frowns at him, giving him a disapproving look.

Tommy always made you feel uncomfortable with his comments and his weird looks, but it was something else back then. This is new, this is disgusting.

“If I knew back then that you were hiding these behind your sweaters, I would’ve definitely hit it,” he chuckles darkly as he stares at your boobs.

Bile rises in your throat and your grip tightens on your cup, the urge to throw your punch into his face growing strong.

Steve rolls his eyes, a frustrated sigh falls from his lips and he steps towards his former friend, he places his hand on his chest and pushes him back as he takes a protective stance in front of you, protecting you from Tommy’s prying eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough, asshole,” Steve mumbles angrily. “Leave her alone or I swear to–”

“You swear to what, man? You and I both know you can’t do shit,” Tommy laughs at Steve, his eyes crinkle in amusement, irritating Steve further.

Steve might’ve lost most of his fights, but he wouldn’t lose one if it came to you.

He clenches his jaw and glares down at him, feeling rage burn within him.

“Seriously dude, get lost, alright?” He demands, his voice sounding deeper, more serious than before.

You look over Steve’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected by him, the way you always did, just even more now. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your heart swelling in your chest.

To your surprise, Tommy steps away without another word, continuing to chuckle at Steve and the glare on his face. He gives you another look.

“Call me if you–”

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says through gritted teeth, feeling hot rage flushing through him.

Tommy takes another sip as he walks backwards, winking at you before he finally turns around and leaves the kitchen, allowing you to finally breathe.

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and huffs, turning back to you, his features instantly soften.

“I’m sorry about him.”

You shake your head, your smile reappearing again, “it’s not your fault,” you shrug, “some people just never change.”

“Yeah…” He mumbles, wondering if you changed at all, “did you?”

Did you change? You ask yourself. Maybe, surely college has shaped you in some way, being away from home, being independent and all alone, meeting new people and being pushed into situations you would have never allowed as a teenager, did change something in you.

You got more confident, a little bolder too, you tried new things and did them without shame, something that was once impossible when you were still here and an insecure teen.

You tilt your head to the side and give him a sly smirk, “why don’t you find out?”

The anger Tommy left him with fades away, the flirtatious tone in your voice catching him by surprise and you take it even further when you take a step closer to him after placing your drink on the counter, you look up at him with your big eyes that still drive him crazy.

He doesn’t remember you to be this flirty… this bold but he can’t complain, it makes the fluttering in his stomach feel so much more intense.

Steve’s lips curl back into a smile, he blinks at you, looking into your eyes intensely, with want and need – nothing changed, if anything, the magnetic force between you has intensified, even when there was mostly only radio silence between you both in these past months.

Steve licks his lips, a sliver of his confidence slipping back in when he sees the way you look at him, eyes roaming his face and his body. Though his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still racing, no matter how much confidence he can find within himself, you are still you, you are still the girl that holds his heart in the palm of her hand, the one who has him captivated in every way possible, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger, from a very young age. You aren’t just a girl to woo and impress for a single date, you aren’t someone he would forget if a conversation or a date went wrong, you are the one he always wanted to grow old with, to experience everything with, to spend a life with the one who is his everything – one wrong move and he loses it all… again.

He doesn’t bother to ask if you are with someone, if you are dating and taken, the thought is disturbing to his heart.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks as he slowly reaches for your hand and you allow him to take it when you slip your palm against his and give his hand a squeeze.

He nearly crumbles to his knees when he feels your soft touch again, it’s been too long. Your hand always fit into his so perfectly, like it was made to be held by him.

You nod, whispering a sweet ‘yes, please’. That’s all he needs to hear before he pulls you closer to his body, pushing you in front of him slightly, keeping a protective stance right behind you as he never lets go of your hand, basking in the feeling of having you so close again, of being able to smell your perfume again and the sweet scent of your body wash.

He rubs circles on the top of your hand, pressing his other hand on the small of your back as he pushes through the crowds of people. He leads you to Robin first, needing to make sure that she will get home safe without him. He finds her playing beer pong with Vickie and a few of their former bandmates from high school. He taps on her shoulder and when she turns around, Steve grows more nervous than before, because her eyes grow wide when she sees you next to him, excitement flashing in them and a big grin appearing on her face after a long moment of staring at you.

She knows all about you.

She knows all about his feelings and his regrets.

She knows how much he missed you.

She was there when he cried and never stopped talking about you.

So after greeting you, probably a little too enthusiastically, she moves closer to Steve, raising her eyebrows at him and giving him a teasing, yet pointed look.

“Go and don’t worry about me, Vickie can drive, she’s not drinking tonight.”

“You sure?”

She nods, her waves bouncing as she moves her head a little too quickly.

“Steve I’m fine, go and get your girl,” she winks at him, squeezing his shoulder before she moves back, giving him another look that says nothing but ‘i mean it, don’t fuck it up this time, this is your chance.’

Steve nods at her, smiling and feeling reassured by her. He holds your hand tighter and pulls you away before you can properly say goodbye to his friend that you only know from your days in high school. You look back at her to find her staring at the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, she raises her eyebrows at you, eyes glowing as she gives you a smirk and a small wave of her hand.

You feel a little confused by the teasing look on her face but smile and wave back at her nonetheless before Steve whisks you away and out of the room.

It isn’t weird to hold each other’s hand, to be back together in his car like nothing ever happened, like you never stopped doing this, like things are still normal between you. He makes small talk, it’s not awkward or weird, it’s… nice, anything is as long as you’re with him, even the silly jokes makes or how he tries to quote Shakespeare but fails miserably, he makes you laugh and you… you make him smile.

You stop by the gas station to grab a six pack and some snacks to share before you drive to the lookout, to the place you always went to when you wanted to be alone together.

You get comfortable on the hood of his car, as comfortable as you can get on the rough surface. It’s a little chillier out here in the woods, the wind that blows through the trees makes goosebumps arise on your skin. Steve, of course, has to use the opportunity to throw his jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to warm you up as he moves close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin.

You feel something stir within you, something only ever he could make you feel.

You grab the denim and pull it tighter around you, glancing at him through your lashes, you feel your cheeks heat up when you find him staring at you already, a soft smile playing on his lips that you can see, even in this darkness.

“Thanks Stevie.” A grin tugs at your lips when his smile moves into a flustered one.

Steve licks his lips, he removes his hands from your body and busies himself with opening the beer bottles for you and him, “you’re welcome, honey,” he whispers, winking at you.

You look away from him with blushing cheeks, hiding the smile on your face as you tilt your head down but nothing goes unnoticed by him, he sees the flustered expression in your features, the cute smile you’re trying to hold back.

He scoots closer to you until his shoulder is pressed against yours, he offers you the opened bottle. You glance at his hand, taking in the size of it, how big it is, how his veins pop, how long his fingers are – it makes you squirm and clench your thighs together and he notices it, he looks down and he almost regrets it, almost. Your skirt has ridden up, it nearly covers nothing, at this point. Your skin looks so smooth, thighs so soft, he wants to touch them, kiss them, feel them wrapped around his head.

His skin heats up, his lower stomach tingles, he craves you, in every way possible, he just wants to… feel you, he wants to feel you close, he wants your skin on his, he needs to know that you are truly back.

Your touch sends shivers down his spine, it makes his stomach flip.

He blinks, looking down at the bottle he is still holding, watching the way your hand curls around it, fingers grazing his own. Your hand is so much smaller than his, the urge to compare the size of his own to yours growing strong.

“Steve?”

Your soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he blushes, cheeks burning maroon. He shakes his head a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he furrows his eyebrows, he removes his hand from your bottle, already missing the touch of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I got a little uh… distracted.”

He instantly regrets it when his eyes fall back on your lap again, your giggle makes him blush even deeper, he eyes you from the side, watching the way you press your lips against the bottle, you take a sip, trying to hide the smirk on your lips.

He feels a sudden sense of nervousness rushing through him – here he is, in the presence of the girl of his dreams, the girl that slipped through his fingers, the girl that should be his and he is messing up. He begins to stutter, trying to distract himself once again, this time from your legs, from your soft skin, from how much he wants to touch and kiss you, from how beautiful you are but you make him stutter, you make it difficult for him to talk, you make it impossible for him to be smooth, to flirt with you the way he always did with other girls and suddenly, he is reminded of why he was always so scared of revealings his feelings to you, there was too much at stake, he didn’t want to lose you.

He always felt so pathetic around you, like a stupid kid in love, one that can’t talk to his crush without blushing, without stuttering.

And this is exactly what you always adored about him.

But he doesn't know it, he doesn’t even realize it, he doesn’t even see the way your eyes always light up, the way they soften as you look at him, the way you admire him.

Before he even takes a sip of his beer, he already feels like he is drunk, his skin is hot, his mind hazy, he feels happy, at ease, like he is floating, all because of you, you make him feel so… light.

He is drunk on you, without having touched you properly, your presence is enough.

He wonders how you are holding up, what emotions linger inside of you — you look so calm, relaxed.

You fall into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the things you have missed in each other's lives, since being separated. And while your eyes stay glued on the night sky, only glancing at him every once in a while, he watches you, with a fluttering feeling in his chest and a smile on his lips.

You laugh with each other, getting lost in the memories that you both start bringing up, joking and slapping each other’s shoulders softly as you start to tease one another about the stupid things that you both have done in the past.

You have changed, not only physically did you get even more beautiful, you got something that you didn’t have before, a boldness that you always admired others for. You used to be so shy, anxious to ask the simplest questions, too nervous to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, even with him, sometimes. But now, despite you choosing to look at the sky instead of him, he can tell that you are not that shy girl anymore, who was afraid to look into his eyes. You are confident, comfortable in your own skin, not afraid to be you, not afraid to gaze into his eyes when you tilt your head to look at him.

He wonders what or… who caused it, the change in you.

Was it just the circumstances? The big city that pushed you out of your comfort zone?

New friends? Being on your own? Or… was it the experiences you have made in these past few months that have shaped you from an innocent, shy teenager into a confident, young woman?

His stomach churns at the thought of the things you have done while being away from home, or better yet, who you have done them with. He has no right to be upset about it, he knows it, yet he can’t stop the sinking feeling inside of him as he thinks of the hands that have touched your body or the lips that kissed yours, if you had dated someone, if you are someone else’s right now.

The question tumbles from his lips before he can even stop himself.

“Do you have anyone?”

The storm that was just raging in his mind, the string of questions that followed now silenced as he stares at you, waiting for your answer with a racing heart and clammy hands.

The sound of crickets and the rustling of the trees are the only sounds now filling the space around you.

“You mean… a boyfriend?”

He nods and you shake your head at that. You bring the bottle up to your lips, taking a much needed sip.

“No, I don’t,” you murmur as your eyes roam his face, “why?”

You notice the frown on his face, the way his lips are curled down and his eyebrows are tightly scrunched together.

“Just wondering… someone like you still single?”

“What do you mean…?” You ask slowly.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“I mean… Come on, honey. You’re funny, you’re smart and you’re just… you’re amazing,” he sighs adoringly, hazel eyes running up down and your face and your body. “You’re beautiful, a fucking catch.”

You almost want to scoff at his words, you want to roll your eyes and look the other way. A catch, right. A catch he never wanted. Your heart betrays you when it flutters and prompts a girlish giggle to fall from your lips.

“Stop.”

He nudges his shoulder against yours, grinning at your flustered face, “it’s the truth.”

Steve feels relieved to know that you don’t have anyone waiting on you, that there isn’t some guy out there that got the girl he always wanted.

“You have to say that,” you shake your head and drink the last drop of your beer before you throw the bottle down on the grass, making a mental note to pick it up later.

Because he is your best friend, because he was always your best friend, no matter what – so of course, he has to say these words to you.

He rolls his eyes at you, huffing, “I’m not just saying that.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the way his words can make you feel like that shy teenage girl again, you try to steer the attention away from you.

You press your palm against the cold, almost icy hood, leaning back, you tilt your head to the side and gaze at him, loving how long his hair grew, how his features are more… manly now, though the boyish grin still lingers.

“What about you?” You whisper, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue. “Got anybody, Stevie?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost frowning at your question.

“Me? No… no one really… felt right.” He says with a look of longing in his eyes, the one that is only reserved for you.

The tension in your chest disappears, almost instantly, you have an idea of what you would feel like had the answer been a different one.

“I was seeing a girl… for a while but uh… like I said, it… she didn’t feel right,” he admits with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You nod, swallowing harshly.

“Why didn’t she feel right?” You’re aware of how small, how shaky your voice sounds.

You wait, wait and wait for him to answer your question, the answer he tries to find in your eyes as it seems because he won’t stop looking at you, it’s like he is searching for something, like he is trying to figure you out, like he is trying to make sense of the question you just asked.

He doesn’t give you what you want, as always, Steve Harrington pretends like nothing happened, like nothing had been asked.

But you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, you had someone too, back in Chicago.

He was nice, he was good to you, in more ways than just one but no matter how much you tried not to think of him, you always failed. He was always there, always in the back of your mind, always ready to haunt you and remind you that he is and will always be the only one that your heart will belong to.

Your relationship was only short lived, and you left him the moment you realized how unfair it was to stay with him when your heart was somewhere else, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve.

Something rustles in the bushes, something echoes loudly through the woods, something that would have normally made you flinch, doesn’t even faze you now because he is here. You feel safe in his presence, you always did, not even the darkest night or the loudest storm could make you feel afraid as long as he was by your side.

And yet, you scoot closer to him, not even noticing that you do until his fingers brush against yours and sparks shoot through your entire body.

And through his.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, “yeah… I had someone… but he didn’t feel right either.” You say softly, vulnerably as you meet his eyes again.

A soft ‘oh’ leaves his mouth and he nods, looking down at the bottle in his hand, he brings it up to his lips and downs the rest of it. He feels his stomach churning, his insides crawling at the mere thought of you with someone who isn’t him and it makes him feel awful, it makes him feel ridiculous because wasn’t that his own fault? He blew his chances with you. He let you go, hell, he didn’t even fight for you.

He puts the bottle down, wipes his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair before he turns back to you to find you staring at him just the way you always did, with your big doe eyes, those pleading and begging looks you never stopped throwing at him.

He’d have to be blind to not see it – he always did, he just never allowed himself to admit it, not even to himself, not even when you were all he ever wanted.

“Why didn’t he feel right?”

Steve watches the way your lips curl downwards, the way you squint your eyes at him, the softness fleeing as you glare at him instead.

And suddenly, the air around you feels different, tense for another reason, heavy and filled with something neither of you ever addressed before.

While you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself – Steve tries to mend the aching in his chest, the hammering that feels just too strong.

“Why didn’t she feel right, huh?” You ask, scooting away from him and getting off the hood, placing your feet back on the ground, you don’t even bother to smooth down your skirt. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in front of him, demanding the answer you tried to ask softly before.

Steve sighs, growing fearful and anxious, feeling like he is messing up yet again, like he is about to lose again.

But you are close, so goddamn close, even through the anger in your eyes, you still stand in reach, your knees now brush against his. He straightens his back, fighting the urge to reach for your hands and just pull you into him, showing you why no one ever felt right.

He promised Robin, he promised her that if you ever came back, he would go and get you, he would come clean about it all, he would make it all right again.

“This goes both ways, Steve. You can’t just ask me and then–”

“Because no one is you.”

He won’t fail this again, no matter how scared he is, he just can’t.

Your lips part in surprise, a painful look crosses your eyes, though the anger doesn’t fade away just yet. You uncross your arms, and shake your head at him.

His words should bring you joy, shouldn’t they?

But as you stand here before him, his knees brushing your own, his golden brown eyes staring at you with nothing but love, you can’t help but feel your heart aching because why now? Why not then?

“So… it took me to leave town… go to college… for you to say this?” You whisper, holding back a choke as your eyes well up with unwanted tears.

His own eyes panic when he sees just how much pain there is inside of you, how much you hid it. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, he sighs in relief when you don’t push him away like he thought you would.

“It was always there. Before our first kiss, before our first time, and then it never stopped. But you were… you were scary. Feeling love that strong at such a young age– it wasn’t in my plans. I was scared… I was scared of loving you and losing you. It happened before.”

His parents.

He loved them unconditionally, he loved them no matter what they did and didn’t do, he loved them and he lost them – they abandoned him and then they forgot about him.

Your eyes show nothing but pain, your heart breaks, all over again, for him.

And you’re stunned, so goddamn shocked because that word fell from his lips. Love. He loved you.

You curl your hand around his, squeezing them tightly as he gets off his car, standing tall before you again.

“You… still could have–”

“Risked it?” Steve interrupts you, furrowing his brows as he looks down at you. “No… I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk losing you…” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “now I see how stupid that was because I lost you anyways.”

His eyes well up with tears, his voice almost cracks and you finally… finally get to see a glimpse into his heart, how much pain he was always hiding.

“No… I don’t think you lost me.”

“Honey, we haven’t talked in–”

“What you felt for me… Is it… Is it past tense?”

Steve should see the hope in your eyes, he should hear it in your voice too, but he is so scared, so nervous at this moment.

Everything he had always been afraid of was losing you because of his feelings and he can’t help but wonder, what if he confesses his love to you now and his saddest fear creeps in and he will lose you for good, forever?

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, shakily.

You hold his hands tighter, taking another step closer until you are chest to chest. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you look up at him, begging with your eyes, yet again. “Because I deserve to know, Steve, do you still have feelings for me?”

He takes a long pause, feeling like his heart might explode, feeling like the ground might disappear beneath him if he doesn’t finally give you the whole truth.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the ones he craved to feel on his own for years, his body aches for you just the way his heart does, desire running deep but love taking full control, driving both his heart and his mind insane over you. He feels the pounding from his chest to his throat, his eyes glossy with tears he shed so many times over you, over his regrets.

“Yes,” he whispers, already feeling his chest deflating as the pressure slowly sinks away, “like I said, they never stopped.”

Tears spill down yours and his cheeks, his shoulders slump in relief and you, you finally breathe. You sniffle and a giggle falls from your lips, one that makes him furrow his brows but smile because now he can see the happiness in your eyes, the joy from hearing this from him.

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper and throw your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard.

It takes him a moment, it takes him a very long moment.

His glassy eyes are wide, his heart is threatening to break free from his chest. He wanted this, he wanted you for so long, he feels like this is too good to be true but when he feels your tears seeping through his shirt and how you cling to his body, like you are afraid that he might disappear if you let go, he finally relaxes. His eyes close gently, tears spilling down his cheeks, he melts into your touch and curls his arms around you, cupping the back of your head, he holds you closely, tightly.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, he gives a first kiss again.

“I missed you, Stevie,” you murmur into his chest, holding onto his shirt.

He moves even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you rise to your tippy toes, wanting to feel more of him, as though he isn’t close enough already, not even when your chest to chest.

Steve breathes in your scent, the one he used to sink his face into when it still lingered on his pillows, when he longed to feel you in his arms, when he craved you so badly but felt too cowardly to make the move he just made now.

You cling to one another, like you never have before, not even when he held you during nights you needed him the most, when you were both so convinced that you were nothing more than friends… when just friendship was never something possible between you.

Steve’s eyes are shut tightly, he is so lost in the feeling of you, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved in your embrace.

How can his heart race so fast yet feel so… calm?

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in each other’s arms, you are so lost in the moment, you couldn’t care less about anything around you, about the time, about your surroundings, about the world – only you and him matter, nothing more.

He cups the side of your face when you begin to pull away to look at one another, glossy eyes gazing into each other, lips begging to be connected. His fingers brush through your hair, he tucks your front pieces behind your ears and caresses your cheeks. His hazel eyes flash with adoration. You are so beautiful. It makes his heart clench in his chest.

You slide your hands up his chest, moving up to his neck and cupping his cheeks, your stomach growing with anticipation the closer you both move to each other.

No words are spoken, there is no need for them, your eyes tell everything, just like your touch when your lips finally connect.

Your hearts stop beating, time stops ticking, the world stops moving.

Everything around you stops.

Just absolutely everything.

Your eyes flutter shut, just like his.

A kiss you both never stopped craving finally happening, not only in your minds, but in reality.

Steve sighs in contentment, a whimper following close behind, your lips move slowly, softly with each other, you savor each and every second, even when you know that this is only the beginning of it all.

Nothing and no one could ever compare to this, no one could ever come between you, you are two puzzle pieces, ones that were made for only each other, no one else to match you both. It’s only you and him. Your hearts know, you know, he knows.

The way he kisses you so gently, so sensually, makes your stomach flip in ways it never did before, not even back then when you shared first and second kisses.

And Steve, he feels like he is in a dream that he never wants to wake from again, he is too scared to open his eyes and find himself in his lonely bed, surrounded by the scent of you that he only imagines, that forever lingers like a kiss upon his skin.

But your whimper is real, your lips are real, you are real, your lips taste just like they did before, sweet and peachy, like home.

You only pull away to catch your breath, smiling when Steve chases your lips with his own, nuzzling his nose against yours as a soft giggle falls from his puffy lips, “god… I missed you, princess.” He murmurs against your lips, knowing that he will keep repeating these words, over and over again, he feels like he has been blessed by the universe.

Your best friend’s eyes shine so brightly, the love in them that you always craved to see, is so evident, it’s all out in the open now, all in reach, all there for the taking – when not even a few hours ago, you didn’t even know where he was, if he still thought of you, if he still cared for you…

Tears escape your eyes and he wastes not second to catch them, to wipe them away and kiss your wet cheek.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, feeling like his heart might break, knowing that you have suffered just the way he did, when he thought that you moved on, that you had forgotten all about him just like everyone else did when that was never even the case, when all you did was long for him, love him, even from afar.

“I love you,” he whispers in relief, feeling like the weight of the world is off his shoulders, “I love you so fucking much, you’re my–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down once again, kissing him deeply. “You.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Know.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Dreamed.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Moment.”

Steve's heart flutters the way it never did before, butterflies go wild in his stomach, his eyes crinkle and he smiles so brightly, his cheeks hurt.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington, you have no idea how much–”

His lips are on yours, pressed against them so strongly as he pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss before you can even finish your sentence. He kisses you in a way no one ever did before.

His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, his tongue parts your lips so effortlessly, your own clashing against his as the softness of your feelings disappears and transforms into something needy, hungry. This kiss is much faster, much rougher, much more passionate than the first, you get lost in it so quickly.

When he takes a step back and he sits back down on the hood of his car, he moves his hands down to your waist, pulling you in between his legs.

Your arms move around his shoulders, your hands get lost in his hair, fingers gripping it tightly as moans escape you. The kiss makes you feel so hot, your stomach burns, your skin feels like it’s on fire as his hands move up and down your back, slipping underneath his jacket that is still around your shoulders, under your shirt and then, he touches your soft skin with his cold hand, something that makes you shiver yet lean closer against him.

He moans against your lips, he is so intoxicated by you, needing more and more, like you’re his own personal drug. He could keep doing this, he could take you right here, right now. He could taste you, unravel you with his tongue, with his fingers, he could hold your hands and make love to you like he always wanted to, like he hoped he’d get to tonight – because he thought that this might be all he would get, a night with you, only that and no more, because how could you ever want anything more than this with him after all the times he messed up with you? After he let you slip through his fingers like it was nothing?

But this won’t stay a single night, this won’t be one that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

This will turn into more, so much more.

He doesn’t want to mess it up again, he wants to take it slow, he wants to give you everything you deserve, everything he craved to give you, all these years, everything he dreamed about, during the day and the night.

So as much as he wants this, you, your bare skin on his and your whimpers blessing his ears, you deserve more, you deserve to be taken on a date first.

“Hang on,” he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheeks again, his lips curl into an amused smile when he opens his eyes to see your smudged lipstick that is no doubt on his face now too, your hair a mess just like his own, “I want to… fuck… I want you so bad, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, about you. But I want to take it slow, I-I want to do it right this time, I want to take you on a date and–”

You cut him off with a kiss, once more. Pressing your lips against his plush ones, over and over again until it makes you both giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you down on his lap, grabbing your cheeks, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Slow is good,” you whisper, caressing his cheek as his fingers run up and down your spine underneath the denim jacket. “I like slow.”

“Yeah?” He smiles.

You nod, though an almost sad smile makes its way on your lips, “you know, I kinda thought you forgot about me until all of this.” You wave your hand around, wiping at your wet cheek as a soft laugh tumbles from your lips.

You weren’t the only one who stopped calling, who stopped sending letters, he did too, but not for the reasons you thought, clearly.

A deep frown appears on his face, he tightens his hold on you, raising his hand up towards your face, he cups your cheek. Despite everything he just said, despite the kiss, you still don’t understand just how deep his feelings for you are, how his heart isn’t even his own because it is completely, devotedly yours.

“I could never forget you,” he whispers with a sad smile on his face, “you’re all I ever think about, now and then, even when we were kids, even when I was… King Steve,” he rolls his eyes at the nickname he used to be so proud of. “You never once left my mind, not once.”

The smile that makes his way to your lips makes his heart skip a beat, he kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment.

“So please, let me make it right, let me fix everything… go on a date with me?” He asks with nothing but hope in giddiness in his voice.

You squint your eyes and tilt your head, giving him a teasing smile as you pretend to think but his soft eyes make your teasing an impossible task at this moment, you wipe the lipstick off his mouth and nuzzle your nose back against his.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie,” you whisper, feeling your heart burst from joy and love.

The one thing you always wanted, you always craved now finally happening, at a moment when you least expected it.

Coming back home made you so nervous, knowing that you would see him again after all this time of being apart, knowing that your feelings will only continue to grow, no matter the tie between you, filled you with a sense of… dread, because you couldn’t help but wonder – does he even want to see you?

But, to find out that he had spent every passing moment, thinking about you, about your past, wanting you back and willing you to come running back into his arms lights up everything inside you again – flames you have tried to put out, burning stronger than ever.

Steve’s eyes well up with tears of joy again, he cups the back of your neck, his lips brush against yours, he can’t even describe his feelings with words, so he doesn’t even try, but he shows you the happiness you brought back into his life, the happiness that was just gone when you were… gone. He kisses you, once, twice… He keeps kissing you, over and over again, unable to stop himself from going back in for more, consumed by love, by gratitude and happiness to know that you came back.

To know that you won’t haunt his what if’s.

He won’t chase your shadows wherever he will go.

Your scent won’t linger from just his memory alone.

He waited and waited, and he let the lamp burn and now… now you are here, you came back, you came back to him.

Here, at the lookout where you used to sit on your saddest days, you find your way back to one another again.

As you embrace the future written for you, you know that the rings on your fingers won't only be imaginary ones like the ones from your childhood.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot #stranger things angst

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eddiesxangel · 11 months ago

Note

Hey!

I’m really bad at explaining stuff so bare with me haha😂

I was thinking that reader is a virgin and has never even kissed anyone, then she starts dating Eddie and he’s her first everything…

Then someday while they’re having sex, Wayne walks in on them and then he tries to talk to them about being safe and something like that 😅

The Sweet Days in the Shire | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

omg, this is so heavily inspired by my own experience...Are you in my walls? this is literally my experience with my current bf now...How did you know?!

Word count: 7.2k oops

Cw: This is NOT a fic about corruption kink. Angst, fluff, f!reader, readers first time (oral, fingering, p in v penetration) , reader and Eddie are 22. Happy ending 🤭

*Five years ago*

"I'm going to die alone," You groaned.

Were you being dramatic? Yes. But you were seventeen and truly felt like the most undesirable girl. No one had ever shown any interest in you. Your best guy friend, Eddie, was trying to convince you otherwise.

You had known Eddie since first grade but only got to know him once you went into tenth grade.

"Come on, don't be like that" Eddie spoke.

You were hanging out in the Shire, a.k.a. Eddie's bedroom, reviewing the new DND campaign, making sure there were no significant loopholes the others could get through.

"It's true! No guy had ever liked me like that, or if they have, they're all weird, and I don't like them back... Remember Lorne? He told me he liked me out of the blue when I hadn't spoken one word to him.'"

Eddie chuckled.

"It's not funny, Eddie! What was I supposed to say? I hardly knew the guy."

"I'm sorry. You're right. It's not funny." But he was still laughing.

"Ugggggggh," you rested your head back in defeat.

"So what if non of these shitty high school guys aren't interested? You're way out of their league."

"You're just saying that as my best friend."

"I'm really not. They are all douchebags or interested in anything other than getting a girlfriend."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where do you fall in that line?"

"I'm different." He smirked.

All you could do was roll your eyes. Of course, Eddie was different. He was Eddie. Your Eddie. Eddie, who you sprung a teeny tiny crush on within the last couple of months.

"I feel like such a loser, Eds. I'm seventeen and haven't even had my first kiss." You admit, softly.

"What?" This caught Eddie by surprise.

"You heard me." You mumbled.

"Impossible."

"Well, I'm not lying." You snap.

"Don't believe you"

"Well, you don't think I would have told you if some guy came up to me and planted one on me?" You folded into yourself. Succumbing to your self-depreciation.

Why didn't he believe you? Was it really that hard to believe that you were such a loser that no one has even ever tried to kiss you?

"Okayyy. So what if I helped you with that?" he pushed you back up.

"What?"

"I mean-shit- you obviously don't have to; you probably don't want to kiss me. We are just friends. But if you want to get it over with, you can...-I can help you." He rambled.

"Okay," You answered without thinking. You've wanted to kiss Eddie for months. You wanted him to be your first.

"Yea?"

You nodded your head, afraid of what might come out of your mouth next.

"Uh-okay"

You both shift, so you're facing one another. You don't move, unsure of how to approach this. Eddie was much more experienced than you. He probably already lost his virginity at this point. But the two of you never spoke about that.

So here you were, sitting on his bedroom floor, with your eyes closed, like a statue, until Eddie leaned in. You felt his warm, plush lips against yours. Butterflies soared in your stomach. It was just like everyone always described it to be. You felt the connection, that spark. The kiss felt like it lasted hours when, in reality, it was nothing more than a peck. But as far as first kisses go, you were convinced it was the best.

"Wow," you let slip when he pulled away.

Eddie chuckled softly and leaned back on the bed like nothing had happened.

Your stomach dropped at the realization that you and Eddie were, in fact, just friends. He didn't feel the connection you had.

"Thanks," you managed to get out without your voice cracking in disappointment.

"Anytime, Pip." He smiled and then went back to the DND campaign...

To add more salt to your wound, Eddie was arm-in-arm with Veronica a week later. Eddie had never even mentioned interest in her. You spoke every day. You never once hear him display any interest in a girl... another girl when not even six days ago he was kissing you in his bedroom. And that's when you decided to distance yourself from Eddie Munson.

*Present Day*

After a very long four years of college out of state, you were back in your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. Freshly twenty-two, you finally blossomed into the young woman you were meant to be. At college, you got to find yourself and your people. Once you had found your confidence, you grew into yourself. You had got a haircut that flattered your face and styled yourself with clothes that made you feel comfortable and confident. Before, it used to be all-black jeans and band tees that hid your figure. But now you find wearing skirts, dresses, and colo!

You used to be a late bloomer, but now you have gained many life experiences. However, you still need help in the love department. Your college years had been your party girl era, for sure. However, nothing ever went past a makeout session in the bar because you weren't like that... you wanted to have sex with someone you trusted, who you loved. Not some random stranger.

So here you were, back home in the early days of summer, and you were out job hunting. You'd been out on Main Street, in and out of stores, looking to see who was hiring, handing out your resume for about half an hour.

The sun was scorching for this time of year, causing you to start sweating and feel uncomfortable without air conditioning. As you walked by the local record store, you noticed they were advertising a job opening, and it felt like fate. You breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped inside the cool store. The door chimes jingled, announcing to anyone who was around that a customer had arrived. The store appeared empty, with not a soul in sight.

"Hello?" Your voice filled the empty air. "Hello?" You repeated once again a minute later with no reply.

"I'm here to apply for the job?" You peek around the back of the counter. As you looked over, you noticed a slightly open door. A figure passed by, but they didn't seem to notice you.

You respectfully waited a few more minutes but were becoming impatient. You decided to round the back of the counter and knock on the door labelled Staff Only.

"Excuse me." You knock and push it open a little further so you can see inside the staff room.

You notice a young man facing away from you, wearing headphones covering his ears. The loud guitar and bass sound emanates from the headphones. It's no surprise that he couldn't hear you.

"Excuse me?" You say a little louder, but it doesn't seem helpful. You sigh and walk up to him, hoping he doesn't take a swing at you for sneaking up on him.

Apprehensively, you tap the man's shoulder twice before stepping back quickly before they can react.

"What the fuck?" They rip off the headphones, and your stomach drops as you recognize the voice. Your prediction is confirmed as Eddie turns around with a frightened look on his face.

"You can't be back h-" He cuts himself when the reality of who he was talking to hits him.

"Eddie?" you cock your head in curiosity.

"Oh my God, Pippin?" he smiled brightly.

It had been four years since the last time you saw him. You briefly crossed paths in the hallways of Hawkins High, but the two of you hadn't spoken more than a sentence to each other since the day he kissed you. It was nice to hear his voice again.

"Hi," You smiled.

Eddie swore he heard angels singing when you spoke. You looked different, good, but different. More confident. More like yourself.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Trying to apply for the job posting. I've been waiting ten minutes in the store calling out for someone like a moron." You giggled.

"Shit, sorry, I was just on my break." He scratched the back of his head, letting his bicep flex in his tight band tee.

You tried your best not to stare at him, but your attraction to Eddie lingered. He looked really good, having filled out more and grown out more facial hair than he had in high school. He still, however, had his pretty wavy locks. They were just a bit shorter than you were used to.

"Oh, sorry, I can come back later."

"No!" He blurted out. "I mean, it's really good to see you..."

"It's nice seeing you too; it's been a long time," you shy.

"Yeah" He sighed.

"So are you the person I need to talk to about the job or..." You try to fill the awkward silence.

"Shit, yeah, I guess so. I'm, uh, the manager." He cleared his throat.

"Wow, manager, very impressive! Moving on up in the world, Munson," You laugh.

"Watch is missy; you want the job or not?" He slung his arm around your shoulder and walked you back out to the front of the store.

You couldn't help the shiver that broke through your body when his arm made contact with you. It didn't help that he also smelled delicious.

"Well, if it means I get to work alongside you? ... Yeah, I want it," You flirt.

"Oh, I see buttering up an old confidant for a job." He smirked.

"Things with Eddie returned to normal as if nothing had ever changed. Like you never left. Like he never kissed you, then broke your naive teenage heart.

"Well, the job is yours if you want it." He smiled.

"Just like that?" You ask in shock.

"Just like that. I don't wanna go through all that paperwork and boring questions. I know you, trust you. It's full-time. $5.50 an hour. So it's yours if you think you can stand working with me daily."

"I think I can manage that."

"Great. We can start training tomorrow at 10:00am."

"Deal." You reached out to shake his hand, but Eddie only stared at it like you were crazy.

"Come on, Pippin, a handshake? Who do you think I am? Bring it in." He opened his arms up to embrace you in a hug.

Pippin. No one but Eddie called you that. It was a nickname he gave you in the tenth grade because you were smaller than him... He said Pippin was the best hobbit from his favourite book.

"You know I could have robbed the store, and you wouldn't have known a thing," you quip, trying to play off the way your breath hitched when you embraced him.

Your hormones would have to chill if you were going to work together.

"That's why security cameras were invented, sweetheart."

"Oh," You shied away. You weren't as clever as you had thought.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he guides you out the door.

"Bye, Eddie." You smile.

Over the next three weeks, you and Eddie picked up where you had left off all those years ago. Things were good, great even. The flame that had been blown out was brought back to life and hotter than ever. There was an extreme tension between the two of you.

However, you both were avoiding the elephant in the room. It was fine until it wasn't. It was eating at Eddie. He loved having you back, but needed to know why you left and ended the friendship.

You were stocking up the new supply of jazz cassettes that came in when you felt Eddie come up behind you.

"Hey, so -uh- what happened?" he leaned back on the shelving, as he crossed his arms.

"What do you mean?" you chirp. Did you do something wrong? Was the till not even?

"With us, I mean, one day we were best buds, and then the next you were just... gone. I really missed you."

Oh, so we are having this conversation. You knew it was inevitable.

"You mean you really don't know?"

"Know what?"

"God, men are dumb," you mumbled under your breath.

"Hey! I heard that"

"Good." You deadpan.

Eddie stared at you blankly.

"You kissed me, Eddie. That meant something to me. Then you were with Veronica a week later..."

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, what?" Eddie's eyes went wide with confusion.

"Eddie..." You sighed. This conversation was giving you a headache.

"Pip, I didn't? I wouldn't. I-"

"Forget it, Eddie. It was a long time ago."

"Did you like me or something?" He genuinely asked.

"Or something," You mumbled back.

"Pip, I'm sorry I didn't know... I had no idea you liked me like that. I would have never offered to kiss you if I had known. I never wanted to lead you on."

"It's okay, Eddie. We were seventeen. I eventually got over it, but I had to not be around you to do that. I'm sorry I ran away... I missed you. Like a lot."

"Pip-" Eddie began, but a customer was ready to be rung up at the counter.

The rest of the day was busy, and your shift ended before Eddie's did today. So you quickly said goodbye and waited to talk to him the next day.

Eddie needed to make things right between you. What you had once was so good, and now it seems to be even better than before. Eddie was becoming infatuated with you. He got excited to go to work when you were on schedule. He loved making you laugh; seeing that beautiful smile across your face was his favourite pastime. He could have had that all these years, but it was all ruined for some hot piece of ass Eddie got for a few weeks in their senior year.

Eddie had met Veronica in his grade twelve English class. She was way out of his league, so when she agreed to go out with him, he was only thinking with his dick.

He was thinking about her and how she would be on his knees for him when he kissed you for funsies. He was not thinking about how it would have affected you. He was a selfish teenage boy being controlled by his hormones. Because of that, Eddie was now facing the consequences of his actions all because he wanted to get his dick wet in the twelfth grade.

“Hey Pip, can I talk to you for a sec?” Eddie greeted you when he walked in for his shift mid-afternoon.

“Sure what’s up?” Things were a little rocky since yesterday and you didn’t know where you stood.

God what was this so hard? Why did you make him nervous?

“I uh. I was hoping we could hang out… you know. Outside of work. If you wanted. I wanted to make up for being an ass.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.

"Okay." you smiled.

"Awesome! We are both off on Friday… I made sure.” Eddie said with a goofy smile. God, you were so falling for him again.

You and Eddie have been spending time together outside work every chance you have had for the past six months. He invited you to see your old high school crowd the first few times, and then it slowly became more one-on-ones. Unfortunately for you, your ever-growing crush on Eddie had come back and was stronger than ever.

You hated yourself for falling for him again, but you couldn't help yourself. He was just so charming, boisterous, funny, and not to mention the most attractive man you've seen. Eddie was a natural flirt; he always was throwing compliments your way. He always knew how to make you blush.

That evening during closing, Eddie offered you to come over to The Shire. a.k.a his trailer. After a long, tiring day, both of you wanted some relaxation. He suggested staying in and having a cozy evening with pizza, beers, and perhaps a little weed to escape the cold November weather.

As the night progressed, it began to snow, and a snowstorm was predicted for later in the evening.

"Do you want your usual order, Pip?" Eddie turned his head to glance at you. You were standing near the front door, taking off your hat, scarf, and jacket. As he was watching you, he got lost in your graceful movements. Suddenly, he realized he was staring at you and almost bumped into his fridge.

"Yeah," you shiver. You almost thought about putting your coat back on, but that would be silly. "Can I borrow a sweater or a blanket?" You asked sweetly.

"Of course, sweetheart." Eddie didn't miss the way your nipples perked out of your low-cut t-shirt when you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to warm up, but it only emphasized your breasts.

"Where is Wayne tonight?" You asked.

"He has an overnight shift tonight; he probably just left not too long ago." He said as he disappeared into his bedroom to find you a clean hoodie.

"I'm sorry, I missed him; I haven't seen that guy in years." You huffed. You loved Wayne; he was like a second dad.

"Yeah, he keeps talking you up like I don't already know how amazing you are." He threw the black hoodie at your head.

"Hey!"

I just gave you my sweater and a compliment, I think you should be thanking me."

"Shut up and order the pizza before the storm, Munson." You laugh as you pull the sweater over your head.

You and Eddie settled in, splitting a six-pack of cheap beer and delicious pizza. You wanted to watch a movie after dinner, so Eddie found a few stashed away that he still had yet to return to Family Video.

"How do you feel about horror?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"You know I don't like scary movies, Eds." You whine.

"Well, hate to break it to you, sweetcheeks, but this is all we got, so it's either this... or cable that will most likely be down within the next half hour if the weather keeps up." You glanced out the window, and if you didn't leave now, you were not making it home tonight. The storm had started a lot earlier than anticipated.

"Oh shit, it's awful out. I didn't think it would be this bad so soon! I should go... shit, I've been drinking, we both have! We can't drive!" You started freaking out.

"Pip, you can always crash here. I don't mind." He offered.

"Are you sure?" You twiddled with the drawstrings of the hoodie.

"Of course! You think I would let you go out there?"

"Well... no."

"We can share my bed". He said nonchalantly.

Was he insane?! You can share a bed... with him... you'll want to do things with him. You can't take the rejection again.

"Umm."

"Well, I would sleep on the pull-out couch by Wayne sleeps there."

"It's okay... we are both adults," You swallowed. "Hey, do you have any more beer?" You needed a drink. Desperately.

"Oh, so we are having one of those nights? Edie wiggled his brows at you, and you rolled your eyes in return.

"I need liquid courage for these movies you're going to put me through," You fibbed.

"Don't worry, Pip. I'll protect you."

Two movies and many screams later, you called it. You were maxed out on the spooky stuff. Halloween was long gone, and you were supposed to be in Christmas mode.

"You can get ready for bed first. I'll follow after. Eddie offered.

You slipped into Edie's hoodie and got under the covers, realizing the sweater was long enough to be worn as a nightgown. Eddie would be none the wiser that you had forgone pants.

You called for Eddie to enter, and he got ready for bed. You tried to pretend to occupy yourself as you watched Eddie get undressed and ready for bed. He pulled his plaid pyjama pants over his boxers and forgone a shirt.

There was tension in the air, but neither of you said anything. You held your breath as Eddie turned off the bedroom light and felt the bed dip as he got in.

"Pip?" Eddie broke the silence moments later.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?'

"Sure."

"Did you ever date anyone when you went away?"

"No"

"No?"

"Well...I went on one date, and he was shorter than me..." You laughed at how ridiculous it was. You didn't even like him, but you felt bad because you agreed to give him your number when you were out dancing one night, and you'd consumed a little too much alcohol.

"How is that even possible?"

"Well, you see, Edward everyone has different heights an-"

"No, you doofus," he laughed. "how is it possible you never dated anyone? You're beautiful." He says like it’s obvious.

Eddie made you feel fluttery when he called you beautiful.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful, Pip," Eddie repeated. "You’re a total catch; how are you still single?”

“Guess I never met the right guy…”

“Oh... " It was quiet for a moment then Eddie spoke again. "I know you always said you uh- wanted to you know…. Wait for the right guy and all… so have you slept with anyone since you were gone?”

“Eddie!” you cry, covering your face with your hands. You’re so mortified by this conversation.

“I’m sorry! Can’t blame a guy for his morbid curiosity.” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I can’t believe you remembered that. I mentioned it once six years ago.”

“I remember every thing when it comes to you.”

You felt his fingers intertwine with yours.

“Eddie…” you whisper.

“Yea”

"Ask me again."

"Are you still a virgin?"

You let out a deep sigh before you answered. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. And I want you to be my first.” you blurt out at a mile a minute.

“Pippin-”

“Just don’t go off with another girl next week or else I’m going to have to quit” you chuckle uncomfortably.

“Are you sure? Because if we start this I’m never going to want to let you go… not ever again.” He rolled over to face you.

“I’m so sure, Eddie, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You rolled to face him.

You didn’t know where this bravery was coming from. Maybe it was the combination of alcohol and being in the dark, but something sparked inside of you that you couldn’t put out.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please”

You both moved in tandem as your lips collided. Years, months, weeks, days, hours, and minutes that all lead you to this moment, this perfect moment. Eddie and you always belonged together.

“I missed you so much,” Eddie spoke into your mouth as he shifted to hover over you.

“I missed you too. I missed you so much.” You grabbed for him, to touch and feel him. Your hands gripped his hair at the back of his head.

“Baby,” Eddie sat up and slinked his hands under his sweatshirt up your bare middle.

Baby. Goosebumps spread across your body from his touch. His calloused fingers lightly scratched your soft skin, and his hands travelled further up until his fingertips grazed your breasts.

“Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” The temperature in the room suddenly increased, making you feel extremely hot. The hoodie you were wearing became suffocating.

“Sit up for me, baby. Arms up.” You obliged and felt nervous that you were basically naked in front of Eddie. You pull your arms out of the sweater and cover yourself immediately.

“No, baby, please, don’t hide from me.” He gently peels your arms away from your body. “Beautiful,” He whispers with eyes full of lust.

You reached out to cup his face so you could kiss him again. You needed to distract yourself from the fact that you were naked in front of someone for the first time. Your kisses felt rushed and needy like you would die without them.

"Slow down, Pip, we have all the time in the world." Eddie coxed you back down into the plush pillows of his bed. "I'm going to take good care of you. okay?"

You nod your head yes to let him know you understand. The room was dark, but the street light peaked through the blinds. You could hear your heartbeat along with the howl of the wind from the snowstorm. You looked over to the clock. It read 12:18am. Wayne won't be home until early morning, at least 6:00am, especially in a storm like this.

Eddie leaned forward to kiss you again, travelling his lips down your body with each peck. His mouth found your neck, and he sucked on it, making your hips jerk up into him. You could feel his erection against your leg, which only excited you more.

He made his way lower once satisfied with the marking he left on your skin. He nipped and licked and peppered your sensitive chest before latching his mouth around a perked nipple. How Eddie fantasized about this very moment for months. To him, your boobs were perfect. The way your soft skin felt under his tongue, it was like they were made for him.

You let out a squeak, embarrassed by the noises you held back. You didn't know if this was normal? To want to make sounds while Eddie's mouth discovered your body.

"Don't be shy, baby. You can let it go. Get loud. I want to hear you."

"Are you sure, Eddie? Is that like... normal?"

"Oh god, yes, it's like music to my ears... Would it make you feel better if I shared with you what I like?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well." He clasped your hand, intertwining your fingers as he rested his chin on your upper stomach. "I like it when the person I'm with makes noises; it lets me know I'm doing well. I like it when the person I'm with takes compliments and praises. I like it when the person I'm with calls me certain names, but we will save that for another time. And I like it when I get to be in charge... like right now."

"What kind of names?" You bite your lower lip.

"Ah ah, naughty girl. You'll find out eventually. But not tonight." Eddie promised.

"Eventually?" your heart perked up with hope.

"You think this is going to be a one-and-done? You're sadly mistaken, Pip." He shifted his weight and started back up, loving your body. Worshiping it with a thousand kisses. Lower, lower, lower until he reached the hem of your plain black panties.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” His hand cupped your panty-covered cunt.

“No.” you shiver.

“I’m honoured to be your first” He slowly started to guide and move his hand over your clothed pussy, massaging it. Exploring what makes your body jerk and tick. You let out a gasp as his soft touch grazed over your already swollen clit.

"That's my girl." he cooed as his hand travelled up and under the hemline of your underwear.

His hand slid down your soft, manicured mound before finding your slit. He let one singular finger travel down your clit to collect the wetness that had pooled and dragged it back up to play with you some more.

"Oh my god," You yelped as the unfamiliar but wonderful feeling of Eddie's hands explored your body.

"You're so wet, sweetheart. This all for me?" He raised his hand to examine the clear, wet, slippery substance that coated his fingers. He then stuck his fingers in his mouth before his eyes rolled back into his head. He moaned at the taste of you.

You were curious if you should be turned on or grossed out by Eddie's behaviour. "You taste like heaven." He praised you, and your body ultimately decided for you. You were turned on.

"Please touch me," You barely whisper. You bravely started to take off your panties when Eddie's hands stopped you.

"That's my favourite part." His hands replaced yours, and he watched intently as he stripped you down into nothing.

You were now fully naked in front of Eddie. You were a bit nervous, but not overly concerned. You trusted Eddie because you've gotten to know each other better over the past six months.

"My god, you're beautiful," He praised once again. You don't think you will ever get tired of him saying that. Your heart soared each time without fail.

"So are you," You whispered back and swore you saw Eddie blush.

Eddie's hands found your needy pussy once more. He wiggled his way down the bed, and he played with your clit until his face was level with your cunt. You felt so exposed you wanted to close your legs right away. But you also wanted to know what it felt like to have Eddie's mouth on your most intimate area.

"Show me how you play with yourself."

This shocked you, and your body froze. How could he ask you to do such a crass thing? Eddie sure was pushing a lot of your boundaries tonight.

"Come on, sweetheart. It's okay, perfectly natural."

You didn't want to disappoint him, so with a trembling hand, you started to circle your clit like always. The feeling started as a mild ache in your lower stomach, but it began to rise as you continued. Your worries and apprehensions slowly drifted away as the feeling of pleasure wafted through your body.

"You never push your fingers inside?" Eddie was mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

You shake your head no. "Doesn't feel right." You were too afraid to finger yourself in the past, not wanting to push the limits; you knew how to please yourself from clit stimulation alone.

"I'm about to change that." Eddie replaced your hand with his mouth, and you cried out in pleasure. This new feeling of something hot and wet consuming your pussy made your eyes involuntarily roll back into your head.

"Yes, good girl, let me hear you." He latched his mouth back onto your clit. His tongue circled and flicked your swollen bud until you were on the edge. You were so close, then his finger slowly entered you, and that took on a whole new feeling. His fingers were longer and wider than your own. He stretched and reached further than you have ever experienced.

"Holy shit!" You cried as his fingers pushed deep inside you. Eddie was careful to go slowly. His middle finger pumped in and out of you before he added another. As his finger worked inside of you, you felt a wave of pleasure from a spot you hadn't ever felt before. It made you cry out embarrassingly loud.

"Ohhhh, good job babygirl." He chuckled smugly. Eddie knew that he had found your one spot that would make you see stars. So, he continuously grazed over it again and again.

You didn't know what was happening to you; your body was undulating under Eddie's touch. He struggled to keep your hips pinned down as he continued to devour your pussy. You couldn't think; you couldn't form words. Your brain had gone into a cloudy haze that focused only on your body and how Eddie was making you feel.

No wonder everyone raved about sex.

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie" You didn't even know you were talking.

“That’s it, baby, say my name.”

"Eddie!" Your body clenched, and every muscle in your contract as your orgasm ripped through you. Waves of pleasure pulsed as Eddie's mouth and fingers continued to massage your pussy.

"Mmmm, that's my girl. You did so good for me." Eddie praised, and your stomach did another flip-flop at his words.

"You think you want to keep going? Or do you want to stop? You don't need to worry about me. This is all about you, Pip. Okay?"

"I want to keep going." Your voice sounded breathy, like it wasn't coming from you.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Eddie, I want you to fuck me. Please," you squirmed.

"God, I love hearing those words from your mouth." Eddie bent down to kiss you once again.

.As he kissed you, his mouth had a tangy and slightly salty taste. He explored your mouth with his tongue, just as he had moments before with your lower lips.

"I'm going to go get a condom, okay?" He whispered again to you.

"Okay," you bit your lip with anticipation.

You watched as Eddie shuffled on his knees off the bed to his nightstand and grabbed a blue cardboard box out of his stuffed drawer. He pulled out the foil packet and pulled down his pants and boxers. Your eyes bludged at the sight of Eddie's cock. Sure, you knew what a penis looked like. However, this was your first time seeing one in real life.

"No need to be scared, Pip." Eddie gave a reassuring smile.

"Okay, Eddie," You whispered.

"You can touch me if you want?" He walked over to the bed, cock at full mast. You slowly nod your head and reach out to feel it. Obviously, it felt hard, but you were surprised by the soft skin that felt like velvet.

Eddie made a whimpering sound as your delicate fingers grazed the red tip. You jerked back your hand, afraid you'd hurt him.

"No, no, Pip," Eddie stutterd. "You're okay; it just felt really good s'all."

"Oh," you blushed. Amazed at yourself that you made him feel really good.

"Shit, okay, I'm going to put the condom on now, okay?"

"Okay," you repeated like a parrot.

"Can you lay back for me?" Eddie crawled back up on the bed and over you once more.

You popped back down, and Eddie giggled at your eagerness. He wanted to make this perfect for you, but in your mind he already had. He wanted it to be the least painful he could make it. Hopefully, your orgasm will have helped with that.

"This may hurt a little, but I'm going to go slow, and if you need me to stop or pull out, you tell me, okay?" Eddie's face had never been so serious.

You nod your head.

"No, Pip. I need your words. I need you to tell me you understand. It's important."

Oh.

"I'll let you know if I need to stop. I promise."

"Good girl."

You sucked in a breath and bit your lip at his words. Eddie took a mental note about your reaction. He would tuck it away and save it for later.

"You're already wet enough, I think. I'm going to try and put it in now okay?" Eddie kissed you tenderly and you replied.

The feeling was odd. You felt like you were being split open as your walls burned from being stretched the furthest they have ever been.

"Oh god," Your face scratched as Eddie went in deeper.

"You okay? I can stop"

"No, I can do this. Just stay there a minute." Your body needed time to adjust.

"It's okay," Eddie cooed. He peppered your cheeks with small kisses as he waited for further instructions.

"Okay, I think I'm okay." Your vagina was still tight, but it wasn't as bad as a few minutes ago.

Eddie made sure to be as gentle as possible. Even though it was killing him to not just ram into you repeatedly. Your soft, warm walls were squeezing him so good, too good.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour, Eddie finally reached the hilt. You never felt so full. The feeling was strange yet exciting.

"I'm going to move now, okay?"

He was so patient and kind; you never imagined your first time to be so guided and full of communication. You thought it would just be like boom, stick it in and start. But, no. Not with Eddie.

As Eddie started to rock his hips, the burning started to ease into pleasure. Your hips started moving and rocking with Eddie's body, and you worked together to feel pleasure. Your instincts took over as your thoughts started to numb.

"That's it, baby, fuck, you're making me feel so good." Eddie praised.

"Mmmmm," Was all you managed to get out.

Eddie took that as a sign he could go faster. Thank god he did because the moans that came from you were sinful.

"Yes, baby, be as loud as you want," Eddie commanded before latching his mouth back on the sweet spot he found earlier.

A high-pitched ""Uhhhhhnhhhh" left your mouth as you became more and more cockdrunk by the second. His thick long cock was grazing your walls, finding your g spot that he had reached earlier in the night. Making you yell out his name.

"That's it, baby girl; tell me, who owns this pussy?" Eddie gritted through his teeth, and his pulsing cock pounded into you.

"W-what?"

"Sorry, shit, sorry I got carried away." Eddie kept his rhythm as he forgot that this was your first sexual experience. He couldn't wait to teach you about all his little desires. "you're doing so good for me."

"o-okay"

Your nails lightly scratch up Eddie's back, making him shiver. You then run back down and grab onto his ass. You hugged him like a koala bear, refusing to have this feeling he was giving you to go away. You were so blissed out by it all.

"God baby, I don't think I can hold out much longer," Eddie puffed. His hips never break the rhythm he set.

"Please," you didn't know what you were begging for? You just need him.

"I got you, baby girl; you're being so good for me" Eddie felt your pussy clench down at his words of praise.

"Come on, baby; I know you can give me one more," His hand slipped between you two and found your clit once again. You were so overstimulated that with just a few mild touches, you were falling apart, beneath Eddie.

"Oh fuck, you're squeezing me so good" Eddie tried to hold off, to keep going, to keep fucking you, but he couldn't. Your pussy was so tight around his cock he emptied himself into the condom that was buried inside of you.

Your head felt like it was spinning; your body was limp and racing with those feel-good hormones.

"I'll be right back." He kissed your cheek before getting up off of you after he caught his breath, got rid of the condom and cleaned himself up before returning with a wet cloth for you. But when he returned to the bedroom, you were fast asleep.

He laid the damp cloth on the back of his desk chair and brought the covers back up over the both of you before pulling you into his chest to cuddle you until he fell asleep.

The next morning the snow had finally stopped, and the bright sunlight had peaked its way through the slits of the cheap blinds that hung in the window.

Eddie heard footsteps outside the bedroom door in his hazy, half-asleep state. He peeked in an eye to see you sprawled out comfortably in his bed. He lifted covers to see your still naked body that he didn't really get to see last night due to the pitch black. He could see the marks he had made more clearly as they had gotten darker within the night.

He couldn't help himself. Here you were naked, sleeping with him in his bed; he just had to touch you. He kissed up the side of your exposed neck, marking the other side that had been left untouched. You moaned and squirmed, then giggled when Eddie's hair tickled you.

The reality of where you were hit the second you awoke.

"Oh, Eddie," You softly moaned.

"Good morning, baby," Eddie rolled on top of you, his morning wood more hormonal than ever.

" 'Morning," you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear before Eddie nuzzled his head behind the small of your neck.

"So I was hopin' that you'd want to go out with me, officially... or whatever?" He cleared his throat. His morning voice was so sexy.

"Or whatever?" you smiled back up at him.

"Or wha-"

"Hey, Ed's, I'm finally back-Holy hell!-" Suddenly, Uncle Wayne was walking into the bedroom, and you were screaming, trying to cover yourself, and Eddie was trying to cover as much of you as he could.

Wayne was mortified as he shut the door behind him as quickly as possible.

"Put a sock on the door next time you have company, Kid!" Wayne shouted, flustered as ever.

Eddie barked out a laugh, and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

"Oh my god, I can't go out there? Do you think I can fit through the window?" You asked Eddie before covering your face with your hands.

"Come on, Pip. I'm sure he didn't see anything; probably only saw my pasty ass." He got up and pulled you along with him.

He found your folded clothes on the chair where you had left them, but when you went to put on your underwear, they were nowhere to be found.

You got dressed without them, and Eddie pulled you out of his room hand in hand to Face Wayne.

"So I guess it was your car all covered in snow." Wayne shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he sat at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee. "There uh- coffee for the both of ya's if you want." He offered.

"Thanks." You tugged at your sleeve, not knowing what to do. Should you leave? Should you stay? Can you leave? The show was up to your knees.

"Better make yourself comfortable; the plows will take a while to get to this side of town." Wayne made the decision for you. Eddie guided you to the kitchen table and pulled out a seat for you.

"Wayne, you remember Pippin, don't you?" Eddie smiled brightly as he got you two mugs.

"Of course I do." He smiled genuinely this time. The awkwardness was lifting.

Eddie didn't need to ask how you took your coffee. He remembered two creams and two sugar. He once said it was too sweet, just like you.

"Thanks," you smile up at him as he places your coffee before you.

"I was wondering when the two of you would finally get together... Ever since high school, I've been bugging this one," He motions to Eddie, " To get his head out of his ass and to lock you down already."

"Took him long enough, you giggle"

"Now I know you two are adults, but I don't need no little munson babies running around here just yet, so you better be safe-"

"Okay, okay, Old man, we get it. We have already had this uncomfortable talk once when I was fifteen. I don't need it again."

"Fifteen?!" your eyes blog you're off your head.

"What can I say? The ladies love them some, Eddie." he smiled cockily.

You lightly pinch Eddie's arm, so he shuts up.

"Hey!" Eddie rubbed his bicep.

I knew I always liked you." Wayne tipped up his mug to you with a smile. "keep him in line."

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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago

Text

Ten Minutes

Didn’t love this when I first wrote it. Left it in my drafts for a LONG freakin’ time. Found it again and no longer care, so here yall go; have fun! Probably not a part 2 to this one.

Steve takes a breath, then another, as he waits for the line to connect. He grits his teeth, feeling eyes on him. He does his best to ignore them.

“Munson residence, if you’re calling about the murders I’ve been absolved of, try going to hell instead.”

“I need you to pick me up.”

A pause. “Stevie?”

Steve takes another breath. Tries to unclench his jaw. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there- what-”

“My parents are in town.”

Another pause. “I’ll be there in ten. Try not to kill them.”

Steve laughs humorlessly. “Just hurry.”

“Ten minutes,” Eddie says, and hangs up.

Steve sighs, places the phone in its socket, and turns back to face his parents.

His mother is narrowing her eyes at him. “Who was that?”

“A friend,” he says lightly.

“Who, that Hagan boy?” His father scoffs.

“No. Not Tommy. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Oh, Steve,” his mother tuts. “Always so dramatic. We’ve not even been gone a year-”

Steve laughs. It sounds hollow. “Try four years,” he informs her. “And three concussions. Did you hear about the mall two years ago? Or the boy who went missing four years ago?” He shakes his head when his mother looks at him blankly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father snaps. “And don’t you dare speak to your mother in that tone again, Steven. You’re still a child and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you as such.”

“I’m twenty,” Steve says evenly. “I’ll be twenty-one in five months.” He crosses his arms. “The last time you saw me, I was a freshman in high school. I’ve graduated. I found jobs. Lost some friends and made some better ones.”

“And what of that girl you were dancing around?” His mother asks. “Karen’s daughter?”

“We’re friends,” he says shortly, then moves through the kitchen, to the stairs. “Excuse me.”

“No,” his father says. “You’re not excused. Where do you think you’re going?”

Steve turns, one hand on the bannister, to look at the man who had terrified him the last time he’d seen him. It’s funny what interdimensional threats will do. “To pack a bag. I’m not going to stay here while you are.”

“And if I were to say we’re staying for good?”

Steve laughs. “Dad, you’ve said that before. Multiple times, actually. Those words mean nothing to me anymore.”

“And where are you planning on staying?” His mother asks. “Honestly, Steven, I thought we raised you to make better decisions than this.”

“Oh, I see. So it was raising me when I woke up at nine years old to discover you’d left and I’d have to find my own way to school. Then a week later when I had to ride my bike to the store to buy groceries. At eleven, when I looked the school counselor in the eye and said you’d be back soon. I had to go to my own parent-teacher conferences. At fifteen, trying to figure out high school classes. At seventeen when I got my first concussion. At eighteen when I signed my first legally-binding NDA. You hadn’t abandoned me. You were raising me.” He sighs, shakes his head. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

He makes his way up to his room and packs as much as he can. Clothes. Vinyls. The box of cash under the loose floorboard. Then into the bathroom. Toothbrush, deodorant, even his shampoo. Doubles back into his room to grab a bracelet off his nightstand; one El made him.

He looks around, grabs the nail bat, and makes his way downstairs. His mother gasps when she sees him. “What on earth is that?”

He looks at the bat. Adjusts his grip, twirls it around. “An NDA.”

The doorbell rings. Steve grabs his bags and moves towards it. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never walk back in.”

“Fine by me,” Steve says. He grabs his keys, tosses the house key at his father, and pockets the rest.

He opens the door and grins at Eddie, who’s looking at him worriedly. “Hey, Eds. Ready to go?”

Eddie blinks. “Um. Sure? Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugs. “I’m getting kicked out. If you don’t want to take me I’ll just go bug Robin. It’ll only be for a little while, though, just until I find a better job and an apartment or something.”

“Like hell Wayne’s gonna miss this chance,” Eddie grins. “You know you’re his favorite.”

Steve smiles back, tosses his things into the back of Eddie’s van. “I hoped you were gonna say that.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #idk if it’s clear or not but Steve and Eddie ARE dating in this one!!#getting kicked out #Steve Harrington has shit parents #hopefully this isn’t terrible ig #starambles

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fuctacles · 4 months ago

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wereshifter au pt 3, but things get dumber

<<2 | 3 | 4>>

Eddie avoids the park on the next day, doesn't leave the house much at all, really, but he runs into the dog on his way out of a supermarket. He smiles involuntarily, reaching out to pet him.

"Hi, bud," he greets it, and they start the walk back to his van. But before he opens the passenger door to put the groceries there and let the dog hop in, he freezes. He looks down at his furry friend, staring at him so eagerly and with so much trust, and his heart breaks. But nevertheless, he drops his hand away from the door handle, and takes a step back.

"Listen, man," he says, then sighs before dropping to his knees to address the dog properly and look a little bit less insane while doing it. "This is stupid," he murmurs to himself, before continuing. "I can't take you with me, okay? No more house visits. I'd love to play with you at the park, or something, but you can't come with me anymore." The dog's ears drop, like he can understand everything. Eddie continues. "Turns out, one of my friends is allergic to dog fur, so I can't have you over." He reaches out, hoping the ear scratches will be enough consolation. "I know you have a family somewhere, you should go to them."

The dog huffs almost angrily at that, but seems too happy with Eddie's petting to leave. So he indulges them both with some more scratches before he stands up, hoisting the grocery bag along with him.

"See you around?" he asks, rounding the car towards the driver seat. His dog friend follows, but sits on the sidewalk to watch him enter the van. Eddie can almost sense the betrayal behind his stare. "I know, buddy, I'm sad too," he says, closing the door. They stare at each other for another second before Eddie turns on the engine and peels off.

After a week, he starts missing his little trips to the park, so he substitutes with reading a book on the porch. His free hand itches to scratch behind furry ears, so he gets some peanuts to keep it occupied instead.

He hangs out with the boys like he always does, and he spots the kids on his way there, playing with his dog friend. When he hops over to say hi, it stops in it tracks, eyeing him warily. Eddie is lowkey afraid of losing a finger but approaches the dog anyway to give him a friendly (but not overly so) scratch.

"Hi, bud. Having fun?" he asks, and the dog presses more into his hand. "Okay, okay," he chuckles, giving into the silent ask for pets. When he looks up, everyone's looking at them weirdly.

Yes, Eddie Munson likes dogs, fuck off.

He rolls his eyes and straightens up.

"Everyone good for Hellfire on Friday?"

Looks like he's found new friends already, and Eddie doesn't have to worry.

"Hello?"

"Steve! Hi!" Eddie perks up to the voice in his receiver. It feels like years since the last time he's heard Steve. "I've scrubbed the place, and myself, clean, and washed all my clothes twice."

He hears his friend snort on the other line.

"Congrats?" Steve offers, and Eddie can feel a dry smile pulling on his lips.

"Har, har, Harrington, I'm talking about your allergy. It should be safe to come over if you're still interested. Or, I could just..." He leans heavily on the wall, picking at his cuticles while he offers the less favorable option. "Home deliver you a few joints."

Sure, it would be nice to have a guy friend his age who went through the same horrors as him. But if said guy didn't feel the same, keeping a casual connection would be enough for Eddie. Maybe Steve had enough apocalypse-fighting friends of his own and didn't need one more, a loser super-super-senior trailer trash, too.

"No, dude, it's alright. I've just been busy, and kinda not feeling like myself, you know?"

Eddie wants to scream. He does know. Who else would know better, who else had his flesh eaten by demonic bats from a hell dimension?

"Uh-huh," is all he offers, though. He feels weirdly similar to that time in middle school when Cindy McGee said she didn't want to dance with him.

"I guess I just need some space?" Steve said uncertainly. "You're still invited to the end of summer pool party, of course."

Well, good to know that he could come to the party they've all promised each other as soon as both the Vecna thing and school year were over.

"Yeah, cool, quick question though." Eddie licks his lips, his anger rising. He bumps away from the wall, ready to strike and throw the phone down. "And be honest with me, because I hate liars. Are you avoiding me?"

There's silence on the other side.

"Eddie..."

"Steve," Eddie interrupts him. "I don't want bullshit. I want to know if I should fuck off. It will suck but I will take it. Just say you don't want to hang out with me. That's fine. Not the first or the last time it happened."

Steve sighs on the other end of the line.

"I do want to hang out," he says. "But I have a lot to think about and I need some space. Is that okay?"

Eddie is close to folding down, but not close enough not to add:

"Do you need space from everyone or just me?"

"Honestly? Everyone. But especially you."

That was such a stupid fucking answer Eddie had to bite his knuckle not to growl in frustration.

"Okay," he spat out, proud of himself for not yeling. "Don't tell me. Reach out whenever you feel ready." He's less proud of how he slams the phone on the cradles. He feels like shit as he looks at the machine for any damage he might have caused.

He has his answers, Steve confirmed he doesn't want to see him, and he told his dog off too. So aside from the younger members of the Party, he had only Nancy and Jonathan to talk to. Argyle too, if he was still in town. Robin was out of the question, because she would babble everything back to Steve immediately. And he wasn't ready to talk to parental figures like Joyce or Hopper yet.

Eddie takes a few calming breaths and dials another number from his list.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Eddie."

"Eddie!" Dustin's voice cheers up immediately and helps him brighten up as well. "What's up, how are you doing?"

"Eh, I'm managing." He shrugs. "Hey, do you think Steve is avoiding me?" he asks straight to the point.

Dustin groans.

"Yes!" he answers and Eddie's stomach sinks. "But he's been avoiding the rest of us too. And he's been weird for weeks now. But I promised I wouldn't tell anything." There's a frustrated groan on the other end followed by thuds, like someone was punching or kicking something close to the phone. "You have to ask him yourself. But I will grill him, and try coaxing it out of him. Give me a moment."

"No, Dustin-!" Eddie didn't want to make the situation ever more tense than it already was, but Dustin was already off with his own plan. He realizes far too late that he might not have been the best person to call.

He has half a mind to call Steve again with a warning but he doesn't want to worsen his position even further. It will be bad enough when he finds out Eddie sent Dustin after him. Maybe the best course of action is to let it play out with minimal input and whatever happens, happens. In the worst-case scenario, he still has his Corroded Coffin guys.

Eventually, he holes himself up in his room, waiting for the storm to pass.

see, and i forgot to tag, just like I said I would. Anyway: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #wereshifter au #shapeshifter steve harrington #werewolf steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #ff

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skrrts · 4 months ago

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here in the rain, will you smile again? (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x jeong yunho ✧ former high school sweethearts ✧ genre: non idol, romance, sad, still in love, comfort ✧ word count: 5,4k ✧ warnings: mention of heartbreak, insecurities, painful breakup in the past, crying

Jeong Yunho was more than your high school sweetheart; he was the love of your life, although you only understood it later, regretting how the two of you let your parents force you to break up to focus on your academic future. You never believed in fate, but that day, when you crossed the street in the pouring rain and saw him: soaked, the flowers of a bouquet falling on the street as he was waiting for somebody who would not come. Maybe it always had meant to be that way because, in the end, you always knew the two of you belonged together.

a/n: so far, my one-shots for him have been very sweet and soft, so i wanted to write something different. mostly a short story of high school sweethearts reuniting because they never really stopped loving each other. (it does have a happy ending)

You looked up to the sky, the heavy grey clouds swallowed even the smallest hint of sunshine. Autumn had come quietly just like every year and before you knew it, Summer was gone, the leaves started to change their color like a sad love song that everyone knew but nobody really wanted to listen to. You were glad now that you had a diligent friend such as Seonghwa who sent you a text not to forget your umbrella this morning because he knew you would have otherwise.

The workday had been short, really. When you arrived at the office in the morning, the internet already had been off, and there really only could be so much done when your programs mainly required to be connected to the digital online network. It had been some time since you last had a free afternoon in the middle of the week but it was a good thing. Every vacation, you just pressured yourself to shove as much as possible in the one or two weeks, to feel like it was worth it but it being so unexpected, maybe it would be fun just to go with whatever came to mind.

While the rain wasn’t the most inviting condition, you were used to it. In the small town you came from, the rain was as much a local as the several hundred people living there. As memories dwelled up, you shoved them aside and stared down at your smartphone instead, thumb brushing over to scroll through a few recommendations. It was sweet, that you found this little forum where people from different parts of the city recommended their favorites a few weeks ago and now finally had an excuse to try it. You hated crowded places and it was welcoming to go somewhere you could count on to be nice.

“This looks cute,” your gaze stopped on a small café which wasn’t too far from here. If you cheated and took the crossing at the cinema, you would be there in no time. The idea of a cup of big green tea was nice right now, maybe together with a slice of cake. You worked extra hard lately, and your latest project was a big success.

You sighed as you finally stepped ahead and through the rain, trying to dodge little puddles of rainwater. From a career perspective, everything worked out for you. Thanks to some networking during college, you snatched a job with plenty of potential right after graduation, and from there, you steadily worked yourself up, you even only had two sick days in three years at this company.

Your private life, on the other hand, it was hard to really say it existed and that wasn’t because you lacked free time, actually, if anything your work schedule was steady, your employer one to ensure that they could market themself with an accurate work-life balance. You had friends, went to the gym twice a week and a cutea pet bunny waited for you at home because your landlord wasn’t accepting bigger pets.

Love just never worked out for you but there was no reason to waste time searching for advice online, going to speed dating, or having your friends set you up with somebody. The reason was always so obvious to you.

You already found the love of your life once, during those cursed high school years you often still yearned back for, not because life had been easier but because he still was in it. Nobody ever could live up to him because he had been the right one for you and you always believed it had been the same for him.

It wasn’t that you tried but somehow…

You shook your head, trying not to let your throat go dry again because your body always still reacted to it, even after seven years, it was as it could remember the feeling from that day, when you called for his name and his brother finally pulled him away because both of your parents agreed you were a distraction to each other because you wanted to go to the same college, spending every free minute side by side, leading to his parents to forcefully make him change high school for his final year.

“Tch,” you rubbed over your eyes, stopping as stupid tears dwelled on it. Why was it that love like that would not go away? Yes, this too you would not mind, you often silently prayed to your heart to release you but it would not, clinging stupidly to a hope that did not exist.

Fate did not exist.

Somebody stumbled into you, only rushing an apology and a quick bow because it led to you dropping your umbrella. You cursed a little, more so scolding yourself to be lost in those silly old memories on a free afternoon when your gaze caught a figure.

It was difficult to say what it was, maybe the familiarity you just never shook off, maybe it was because there was so much sadness about it that your own seemed almost like nothing.

He must have been standing in the pouring rain for some time, his clothes soaking, hair clinging to his face and the bouquet of flowers started to slowly crumble to the ground, little leaves falling as it was not made to withstand the angry autumn weather.

Your heart was beating loudly, a drumming in your ears that even the traffic sound disappeared and all you could do was … walk. Your body was already on its way, it refused for your mind to actually step in, telling it how considering he had been waiting for somebody, quite obviously a person important, this was not the moment to make it worse.

Fate said: fuck you, I exist, now have your punishment for doubting me!

When you took the last stair, your steps finally slowed and you needed a moment to make it to his side. Carefully, yet gently your hand leaned forward and then, the world around you disappeared, all that was left was that small space underneath your umbrella.

“You shouldn’t stand here like that in the rain without an umbrella,” your voice scolded him gently.

Jeong Yunho looked up when your voice reached him.

Why was it that he was crying when he saw you?

Yunho had known, this date was a foolish idea but what could he do about it? His heart yearned to be loved and to love, to have somebody who would smile at him and allow for his embrace to gently curl around. Lazy morning in bed, holding hands while walking through the city, ignoring the dull landscape autumn brought to it every time and a smile. He wanted to see a smile that would make his heart race.

It wasn’t a fantasy he desired to make true but a memory of something he had held until he lost it because of his wrongdoing. He wasn’t able to be the son his parents wanted and so, he did what they asked of him.

What would you do when you were seventeen, madly in love but also a child who wanted to make his parents proud, who believed so much in them that surely, they knew best?

He doubted it, the moment you screamed his name, asking him not to go and how his brother pulled him back to the car. Yet, both of you had accepted it, you lowered your heads to make your families proud and in return, his heart felt empty ever since. Nobody managed to fill it because nobody was you.

No, he didn't want any love, he wanted yours. He always did because once, it had been his.

Sure, the little flirts at his workplace had been sincere from his side or he told himself so, that woman was quick to return it but maybe as she learned how Yunho had this cliche dream of a simple life with a little family of his own, she changed her mind.

He felt like a fool standing in front of the cinema with flowers, knowing already half an hour later that she would not come, but not even the rain chased him away because maybe he wanted to cling to the hope that he was good enough for somebody, that maybe all it needed was time and they would be here, take him for who he was. Maybe he did not lose all the rights with you, but then would it be fair? Because deep down he just wanted ...

So he waited. For two hours. And then, he was found.

It was as the world cleared up, the rain stopped falling and a face came into view that was as beautiful as yesterday, yet so different that he could not deny he’d have been a little shy.

You held the umbrella right above him, scolding him for standing in the pouring rain.

Yunho’s mouth opened but no words were coming out as he was staring at you, the way how you had grown up so much but there was still all of the sweetness in your features he had fallen so hard for the first time back in junior year of High School, when introduced yourself as his science partner for the year.

The damn tears wouldn't stop now.

You never were shy to do whatever it needed to make those you loved smile, even if it likely meant hurting yourself in the process.

To make him smile in the middle of the rain in a city, after seven years apart.

“Sorry I’m late, I got I was a little distracted. Are those for me?”

It took Yunho a moment to realize you were pointing to the flowers in his hands which now were only a sad reflection of their earlier state.

He spent twenty minutes trying to choose a pair and only now, he realized he had gotten your favorite flowers. How did not pay attention to this sooner?

The world seemed to be standing still, that moment when Yunho wondered what he was doing. He waited and waited and he never … went back to you although it was all he wanted but he was undeserving.

So why were you here like that?

And then you stepped closer and reached out for his cheek, he froze under the touch but your hand was soft and gentle. “Don’t cry, I am sorry I am late.”

Your voice was a soft whisper and you brushed a tear away from his cheek before taking the flowers carefully from his hands. “Mh, I guess we do not have to worry about giving them water then any time soon. Here, let’s go. Get you somewhere warm and dry.”

Your hand grabbed him and you pulled him along, inside the cinema where a few people threw glances at you, no surprise, thinking how his appearance must have looked to any of them.

Finally, after minutes must have passed, Yunho found his voice again, although it was far from its usual self: “Y/N?” It was as he needed confirmation that this was truly you and you were here with him.

“Sh, sit! We can worry about the rest later.”

You replied and pulled the wet scarf from his neck and forced him to shrug out of his coat. His cheeks started to turn red as he watched how you took care of him, using your own scarf to ruffle his hair a little more dry, and looked over his figure.

“Why are you so reckless? Standing in the rain like that. You always get a cold so easily,” you finally sat still and looked at him.

Yunho no longer could change it, he had to reach out and cup your face and you held still like you understood he needed to do this to be sure, that you really just had come back to him.

You always came running towards him while all he was doing was waiting.

“I guess, I was waiting for you,” he whispered and hated how his eyes got wet again, how the tears would not stop from floating. The moment your arms curled around him, he found himself burying his face against your shoulder, feeling your hands soothingly brushing over the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, I am here now. There, no reason to worry about it. I won’t go anywhere.”

It didn’t feel like seven years were apart this moment and the last time you held each other in your arms just like that.

Yet, the familiarity finally managed to make him relax and he whispered your name again, wanting to make sure you knew.

It was hard seeing Yunho like that, his beautiful smile absent from his handsome face. Maybe it was a stupid idea for you to act like that, to say the things you did but then, was it? Did you not just admit to yourself how you longed for him, waiting for anything even close to what the two of you once shared to come into your life?

People were staring, they always did and you did not worry about it, let them watch how somebody had a hard day. If they knew how seven years, almost a decade of separation was between the two of you, would they still?

Yunho finally seemed to relax, his fingers now took your hands and he looked at them like it was the first time, his thumb brushing over the soft skin. There was no rush, now that the two of you sat here together, if anything rush was what you feared, the thought of him leaving pushed far into the back of your mind.

“My apartment is close by,” Yunho finally said. “If you do not mind we skip the movie, I guess you are right and I should get something dry to wear.”

Even if he tried to hide just how nervous he was to ask you that, it was easy to tell because you knew him better than anyone else and it seemed, the love of your life did not change to much, even with seven years passing by since you last held him in your arms.

It was the tears in his eyes back in the rain that made you do this, your heart could not take it to see him like that, not after longing for the softness of his smile for so long. In that moment, all that mattered had been to stop those tears but you noticed them constantly threatening to return in the edge of his eyes.

“That seems like a good idea, let’s get you there then;” you nodded and carefully picked up the flowers again, waiting for Yunho to slip back into the wet coat but when you reached for the umbrella, he shook his head: “Let me take this one for us. You haven’t gotten very tall still, so this will be easier.”

His little joke helps you to relax and you nod: “Sounds good.”

Back in high school, the two of you often would walk like that to school, when it would not stop raining just back then you were holding hands and talking about silly nonsense. It seemed so far away now with the buzzing streets of the city, and people rushing by to be done with their day. You wondered if Yunho was thinking something similar: Did he think about all the past memories or maybe, even wish to reach out for your hand?

You would take it without hesitation.

“There we are,” his gentle voice made you look up and you were surprised just how close it had been. There was an odd feeling in your stomach, thinking how often you walked this street to work but you never knew your high school sweetheart was living here.

At least, the guilt shrank a little when you stepped in and it was easy to see that Yunho only must have moved in recently, a dozen boxes still standing around, some halfway opened.

“It’s a little messy. I used to work at a different branch, I only came here like two months ago… I kept finding excuses to take my time with it,” he explained, likely having noticed your gaze. He placed the umbrella next to the door and stripped it out of his streetwear. You were here to ensure that he would be okay but Yunho instantly fell back into his patterns.

He always put everyone else first, especially you and he was quick to offer you some comfortable slippers, some that brought some color to his cheek because they had the shape of cute dogs.

“Do you want something to drink? Soda, coffee, tea? I also have water, of course!” He looked at you with his big eyes and if you wouldn’t know better, he seemed nervous.

“How about I make us some tea and you change into something dry? I am sure I can find everything I need for that,” you replied, giving him a small and playful shove, ignoring that you no longer were teens but two people in their mid-20s working big jobs.

There was a small pout on his face, followed by a sigh: “Fineee, I shall be going. See you in a minute.” You couldn’t hold back the chuckle when you watched him almost racing to what seemingly was his bedroom.

After shrugging out of your shoes and jacket, you put up your scarf to dry before moving over to the kitchen area, putting the poor bouquet into a glass of clear water before slowly opening the cabinets which proved to be a challenge. Damn Yunho was a giant and everyday necessities were stored at a height comfortable for him, so you needed to grab a stool to reach the packages of tea. You were quite sure to hear a wardrobe often a few times too often in the bedroom, and small hisses which made you smile.

When the two of you went on your first date, it was a little like that too. His mother had told you to wait but when still wasn’t there after fifteen minutes, you sneaked upstairs to find him being lost of what to wear best to impress you. You shook your head, reminding yourself that this was different, and poured two cups of tea.

The place felt like him, small little details were making it comfortable and warm. You sat down on the couch and allowed your gaze to wander until it got stuck on one particular photo on the wall: it was the class picture from the last yearbook before he was forced to change schools.

“Feels like an eternity, right”? his warm voice filled the air and you met with his smile. His hair was still wet but he had changed into an oversized knitted sweater, showing a little bit of collarbone, and a fresh pair of jeans. Somehow, it made him look younger again.

“Right? I can’t believe we are supposed to have one of those class meetings next year, I really do not feel that old yet,” you casually joked back before leaning over, and offering him the other cup of tea: “There you go, you need to warm up, even with dry clothes.”

He made a face but listened, sitting down next to you. When you saw he wasn’t even wearing socks, you sighed because there were many memories of small summer colds because Yunho just was so reckless.

“You really are something, Jeong Yunho!” Your arm reached over and you grabbed a blanket, starting to wrap him up until you were satisfied he looked warm and comfortable.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he replied, muttering into the tea. It seemed neither of you really wanted to ask or talk about how exactly he had ended up in the rain like that. Instead, you sat down on the couch next to him, turning around to cross your legs and sipping on your own tea. It was not really hard to see he had so many questions, and so did you.

“My workplace is really nearby, our internet went off today and I suddenly found myself with a free afternoon;” you started, just to offer him anything.

“Maybe it’s time for a cat, you know? I am going towards my thirties now, being a single cat owner is almost mandatory to me but the firm who owns my complex says no. I got a bunny instead, do you want to see a photo?”

It was so easy just to chat with Yunho, and tell him everything and nothing important. Your mind just settled with a habit you forgot you once had and you leaned over to show him the photo of the white fuzzy loop bunny. “This is Fluffs, yes I named him so because he just has too much fur but he is very patient when it comes to brushing.”

Yunho looked up, giving you a silly smile: “Right, so much to your talent of naming things.” You both laughed together and he was looking at the photos you showed him but all so often, you could feel his gaze on your face.

Did you mention being single on purpose? Yes, because you did not want to waste time on those things when instead, you would selfishly just take anything he’d give to you, ignoring that every day eventually had an end.

“I think, those were all,” you nodded and kept your phone in your hands, hesitant before offering it to him, looking away.

“You know… if you give me your number, I could send you photos of him here and then?”

Now you finally really blushed and you could see how Yunho seemed happy about it. He bowed and took the phone, saving his number before offering it back: “I am waiting patiently for updates.”

It was when your fingers touched again and for a moment, the two of you held in and looked at each other. The cups both rested on the small couch table at this point and allowed for Yunho to be just a little daring because he was leaning closer, the blanket slipping off his shoulder. And then, his big hands rested on your face, one gently cupping your chin as your eyes met.

Words would be hard right now, there was no way to describe the sorrow of separation, the years of yearning and looking for something only one other person could give you. Regret would be wasted because there was no way to bring back what was lost but maybe, there was something true about the saying how one still had this very moment.

If this had been a movie, viewers would be disappointed now, because there was no kiss, no deep devotion of love. Yunho allowed his forehead to rest against yours, his arms finally curled around your body and he pulled you closer. His face was properly buried against his neck and you could feel the tears against your skin, the way his body tensed, and then, the small soft sobs that escaped him.

You did not know why Yunho was in so much sorrow. Of course, your heartbreak had been intense too, you did not even go to prom on your graduation because all you could think was how he was not there. And in every important event of your life since, when couples embraced, your coworkers were picked up by their spouse, you thought of him.

Yeah, you really were a pitiful thing because how could you think of him every time but you never managed to get yourself out there looking? Times had been there, once, when you met his brother but he would not tell you anything other than Yunho was doing fine… and you just left it like that.

“Hey there, look at me,” you finally very slowly moved after letting him cry for some time, now you captured his face: “It’s okay.”

But you could read it off his face: “It’s my fault. If not for me being so careless, we never would have broken up and I’d not … you’d not have to cry so much.”

You were relieved that he was not withdrawing but only looked away: “I was… stupid. I thought, that so many people had done it before so why not us? I meant to wait until we had graduated…But my mom found it and then she just lost it. My parents wouldn’t listen when I told them it was not like that, how it did not mean I planned not going to college, just that we wanted to go together and how I’d not see why not…”

Yunho seemed not to hold it back much longer but only a few things made sense. You could remember that day, in the morning everything had been perfect until you two came back from a small summer trip. His and your parents sitting together, then telling you how the relationship they supported for two years suddenly was no longer acceptable, how it would affect your grades and future, so they would no longer allow for it.

The way you both begged them, saying it wasn’t true and how you would surely go to college, do all of those things but they would not have it, Yunho’s parents already signed him into another high school.

“What do you mean?” you carefully asked, thumb brushing over his cheek.

“I brought a ring, from the money I made at the Summer job. I knew it would be the last chance to save up before college. I wanted to propose to you when we would have graduated, I knew how dumb I was back then but I just knew that you should be the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. When my mother found the ring by accident… she misunderstood it.”

Your mouth formed a small "Oh" because suddenly, it made sense. Yunho’s parents were kind people, but they always would do what they thought was best for their son and finally, you understood. Yunho must have blamed himself for all of this in the past seven years. The thought pained you greatly.

“Oh Yunho, we were barely seventeen and our parents had all of those great hopes and dreams for how the lives of their children should be. This is not your fault,” you pulled him into another hug and his tall form clung to you.

This was not his fault and suddenly, you came to accept nor was it yours. Yes, you could have looked for him but back then, there was nothing you could have done in that very moment, except to be reckless but this would not have been who you fell in love with. You two were in love but always caring for your families, like most kids.

For a moment, you hesitated and it was a foolish question but it blurred out before you knew it: “Do you still have it…?”

He knew exactly what you were talking about and moved back a little, his arm rubbing over his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears.

Yunho stood up slowly, moving to one of the boxes before he opened it. You remembered that silly shoe box he pulled out, covered in stickers and polaroids you took together. His fingers were gentle when he revealed a small satin box and walked back over to you.

There was a moment of hesitation before he opened it to show you the ring. It was delicate but simple, just a small silver band with yours and his name craved in and likely room for a date for the day of the proposal. It really suited him but also you because you never liked bulky or lavish details in jewelry.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered and he looked at you. Yunho swallowed before he moved to sit a little closer to you again. His beautiful hands were almost a little shaking when he lifted your left hand, waiting for a moment to see if you’d pull back but when you did not, the ring slipped on your finger and even after all those years, it was a perfect fit.

“It was always meant for you, so you should have it,” he whispered. This time, you were the one to shift, moving towards him and placing yourself onto his lap.

“Yunho, you know I always waited for you, right? Even if I was so foolish this once not to rush towards you… nobody ever could fill that spot you left, it’s like it was always yours, just waiting for you to come back to it.”

The metal of the ring was cool against his skin when he reached out for this hand and placed kisses on it.

“You were the only one who ever really belonged to me.”

The two of you were searching for something, but it was easy to find in each other’s eyes. “Then this time, let’s make sure it doesn’t stay empty,” you whispered. “I promise if you are late, I will come, running right towards you. Leave it to me, you won’t ever feel alone again.”

Yunho looked at you before he pulled you into a hug: “You won’t have to run towards me again because now that you are back where you belong, I promise I won’t ever let go again.” You nuzzled your head against his shoulder and sighed in relief.

For a while, he just pulled the blanket over your figures, now feeling an awful lot exhausted. This was not how you imagined this day to turn out to be but it was perfect just like that. There was no reason to speak anymore, the comfort was given just by each other’s company and eventually, the two of you relaxed, laying down on the couch, Yunho holding you tightly in his arms as you closed your eyes and drifted off.

It looked like he fell asleep a little after you. Yunho stirred, his neck a little stiff from the uncomfortable couch. The moment he reached out for you and the spot was empty, his eyes widened and he sat up, mind split between barely awake and fear.

He still could hear the fall of rain outside, splattered the windows but it had gotten dark, nightfall had come and only left small traces of light from the street lamps. Your phone wasn’t there either. Yunho panicked, he almost fell off the couch.

“Y/N?!”

The way he called out for you was a mix of fear and maybe more desperate than he wanted to admit. The idea of losing you again, he could not bear it. There was no way he could do this again and as his bare feet walked over the cool wooden flooring, rushing towards the front door, a wave of light blinded him, coming from his bedroom.

“Yunho? I’m sorry, my boss called me, she wouldn’t stop. I told her, I have to take a sick day tomorrow 'cause I got into the rain… hey, what’s up?”

He reached out for you right away, hugging you tightly: “Just a bad dream, I thought you were gone.”

It was barely a whisper but you understood him right away.

Just as you always did.

“Not going anywhere anymore,” you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before taking his hand, taking a step back, and pulling him towards the bedroom.

“And where to? We have so much to do you, you know? Meet your colleagues, and then you meet mine. Take cute photos, try cake! Lots of cake! Decide what place we like best.”

Yunho blinked as he fell onto his bed with you. This was much more comfortable and he pulled you close, placing kisses over your shoulder before resting his chin on top of your head.

“Cake and places?” he asked before leaning back to look you in the eyes.

You had this incredibly cute and confident grin on your lips and now that he thought of it, it was more sexy than adorable. You had become such an incredible person and he could not wait to spend the rest of his life with you. To have the person he loved the most by his side again while also learning all about what was new.

Nothing would separate you again.

“Well, we have been engaged for eight years now, yes? I think, it’s about time we do the thing!”

Yunho blushed as he looked at you and your features softened but the two of you knew it was true.

Because, the two of you always belonged to each other, been each others', and even with so many years apart, it never would change just that.

“I love you,” he whispered, and his heart jumped when you said those words he longed to hear again for so long back right away.

Without hesitation.

You were together

The drum of rain gently fell against the window. Autumn had come.

But maybe with the right person by your side, it always could be summer.

#yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho fic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez writing #yh tag #yunho oneshoot #reis writes #romance tag

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beom1e · 5 months ago

Text

jerk! giving up

between a friend from college coming to visit and the common occurrence of yeonjun putting his relationship before your friendship, the last thing you need is beomgyu waiting to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong. but despite his need to fight with you on everything, his actions show a completely different side of him. a side that cares for you.

pairing choi beomgyu x fem! reader

genre humour, angst, fluff, guitarist! beomgyu

warning cursing, alcohol, hangover, nausea, jealousy

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you fixed your hair in the mirror, trying to find the perfect balance between messy and neat. the door into the bathroom on beomgyu’s side pushed open, and you cursed under your breath as he stepped into the room. you straightened up and looked at him expectantly, waiting for his harsh words or at the very least a complaint. he stayed silent.

his eyes trailed across your figure. you were dressed in a way he’d never seen you dress before, and you were wearing a much more mature style of makeup. you were looking at him through narrowed eyes beneath a sultry smokey-eye, and your lips were painted a seductive red. he swallowed thickly and averted his gaze towards the linoleum floor.

‘why are you staring at me?’ you rolled your eyes and turned back to the mirror to dab at your lipstick.

‘you look ridiculous,’ he lied. ‘where are you going?’

‘a friend of mine from school is coming to visit,’ you explained. ‘we’re going to hit the club and then she’s going to crash here for the night. so, please, knock before you barge in like you just did.’

‘is that really a good idea?’ he raised a brow.

‘what, clubbing?’ you scoffed. ‘okay, grandpa.’

‘drowning your sorrows with alcohol,’ he stated. ‘it’s only your fault that yeonjun made a move on that music store girl. you should have been clear about your feelings.’

‘stay out of it,’ you sighed, looking down at your hands that were gripping firmly onto the sink’s edge. ‘why are you even talking to me? we’re not friends.’

‘and whose fault is that?’ he shot back. you groaned with frustration as you headed back into your bedroom. ‘you’re the one always pushing me away.’

‘huh?’ you spun on your heel to face him. he’d stopped under your doorway. ‘because there was no reason for you to act like such a dick the other day. one second you’re this guy who went to college but loved music more than his degree, the next you’re an insufferable piece of shit who would do anything to piss me off. and you had the audacity to come knocking on my bedroom door as if that’d solve anything.’

‘i’ll leave,’ he rolled his eyes. still, he felt guilt consume him and this sense of doom as he wondered if you’d ever speak to him again. ‘and i’ll use taehyun’s bathroom.’

why did he care? he wanted to rip his hair out of his scalp at the mere thought that he’d grown to care for you.

he was a better person than you knew. he loved those closest to him intensely. he was the best at giving advice and thought of music as a healthy escape. he’d taken great care when editing the songs you’d originally wrote, always turning to the rest of the band for confirmation that it wouldn’t bother you before the music was officially released. yet, somehow, you had this idea in your head that he’d waltzed into the space you left behind and hated you for even existing. that wasn’t the case, you’d just failed to make an initial connection.

still, something had changed.

he could only ever think of you as the girl who showed up out of the blue and claimed that he’d stolen her life. the girl who went out of her way to push him to the limits. but now, you were this girl chasing a life you didn’t want and leaving behind a dream too far out of reach. the girl who lost her hometown, her friends, her music, her childhood sweetheart, and now her second chance at having it all again.

if he could, he would be hitting his head against the wall and praying for the return of the surface-level impression he used to have of you. but he recalled the way you rushed to wipe away your tears and the cracking of your voice. he thought about it a lot. he thought about you a lot. he always had, honestly. despite the jealousy, he’d always wondered about this ray of sunshine his friends had always described. he wanted to meet the genius behind the lyrics. he wanted to make you proud. and then he began to think about you after your first meeting, and where he went wrong. he tried to ignore it and blame it on your childish feud, but no one else thinks so often of a girl they claim to dislike.

he closed your bedroom door with a huff.

you headed towards your bedside table and dug your hand into the bag of gummy worms kai had bought for you the other day. as your teeth pulled back against the gummy treat, your phone began to ring. it was yeonjun. you stared at the screen and waited for his contact photo to disappear. a scanned photograph of your childhood selves sharing an electric guitar at the music store you had once loved so dearly. you really had to get around to changing it, probably to a selfie taken right from his instagram.

the room fell silent after the ringtone stopped. and then your phone began to ring and buzz with text messages from your best friend. you squealed excitedly and jumped up from the bed, knocking the pack of gummy worms to the ground.

taehyun stopped in his tracks as you pulled open your bedroom door. you sent him a smile as you skipped down the hallway and headed for the staircase. as your feet met the final step, you heard her voice as she was escorted into the seating area by soobin. you rushed towards them with another excited squeal, causing soobin to jump and yelp.

‘y/n!’ she called as she ran towards you. your arms wrapped around one another out of instinct, and she began to jump up and down with you in her arms. she leaned in closer and lowered her voice. ‘why didn’t you warn me about how rich they all are? i would have tried harder with my appearance.’

‘oh, please,’ you rolled your eyes and looped your arm through hers. ‘come on, i’ll show you to my room. oh, and i share a bathroom with this really annoying guy but he promised to not use it while you’re here.’

‘really annoying guy?’ she turned her head towards you and raised a brow. ‘you mean beomgyu?’

‘precisely,’ you nodded shortly.

‘yeonjun is calling you again,’ your best friend spoke before continuing to sip from her straw. your gaze cast down towards your phone before you shrugged. ‘what’s up with you two?’

‘literally nothing, as always,’ you sighed. ‘he met this girl and the rest is history. i refuse to entertain him any longer.’

‘you’re giving up on him?’ she raised a brow, shock evident in her expression. for as long as she had known you, yeonjun seemed to be the only guy you’d ever truly wanted.

‘he’s not the only guy in the world,’ you rolled your eyes and picked up your glass. you stirred the icy liquid with your straw as you stared at the base of the glass. ‘i’ve dated other guys and had no issue before. i think i only wanted him because he was like this connection to my childhood, and being here just makes me nostalgic. but i’m not a child anymore. i mean, look around, there’s a hundred guys in here alone.’

‘just don’t do anything stupid,’ she warned as she finished her drink. ‘and don’t go home with any of them. how on earth would i find that awkwardly hidden mansion all on my own?’

you laughed audibly. it felt good to see her again. she was a reminder of the life you had now, after spending too much time in a world you no longer belonged in. the five boys were just a friend group of yours, nothing more. you didn’t live here anymore, you didn’t make music, you weren’t going to fit perfectly back into their lives. you had a career to chase and a group of wonderful people in another city. you had past loves, mistakes, memories, favourite spots, records of your time at college. what did you have here besides a lost dream?

‘should we dance?’ you smiled as you set your glass down.

‘obviously,’ she pulled herself up and threw her bag over her shoulder.

you grabbed the remainder of your things and abandoned the table you had been sitting at for over an hour now. your friend reached for your hand and began to pull you through the centre of the crowd. to her, it was just a bunch of strangers together in one room. to you, it was the people you had sat beside at a desk during your school years, still waiting around in this town for something great to happen to them. hopelessly holding onto the love they have for their hometown, and not the desire to move onto bigger things.

you would have been the same, had you been given the chance. to sit and wait around for your music career to take off, and never receive a full education. your parents wanted more for you. still, you wondered if things would have went your way had you stayed. would you been as successful as beomgyu is now?

the most popular songs of the week played through the speakers, regularly being mixed together in order to create a messy transition. it was exactly what you’d expect from the sole club in your town. you still managed to enjoy yourself.

you weren’t sure how long you’d been there, dancing and singing along to the songs that you actually knew. not that it mattered, you had nowhere to be and nobody waiting on you.

beomgyu could have told you. he’d been watching you for the past hour, refusing any offers to dance as he leaned back in his position on the couch. conversation fell short in front of him, and he’d been working on the same drink for as long as you’d been dancing. something about the way you moved was purely mesmerising. there was yet another side of you that he might’ve missed had he stayed cemented in his opinion of you. as your eyes landed on him, he dropped his gaze to his glass sitting on the table in front of him.

‘unbelievable,’ you sighed, and grabbed your friend’s arm in order to switch places with her. ‘beomgyu is here.’

she made a move to look past you, her eyes landing on him instantaneously. her mouth fell agape as she turned her attention back to you.

‘that’s beomgyu?’ she smirked. ‘he’s hot! why are you wasting your time whining about how annoying he is? have him!’

‘have him?’ you brought up your index finger and pretended to gag. ‘i’d rather have a shark bite off each of my limbs.’

‘god, you’re so dramatic,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘he’s literally cute, successful, and rich. and you share a bathroom with him! he’s literally right in front of you.’

‘okay, and?’ you shook your head. ‘sometimes there’s a door right in front of me, doesn’t mean i should go and bang my head against it. same experience, honestly.’

‘somebody needs another drink,’ she rolled her eyes and stepped away from you.

almost as if you could sense him coming, you spun around with your arms folded and found yourself glaring up at beomgyu. he held his hands up in defence and wordlessly slipped past you.

‘what are you doing here?’ you called out to him, making him pause and turn back to you.

‘i was having fun with my friends,’ he started. ‘but now it seems like i’m about to have my night ruined by you.’

‘that’s rich,’ you clicked your tongue. ‘is sitting there staring me down really your idea of fun?’

‘i wasn’t staring you down,’ he narrowed his eyes. ‘and what do you know about fun? aren’t you here just to forget about your feelings for yeonjun?’

‘shut up,’ you waved him off and followed in the path your friend had taken only minutes ago. ‘it has nothing to do with you. like i said, just stay out of it.’

‘you know what your issue is?’ he followed behind you, a sly smirk on his lips. ‘you bite the bait far too easily.’

‘you know what your issue is?’ you aggressively poked at his chest, taking a step toward him. ‘that little taste of fame gave you some sort of god complex, and now you think you’re above me because you played some guitar and slightly changed my sentence structure. everywhere i go, you’re waiting there ready to knock me down even when i feel like i’m on my last legs. you’re a jerk, beomgyu. a first-class asshole unable to have a little bit of respect for anyone but himself. you’re so far out of touch, and you don’t even realise it.’

‘and what are you?’ he retaliated, feeling his heart ache beneath his ribcage. ‘besides a girl so set on making me miserable? everything is just a competition to you. we wouldn’t even be having this fight if you were able to be in my presence without looking for a place to start. and i’m sorry that you gave up on your dreams to go to university, but you can’t continue to punish me for doing the opposite.’

‘just stay away from me,’

‘gladly,’

how could the day possibly go worse?

after drinking too far past your limits, you would have collapsed if not for beomgyu keeping you upright. he carried your drunken self out of the club and got the three of you into an uber. and then it was up to him to get you up the staircase and down the hall into your bedroom. recalling it all the moment you woke up, you’d thrown your pillow against the wall connected to your shared bathroom out of both anger and humiliation. your best friend groaned and begged you to shut up whilst the headache came on.

you felt as if you might die all the way over to the shower. and on the floor of the shower, because standing made you feel as if you were about to puke. and when you brushed your teeth, the mint flavour was nauseating to say the least.

but none of that mattered when you managed you bring yourself downstairs for something to eat. and there stood yeonjun, the girl from the music store, and the sound of their laughter as they bonded over the simple action of making an omelette. you turned with the intention to retreat, bumping into your friend who forcefully shoved you forward.

‘you hungry?’ yeonjun spoke, leaning back against the counter. ‘’gyu told me what happened.’

‘oh, yippee,’ you rolled your eyes. ‘i’m not hungry.’

‘she is,’ your friend interrupted, nudging you with her elbow. ‘thanks for the offer, yeonjun, but my uber is here.’

‘you’re leaving?’ you turned to face her with hurt in your expression. ‘already?’

‘i’m sorry,’ she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. ‘i’ll text you when i get back.’

‘oh, okay,’ you frowned as she pulled away.

‘it was nice meeting you all,’ she waved as she stepped towards the door out of the room and into the entrance hall. ‘and tell beomgyu thanks from me.’

she left you there, and the energy of the room seemed to drop. you cleared your throat and turned towards the seating area where taehyun was sitting and scrolling on his phone.

‘are you busy today, y/n?’ the girl spoke. you stopped in your tracks, locking eyes with taehyun who seemed to display his concern. ‘me and ‘jun are going out for dinner later. thought you might need a little bit of a pick-me-up.’

it would have rude to decline her invitation, so you went. unwillingly so. just you, her, and yeonjun for the entire day.

she remained attached to him for the entire time. she gripped onto his bicep and bounced as she spoke, a kind smile on her lips. it infuriated you, and knowing that she wasn’t intending to hurt you just infuriated you further. you didn’t want to be so angry with her or yeonjun. but he was your yeonjun, until he suddenly wasn’t. and seeing him fall for somebody else made you feel sick to your stomach.

arriving home was a blessing. if you ignored the fact that she was going to be staying over. in his room, in his bed.

beomgyu knew exactly what to expect. he pushed open your bedroom door and softly closed it behind himself. you hardly had the energy to fight with him, only lifting your gaze momentarily to check who it was coming to disturb your peace. he was fiddling with a pick between his fingers and leaning against your bedroom door. his heart ached once more when you looked up at him with sadness in your gaze.

‘i know you don’t want to see me,’ he shrugged. ‘whether it be because of the argument we had last night, or the fact that i was the one who had to deal with the state you got yourself into. but our rooms are very close, and i can’t just sit there listening to you sob by yourself.’

‘i don’t want to talk about it,’ you sniffled and dropped your legs to lay out in front of you. ‘but thanks for getting me home safe last night.’

‘we don’t have to talk about it,’ he awkwardly chewed the inside of his cheek as you continued to stare up at him.

‘you can sit down,’ you laughed shortly and patted the space beside you on the bed.

beomgyu sunk into the mattress at your side. you watched him as he fiddled with a loose thread on his jeans.

‘can i just clear some things up here?’ he avoided your eyes, but caught sight of your short nod. ‘first of all, i don’t hate you. nor do i intend to hurt you every time we bump into each other. it actually pains me to know that’s how you feel. and i don’t have a god complex, i just started giving you the same energy that you gave me, and i didn’t know how to stop.’

‘so it’s all my fault?’ you rolled your eyes.

‘will you cry again if i say that it is?’ he smiled slightly, trying to lighten the heavy air that surrounded you both.

‘you’re the worst,’ you sniffled once more and began wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie. ‘but thank you trying to explain, i guess.’

‘i’m sorry,’ he sighed. ‘sometimes i overstep, i know. i was having too much fun getting a reaction out of you. but i can see that you don’t need that right now.’

‘don’t you dare bring up yeonjun again,’ you rolled your eyes, suppressing your smile.

‘is he not the reason behind your current state?’ he pushed.

‘still not talking about it,’ you sighed, and pulled your knees back against your chest once more. ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch to you all of the time, too. i do always seem to bite.’

‘can i ask you a personal question?’ he tilted his head to the side as he looked down at you.

‘go ahead,’ you shrugged.

‘why did you move away?’ he looked over your features to make sure he hadn’t made you uncomfortable. ‘i mean, there’s a university here. i would know, i went to it.’

‘my parents wanted me to be away from the distraction of the band,’ she frowned. ‘they said i wouldn’t do well if i was too busy playing around with my guitar. so they bought a house far from here and took me with them.’

‘that sucks,’ beomgyu nodded to himself as an agreement. ‘do you still play?’

‘no,’ you huffed. ‘my guitar’s currently collecting dust in an unpacked box at my parents’ place. it’s been there since the end of my first year, when i stopped coming here so often.’

‘do you regret it?’

‘getting an education?’

‘giving up on music,’

‘i miss the people i shared that hobby with more than the hobby itself,’ you began to fiddle with the fabric of your pyjama pants. ‘this band used to be my whole world. and yeonjun was the one who told me that going to college was for the best. i was naive to think they’d wait for me to return.’

‘it wasn’t planned,’ he made sure to look into your eyes. ‘me, joining the band. i bumped into yeonjun at the reopening of the music store and we talked about guitars for a while. after a few months of friendship, we started playing together. it was all supposed to be experimental.’

‘oh, how humble,’ you laughed. ‘i like your songs. they have nothing on my own, of course, but…’

‘i actually really loved your original songs,’ he smiled, staring down at his hands. ‘i felt bad changing them, but they all told me you wouldn’t mind if it was for the sake of the band. oh how wrong they were.’

‘you guys made me look like a ghostwriter,’ you rolled your eyes. ‘i don’t even have a mention on your socials.’

‘take it up with kai,’ he held his hands out in defence, shrugging. ‘i don’t even have the passwords.’

the two of you laughed in sync, eyes locked. your laugh faded into an appreciative smile, and beomgyu bit down into his tongue before he could tell you how pretty your smile was.

beomgyu couldn’t think of anything worse to be doing with his spare time. and not because you were directly involved, but because he’d already been sitting for far too long under the fluorescent lights of the changing rooms.

you’d step out, and taehyun would go over to observe. he gave you his honest opinion and the two of you discussed each of the dresses in heavy detail. meanwhile, beomgyu sat scrolling on his phone. occasionally, taehyun would snap at him to pay attention. and then minutes later, he would go straight back to staring aimlessly at the screen in a doom-scroll.

he was halfway to announcing his need to grab a drink due to the hot weather, when you stepped out in this dark blue dress that had him stumbling over his words before he could even speak them. his gaze darted back down to the floor as he cleared his throat, but you didn’t miss the look in his eyes. you felt your cheeks burn as you smoothed down the fabric and turned to face taehyun.

he began his rant of how this dress was the right one, as your attention shifted to the boy staring hard at his phone.

beomgyu looked so attractive in that moment. his legs spread out as an armrest for his forearms, the phone between his hands and his head dipped forward. but not too forward, as his features were still visible. the sleeves of his light grey hoodie had been rolled up, and his brown hair was attractively messy. with the recent events that had occurred, you began to wonder if he found you attractive. he’d stared you down enough times over the past week to suggest it.

and you wondered if you found him attractive in return.

you smiled to yourself as you nodded in agreement with taehyun, deciding that you’d finally found a dress for graduation. whether it had been for beomgyu’s gaze or taehyun gushing about how perfect it was didn’t matter.

sitting back against your headboard, you tossed your phone down onto the bed and dropped your head into the hands. a deep sigh left your lips as images of beomgyu clouded your thoughts.

following the purchase of your dress, the three of you grabbed a soft pretzel and a refreshing soda before walking aimlessly around the mall. at every joke cracked by taehyun, you found yourself holding back a laugh in favour of hearing beomgyu’s deep chuckle. your eyes seemed to block out the third-wheel standing between you, expression curious as you looked over beomgyu’s figure over and over again.

his hair was falling perfectly over his forehead, and his black headphones wrapped around his neck were the ideal contrast to his light hoodie. every time he ran his fingers through his brown hair, you felt yourself growing giddy.

all of a sudden, you were crushing on beomgyu.

maybe it was due to the passionate nature of your relationship, or maybe it was due to the softness in his gaze you only recently had the pleasure of experiencing. whatever it was, your friend had been right in her words. you lived mere metres away from him, your bedrooms connected by a singular bathroom. he played the guitar, sang, and was a talented composer. not to mention he was attractive, and there was no denying it. and his attentions remained solely on you. there was nobody else.

well, nobody other than yeonjun, but that was a hopeless feat.

time had already been wasted. you weren’t sure of the future, and you had wasted the perfect opportunity of beomgyu and his closeness. you groaned as you fell back against your bed.

you buried your face into your pillow and screamed into its material, willing the plaguing thoughts of beomgyu to disappear. but they wouldn’t, and a part of you didn’t want them to. a part of you wanted to steep in the feeling of a fresh crush, smiling to yourself as you thought of his voice and his smile and his hair and the fact that he was only metres away from you at all times.

but then you remembered that you were supposed to hate him. he got on your nerves, he overstepped, he spoke in a way that intended to knock you down a few pegs.

but the look in his eyes as you stepped out in that dress…

you pulled yourself up out of bed, feeling a headache coming on from all of the conflicting thoughts. your hand clutched the side of your head as you pulled open your bedroom door and headed down the corridor. the lights were off downstairs, it being late by now, except for the dimmed lights left on in the kitchen as they always were.

as you pulled open the fridge, you jumped at the sound of someone placing a glass down beside you.

‘sorry,’ beomgyu laughed shortly. ‘i thought you knew i was down here.’

‘evidently not,’ you grabbed a water bottle and closed the fridge softly. ‘what are you doing still up?’

‘i’m always up late,’ he shrugged, leaning back against the counter. ‘my schedule is messed up. the downside of not having a real job. why are you up?’

‘headache,’ you frowned. ‘i’ve got a lot on my mind.’

‘like what?’ he tilted his head in question, feeling bold. maybe it was the outfit you were wearing, being a t-shirt and some bed shorts he struggled to keep his eyes off. ‘your mind’s far too pretty to be full of worries.’

‘are you flirting with me?’ you raised a brow.

‘depends,’ he shrugged nonchalantly. ‘do you want me to flirt with you?’

‘uh…’ you avoided his burning gaze. ‘are you feeling okay? you didn’t hit your head on a cabinet or anything, did you?’

‘is that your way of flirting?’ he narrowed his eyes. ‘at least you think i’m tall.’

‘you’re acting weird,’ your response only received a shrug.

‘am i acting weird or are you oblivious?’

‘oblivious to what?’

‘nevermind,’ he pushed up away from the counter and began to walk away. ‘goodnight, y/n.’

‘you’re leaving?’ you set down the still unopened bottle of water and felt your expression drop with disappointment.

‘yeah, you’re not playing along,’ he sighed. ‘you’re no fun.’

‘i am fun,’ you shot back. ‘you just… caught me off guard.’

‘why?’ he raised a brow. ‘because you didn’t realise there’s other aspects of my personality besides being a jerk.’

‘because i wasn’t expecting you to be so bold,’ you rolled your eyes. ‘but hey, at least you admitted to being a jerk. self-awareness sure is sexy.’

‘oh so you think i’m sexy?’ he teased, leaning his head against the archway.

‘i think you need to go lie down,’ you narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

‘will you lie down with me?’ a smirk broke out across his features.

‘oh, as if,’ you scoffed. ‘i’m going to bed now.’

you stepped past beomgyu, turning your head back to see his gaze was indeed following after you. as you headed for your room, you tried to shake off the thoughts and the conversation you just shared. it was like you were in some sort of alternate reality all of a sudden, one where there hadn’t been weeks of mutual dislike passed between the two of you.

a sigh left your lips as you closed the door behind yourself. the headache remained, perhaps even stronger now.

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kiwriteswords · 2 months ago

Text

Tonight, you're on my mind, so you'll never know...

Chapter One Out of Four (Possibly Five!)

Masterlist || Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 8k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical themes, sexual themes, hurt/comfort, angst, pining, mutual pining, spoilers for Criminal Minds seasons 1-12, friends to lovers, first-time, loss of virginity, grief, trauma, timeline of 8 year old!Hotch---Post CM!Hotch--please let me know if I am missing anything!

Sypnosis: Years have passed since you and Aaron Hotchner first crossed paths, but the connection you shared has never truly faded. In the wake of personal loss and career demands, your lives have taken different directions, leaving unresolved feelings and unspoken words lingering in the background. As fate pulls you back into each other’s orbit, you must navigate the delicate balance between duty, grief, and the possibility of rekindling something you thought was lost forever. In a world of danger, distance, and emotional walls, will you and Aaron finally confront the past—or let it slip away once more?

Aaron Hotchner was eight years old when he first met you. You were the new kid in Mrs. Parker’s third-grade class, standing nervously at the front of the room with your backpack clutched tight to your shoulders. From his desk in the middle of the room, Aaron gave you a small, encouraging smile, and something in your anxious expression softened.

As the weeks went by, Aaron made it his mission to make sure you felt welcomed. He was always the one to offer a smile, a joke, or a helping hand when you needed it. He'd pass you notes during math class, full of silly drawings or clever ways to remember formulas, making you laugh when you felt like you didn’t belong. You and Aaron became inseparable, spending recess huddled together, planning your next science project, or making up games on the playground.

When the science fair rolled around, there was no question who your partner would be. You and Aaron stayed up late at each other’s houses, surrounded by cardboard volcanoes and school supplies, arguing playfully over who got to make the 'lava' erupt. Those late nights were filled with whispered secrets and quiet giggles that only the two of you understood.

But just as life seemed to settle into a pattern, everything changed. Aaron’s parents decided he needed a different kind of education—a stricter environment to hone his potential. He was being sent to boarding school, far away from your small town and the life you both knew. The news hit like a punch to the gut, the kind that left you breathless and aching.

On his last day of school, you both sat on the swings, silent, the words you wanted to say trapped in your throat. Aaron finally turned to you, a sad smile on his face, and handed you a small note—his handwriting neat and careful as always. You opened it to see the words, "I’ll come back someday. Don’t forget me."

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "I won’t," you promised, squeezing his hand one last time before he let go. You watched him walk away, carrying that promise with him.

Time passed, and life carried you both in different directions. Aaron went off to boarding school and then to college while you buried yourself in your studies, eventually finding your passion for medicine.

Aaron hadn’t crossed your mind in years—not in the way he used to, back when every recess felt like a lifetime you spent together. Time had a way of making memories feel softer like they belonged to someone else.

You heard bits and pieces about Aaron over the years, mainly through the grapevine. You knew he was still with Haley Brooks, the sweet girl who lived a block away from where he used to live. It seemed inevitable that they would end up together; she was the familiar face, the constant in his life when everything else kept changing.

It was a complete surprise when you walked into the library on your first day at college and saw him. Aaron Hotchner, sitting at a table with law books piled high, his face buried in a notebook, scribbling furiously.

He looked different—older, more serious—but when he glanced up and saw you, his entire expression softened in that way it always had when he looked at you.

“Aaron?” you called out, tentative, like you weren’t sure if he would remember you.

His eyes went wide, and then his lips curved into that same slow smile you remembered from so many years ago. "I can’t believe it’s you," he said, standing up, his voice tinged with both disbelief and a quiet joy.

You two fell into step as though no time had passed, and soon, one cup of coffee turned into hours of catching up, late-night study sessions, and long walks across campus. You'd spend those evenings beneath the soft glow of street lamps, talking about everything and nothing, like you were making up for all the years you'd lost.

One night, during a quiet moment on a bench outside the library, Aaron turned to you, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder that made your heart skip a beat.

“You know, I never thought I’d see you again,” he said softly, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “I thought that part of my life was over, and then you just… walked back in.”

You gave him a small, shy smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze settle over you.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again either,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “But I’m glad I did. It feels like fate, almost.”

He reached for your hand, hesitating for just a second before his fingers laced through yours.

“I don’t think I realized how much I missed this—how much I missed you,” he admitted, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand. “You always had this way of making everything feel... right. Even when everything else is falling apart.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands, feeling like you were standing on the edge of something that could change everything. “You know,” you said, your eyes flicking up to meet his, “you’re different with me, Aaron. Softer, somehow. Like you’re letting me see the side of you that no one else gets to see.”

He smiled at that, a slow, tender smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “That’s because, with you, I don’t have to pretend,” he said quietly. “With you, I can just be... me.”

You knew why that was. You knew about his family, the chaos he rarely spoke of but never seemed to escape. His father’s harsh words, the impossible expectations, and the way Aaron had been forced to grow up too fast. He’d always been the parentified child—the one who had to hold it all together when everything around him was crumbling.

With you, he didn’t have to be that. He didn’t have to be the protector, the caretaker, the one who was always in control. With you, he could just breathe.

Slowly, those study sessions turned into something more. There were late-night conversations that turned into soft laughter, the kind that echoed in the quiet hallways of the library when everyone else had gone home.

Aaron started to lean closer, his arm brushing against yours, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on your lips. And then, one night, he finally closed the distance.

It was a gentle kiss, innocent and tentative, as if he was afraid to break the fragile moment you’d both created. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you again,” he whispered, his voice filled with that same vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. “I just... didn’t know if I was allowed to.”

You laughed softly, your fingers still tangled in his. “You’re definitely allowed to,” you said, your voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that, too.”

Aaron looked at you then with an expression that you’d never seen on him before—like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face, like he couldn’t believe you were real. He cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly. “You make everything feel a little less... heavy.”

It was a warm evening, the kind where the world felt impossibly still, as if time itself had slowed just for the two of you. Aaron had walked you back to your dorm, his hand loosely clasped around yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to rush—that this moment was yours, untouched by the outside world.

He kissed you again, the same gentle, tentative way he had the first time, his lips brushing against yours like a secret only you two were allowed to share. But tonight was different. There was an unspoken sense that something more was waiting—something both of you wanted, but neither of you was certain how to name.

In the dim light of your room, surrounded by the stillness of night, Aaron’s hands found yours. He held them carefully, as if they were made of something delicate. There was a nervousness in the air, but it was the kind that comes when something sacred is about to be shared—when the weight of the moment is felt by both people, heavy with meaning and laced with the vulnerability of first love.

You were both so young, still discovering the world and yourselves, yet in that moment, everything felt beautifully simple. He kissed you again, this time with more confidence but no less care. His touch was light, and reverent, as though he wanted to be sure every movement was one you welcomed.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady, your heart racing beneath your skin. There was no shame in the confession, just honesty, the kind you knew you could share with him because Aaron made you feel safe, like there was nothing you couldn’t say.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand.

“Neither have I,” he admitted, his voice low, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t heard from him before. His eyes, normally so guarded, were open—vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache with affection.

He kissed you again, slow and deliberate, and this time, it felt like you were crossing a threshold together, one you both understood was important. There was no rush, no urgency—just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet wonder of the moment. His hands traced the outline of your skin with a gentle reverence, as if he was trying to memorize every curve, every inch, not for possession, but for the deep respect he held for you.

When the time came, it wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It felt natural, like an unspoken promise made long before this night. Aaron moved with the same care he’d shown you in every other moment—thoughtful, kind, attuned to you in a way that made you feel like he was giving you all of him, not just physically, but in every sense.

There was no awkwardness, no fear—just warmth and quiet intimacy. Every touch, every soft sigh between you felt like a conversation, like a love letter written in the language of gentle movements and shared breath. It was the kind of first time you always hoped it would be—filled with tenderness and respect, with Aaron looking at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real, as if he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to share this moment with you.

When it was over, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held you close, your bodies tangled together, his forehead resting against yours, his breath soft against your skin. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the kind of peace that comes from knowing you’d just shared something sacred.

“I’m glad it was you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with a quiet certainty that made your heart swell.

You smiled, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. “Me too,” you replied, and at that moment, you knew—no matter where life took you, this night would always be something you carried with you. Not because it was perfect, but because it was real.

But even in those moments, when it felt like it was just the two of you against the world, you could see the shadows that lingered in his eyes.

Traces of Haley, the girl who had once been his entire world, the love he wasn’t sure he could ever let go of. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well. You saw the flicker of doubt, the unresolved feelings that haunted him.

One evening, as you both sat on the steps of the library, your fingers still intertwined, you knew you couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. You turned to him, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Aaron,” you said gently, your voice tinged with a sadness you couldn’t quite hide, “I need to know that you’re sure about this—about us.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at you, confusion and fear flickering across his face.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

You forced a smile, trying to be brave even as your heart felt like it was breaking. “I know you’re here,” you said, squeezing his hand. “But I also know that part of you is still with her—with Haley. And I don’t think I can keep doing this if you’re not completely sure.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you gently placed a finger against his lips, stopping him.

“You deserve clarity, Aaron,” you said softly. “And I deserve someone who’s all in—someone who isn’t torn between two loves.”

His eyes filled with something that looked like pain, like he knew you were right but didn’t want to admit it. He reached up to hold your face in his hands, his touch trembling slightly.

He sat silently for a moment, his fingers brushing over yours in a quiet, subtle gesture. There was no outpouring of emotion—only the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. His gaze dropped to the ground, jaw tightening slightly as if he were battling something deep inside.

“I’m not good at this,” he said quietly, voice low and measured. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady but guarded, the calmness in his tone hiding the storm within. “I never have been.”

You held your breath, waiting. He didn’t pull you closer, didn’t let his voice betray the depth of whatever he was feeling. Instead, he allowed a small, rare vulnerability to slip through, in the only way Aaron Hotchner ever would.

“I made choices,” he continued, his voice carrying a quiet resignation. “And I’ll always stand by them.”

There was a pause, heavy with the years of unspoken history. His eyes softened, but his words were deliberate, cautious, as though each one had been carefully chosen before he spoke.

“But there are moments,” he admitted, barely above a whisper, “when I think about the path I didn’t take.”

The confession was understated—so much so that you almost missed it. But the weight of it was unmistakable. He didn’t need to elaborate. In his world, actions and silence often spoke louder than words.

You felt the familiar ache settle in your chest, knowing how difficult it was for him to even hint at such a thing. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, nor was he asking for anything at all. This was Aaron’s way of telling you the truth, as much as he ever could, without unraveling the layers of control he’d spent a lifetime building.

“I’m not losing you,” you said softly, echoing his restraint. “I just need you to be sure.”

Hotch gave the smallest nod, his fingers brushing yours one last time before he let his hand fall away. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to convince you otherwise. It wasn’t in his nature to ask for what he thought he couldn’t have.

“Take care of yourself,” he said quietly, the walls slowly coming back up. And then, without another word, he stood, leaving behind only the lingering sense of something left unsaid.

Time flew by, but it also remained very still.

Aaron sat at his dorm desk, the bright glow of the bulky computer monitor reflected back at him. His finger hovered over the “send” button on an email he had drafted to you—an apology, a confession, something to explain why he had been distant these past few weeks. But the words felt hollow, weighed down by a decision he wasn’t even sure he had made yet.

The memory of late nights with you, laughing and sharing secrets, tugged at his mind, but it was Haley’s voice he heard on the phone, her quiet concern as she asked when he’d be home for the weekend.

He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. The truth was, he didn’t know how to do this—how to love two people at once, how to give pieces of himself when all he ever knew was how to give everything.

With you, things were easy, and natural, but Haley was his anchor. She had been with him through every transition, every change, and she made sense in a way that was rooted in the stability he so desperately needed. She was safe, familiar. And in the midst of law school deadlines and the ever-present pressure of his father’s expectations, safety was all he could cling to.

In the end, it wasn’t just about Haley. It was about the life he was building—one with clear lines and fewer unknowns.

The future with her was already mapped out, and his career was beginning to demand more of him. With each step he took toward becoming the man everyone expected him to be, the further you seemed to slip away, like a path he couldn’t walk anymore.

So, he stayed with Haley, not because the choice was easy, but because it was necessary.

As the years passed, you poured yourself into your medical career, using the long hours and the intensity of trauma surgery to distract from the parts of your life that felt unfinished. The grueling schedule left little time for anything else, and that was just the way you preferred it.

Each day in the hospital was a whirlwind of emergencies—broken bones, life-threatening injuries, and critical surgeries that demanded your full attention.

The moments of quiet reflection, where Aaron’s face would drift into your thoughts, were few and fleeting, quickly swallowed by the next crisis.

Your dedication earned you respect among your colleagues, promotions you hadn’t even sought, but with every success, there was a growing realization that you had built this life to keep yourself too busy to remember the one you left behind.

There was a fire lit under you, one that the long hours and, at-times, gruesome themes of your day seemed to fuel. There was an intensity in your line of work, one that you knew if Aaron was still a part of your life, would understand and want to soak up every aspect of each detail.

You would occasionally bump into each other over the years—at alumni events, around town, or at the rare social gathering you both happened to attend. The encounters were always polite, your smiles a little too tight, the conversations clipped and guarded.

You both kept it surface-level, never daring to dig deeper into what you truly wanted to say. You’d ask how each other’s studies were going and exchange updates about life, but never once did you talk about what had happened between you, about the unspoken feelings that still seemed to linger in the air. Haley often would be by his side, you could tell she was supportive of his dreams and choices.

The hardest moment was one evening at a crowded bar, the air buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. You were there with friends, trying to unwind after a long week, when you saw Aaron walk in.

For a split second, your heart leapt at the sight of him—until you noticed Haley by his side, her arm looped casually through his, her smile bright and untroubled. The sight of them together was like a punch to the gut, a sharp reminder of the choice you’d made to let him go.

What ached even more was the glint of matching gold bands on each of their ring fingers. It felt… final. The kind of final that left no room for second chances or what-ifs. You couldn’t help but think about the moments you’d shared with Aaron—the late-night conversations, the way he used to look at you like you were his safe harbor in the storm of his messy life. And now, here he was, seemingly settled, with someone else wearing the title you’d never been brave enough to claim.

Before you could make a quiet escape, they spotted you. Aaron’s eyes met yours across the room, widening slightly in surprise, and then he offered you that familiar smile—a smile that was polite and practiced but carried a hint of something you couldn’t quite read. Regret, maybe. Or a sadness that neither of you would ever speak aloud.

“Y/N, it’s so great to see you!” Haley said warmly, her voice genuine and open. She didn’t know, of course—didn’t know about the brief, intense history you’d shared with Aaron, didn’t know how much seeing them together was breaking your heart all over again.

You exchanged pleasantries, smiling and nodding at the right moments, trying to keep your composure even as your insides twisted into knots. Aaron’s smile was there, polite and distant, but in his eyes, you saw something different—a flicker of the past, a glimpse of the man who had once held your hand like he was afraid to let go. He looked like he wanted to say something, like there were words caught on the edge of his tongue that he couldn’t let fall in front of Haley.

Haley, ever the gracious host of the moment, excused herself to grab their drinks from the bar, leaving you alone with Aaron for a brief, excruciating moment. The noise of the bar seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this small, fragile bubble of shared history.

Aaron’s gaze held yours for a second longer than it should have, his expression softening as if he were letting his guard down, if only for a heartbeat. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he hesitated, his jaw tensing slightly. It was as if every word he wanted to say had gotten tangled in the space between his heart and his voice.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper. There was a distance in his tone, but also a trace of something he couldn’t quite hide—something raw, something aching. “You look… happy.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“You too, Aaron,” you said, your voice faltering just a little. “You and Haley… you look perfect together.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to protest, to say something real, something that wasn’t covered in layers of politeness. But instead, he just stood there, looking at you with eyes that seemed to carry the weight of everything left unspoken.

Haley returned with their drinks, her presence snapping Aaron back to the moment. He turned to her, his expression shifting instantly to something softer, more familiar—a version of himself that you hadn’t seen in a long time. As they walked away, laughing at something she said, you felt the sharp pang of regret settle deep in your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder—did you make a mistake all those years ago? Letting him go when you still had so much left to say?

Later that evening, in the quiet of their home, Haley turned to Aaron as they got ready for bed. Her smile from earlier had faded slightly, replaced by a hint of uncertainty that she tried to mask with a casual tone.

"She’s really beautiful, you know," Haley said, her voice light but carrying an edge that Aaron didn’t miss. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze fixed on him as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Aaron paused, his movements slowing as he met Haley’s eyes. “Who?” he asked, though he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Y/N,” Haley said, her voice a touch sharper now. “You two seemed close tonight. It was... almost like I was interrupting something.”

He let out a small sigh, more to himself than to her, and sat down next to her, his hands resting on his knees. "Haley," he started gently, “it’s not like that anymore. We’re just old friends.”

Haley turned to face him, her expression a mix of vulnerability and something else—fear, maybe, or insecurity.

“Old friends?” she repeated, her voice barely masking the doubt. “Aaron, the way she looked at you—it didn’t seem like just ‘old friends.’ And I know you, Aaron. I know when you’re holding back.”

Aaron didn’t answer right away. He looked down at his hands, the silence between them heavy and complicated. He’d thought about this moment before wondered what it would be like to confront these feelings.

“We had a past,” he admitted quietly, finally looking back at Haley. “She was important to me, and part of me never really let that go. But I chose you, Haley. I always chose you.”

Haley’s eyes softened for a moment, but there was still a flicker of pain in them, a hint of doubt that wouldn’t quite fade. “I always felt like I was competing with her, even when she wasn’t there,” Haley said, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. “Like you were with me because it was easy and safe, but with her... with her, it would’ve been something else.”

Aaron didn’t deny it; he couldn’t. He reached out and took her hand, holding it firmly.

“You were never second best to me, Haley,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “But back then, I wished—part of me wished she’d fought harder. I might have chosen differently if she’d asked me to. If she’d really asked me to stay,” Aaron paused, “But it never would have worked…it would have been a rash--impractical choice.”

Haley looked at him, a mixture of relief and hurt crossing her features, her grip tightening on his hand, like she was afraid to let go.

And in that moment, Aaron knew that while he had chosen Haley, a part of him would always be haunted by the path he didn’t take, the one where you had asked him to choose you. And he would always wonder if you were the love that got away.

Years later, you found yourself deep into your medical internship, pulling grueling shifts at the hospital that left you bone-tired but determined.

The last thing you expected was to cross paths with Aaron Hotchner again, especially on a day as monumental as the birth of his child.

You were on your way to check on another patient when you noticed a familiar figure pacing outside one of the maternity rooms. It was Aaron, but not as you remembered him.

He looked different—older, more tired, but also lit up from within like he was holding the entire universe in his hands. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his tie was loosened around his neck, but there was a brightness in his eyes that you hadn't seen in years.

He stopped short when he saw you, his face a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something softer—like he was relieved to see a familiar face in the chaos of the moment.

"Y/N?" he said, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were standing there.

“Aaron,” you said, offering him a gentle smile.

The last time you’d seen him was under such different circumstances, and now here he was, a thousand emotions flickering across his face.

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours as if he needed to anchor himself to something real.

“Haley just had the baby,” he said, his voice filled with awe and a hint of disbelief, as though he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. "It's a boy. His name's Jack."

Your heart softened at the mention of Jack, imagining Aaron as a father, this new role that seemed to suit him so perfectly. You knew how much he’d always wanted a family, how much he valued loyalty and protection, and now he had both those things wrapped up in this tiny new life.

A genuine smile spread across your face despite the tightness in your chest. “Congratulations, Aaron,” you said, your voice warm and sincere. “How’s Haley? How’s Jack?”

“They’re both perfect,” he said, but even as he said the words, you could see the turmoil beneath the surface—the way his mind was racing, already thinking of everything he needed to do to be the best husband and father he could be. He was still Aaron, always planning ahead, always trying to protect those he loved.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. For a split second, you worried he might pull away, but instead, he let out a shaky breath and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

His grip was firm, like he needed this moment of connection as much as you did, like he was drawing strength from the familiarity of your embrace.

“You’re going to be a great dad, Aaron,” you whispered softly against his shoulder. “Jack’s so lucky to have you.”

He held you for a moment longer, and you felt the way his shoulders relaxed, just a bit, as if the weight of the world on them had lightened for a second.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go immediately. His hands lingered on your arms, his eyes locked onto yours, and there was something in his gaze that made your breath catch—a mix of gratitude, vulnerability, and something unspoken that neither of you dared to voice.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at you like he was memorizing the moment, like he didn’t want to forget the way it felt to have you close again.

You gave him a small, sad smile as he finally let his hands drop, the connection between you two still lingering in the air. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed, like you were the only two people in the world standing in that hospital corridor.

“I need to get back to them,” he said, his tone shifting instantly to the steady, composed one you were so familiar with. “Haley and Jack are waiting.”

The moment was gone, and his focus had returned to where it always was—his family. Even as you offered him a small smile, knowing that this was the man he had become, you could see that his world revolved around something far more important than any lingering emotions between you two.

He gave you a nod, something unspoken passing between you—an acknowledgment of the past, but nothing that could shift the priorities of the present. Without another word, he turned and left, his strides purposeful as he made his way back to his family, to the life he had chosen to protect above all else.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he slipped back into his role—the one that mattered most. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t a man to be distracted, not when it came to the people who depended on him the most.

As you stood in that empty corridor, you tried to tell yourself that letting him go all those years ago had been the right choice—that he was exactly where he needed to be, with the family he’d always dreamed of. But even as you reminded yourself of that, you couldn’t shake the feeling of bittersweet longing, the ache of knowing that sometimes, the right choices still hurt the most.

A few days later, after yet another long shift at the hospital, you found yourself alone in the on-call room, your mind still buzzing with the image of Aaron holding his newborn son. The way he looked at you, the way his touch lingered—it all played on a loop in your head, refusing to let you rest.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you powered on your computer and began typing. You weren’t sure what you hoped to accomplish by reaching out to him, but the words poured out of you as if they’d been waiting all this time.

To: [email protected] Subject: It Was Good to See You

Hi Aaron,

I know it's been a while since we last spoke, but seeing you at the hospital the other day brought back a lot of memories. I just wanted to say that I'm so happy for you and Haley. Jack is lucky to have you as his dad—I always knew you’d be incredible at that.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say here, or why I’m even writing this, to be honest. Maybe it’s just that seeing you again reminded me of a time when things were simpler, or maybe I just wanted to reach out because I didn’t get the chance to say everything I wanted to that day.

I know our lives took us in different directions, and I’m glad you’ve found so much joy with your family. But I guess a part of me will always wonder what might have been if things had turned out differently.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well, and that fatherhood is everything you hoped it would be. I won’t keep you, I just—well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m really glad we crossed paths again, even for a moment.

Take care, Aaron.

Best, Y/N

You hesitated for a long moment, staring at the words you’d typed, debating whether to hit send. There was a part of you that was terrified of what this email might mean—how it might complicate things, reopen old wounds that had never fully healed. But there was another part of you, the part that had seen that familiar look in Aaron's eyes at the hospital, that knew you couldn’t keep silent any longer.

With a deep breath and a leap of faith, you clicked "send" before you could second-guess yourself. As the email disappeared from your screen, you felt a strange mix of relief and vulnerability wash over you, like you’d just opened a door you weren’t sure you were ready to walk through.

You didn’t know how Aaron would react when he saw your name in his inbox, or if he’d even reply at all. But you knew that at that moment, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You had to reach out, even if it was just to say that you hadn’t forgotten, that you never really let go.

What you didn’t know was that when Aaron read your message later that night, sitting alone in his dimly lit office, the weight of your words hit him harder than he expected. He read each line with a mix of longing and regret, feeling the past rush back to him in a way that made his chest tighten.

He wanted to respond, to tell you that seeing you again had stirred up all the emotions he’d buried for the sake of moving forward. But he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, because he wasn’t sure he could say what he really felt—not when his life was still so complicated, still so tied to the promises he’d made to Haley and Jack.

There was a part of him that completely shamed himself for even wanting to keep the door open with you. It was not if he was still waiting by the open entryway, but something was comforting knowing it was ajar.

But he knew one thing for certain: seeing you at the hospital that day had made him realize that some doors never really close. And no matter how far life pulled you both apart, there was always a part of him that would find its way back to you.

And so he saved your email, tucked it away in the corner of his heart where he kept all the things he wasn’t ready to face. But he kept it, just like he kept that old photo of you two on his bookshelf at the BAU—a reminder of the love that never really went away.

And though he didn’t reply, he knew, deep down, that one day he would. He had to.

Because this time, he didn’t want to let you go.

Time passed and you’d finally established yourself as a respected doctor, life had taken you far from the familiar places where you and Aaron once crossed paths.

You were working at a renowned hospital across the country, building your career in a place far from the echoes of your shared past. You'd settled into this new life, convincing yourself that the memories of Aaron Hotchner were just that—memories locked away in a chapter you’d closed long ago.

But late at night, when the world was quiet, and you found yourself alone with a few too many glasses of wine, the memories would come rushing back.

You’d think about Aaron—about the way he used to smile at you, the warmth of his touch, the late-night conversations that felt like they could change everything. You’d wonder where he was and what he was doing if he ever thought of you the way you still thought of him--why he never answered your email.

In those moments, you couldn’t help but feel like the universe had let something slip through your fingers, like you’d lost a piece of yourself you could never entirely replace.

It had only been a few months since his divorce was finalized, but Aaron Hotchner’s mind wasn’t just on the past he’d left behind with Haley. It was on you—the email you’d sent, the memories that kept resurfacing late at night when the world went quiet.

One evening, after hours at the BAU, Hotch found himself in Garcia’s tech-filled lair. She looked up, surprised to see him, especially at that hour.

“Sir?” she asked, her cheerful tone softening as she picked up on his serious demeanor.

He hesitated, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of her desk. “Garcia... could you look someone up for me?”

Garcia blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Of course. Just name the person.”

"Y/N L/N," he said quietly, the name falling softly from his lips. “We went to college together. I’m just... curious where she is now.”

Garcia’s hands hovered over the keyboard, her usual enthusiasm tempered by the weight of his request. She could tell from his tone that this wasn’t a casual inquiry. “Got it, sir,” she said, quickly typing the name into her system. “What do you want to know?”

“Just... how she’s doing.” His voice was quieter than usual, laced with an undercurrent that hinted at more than mere curiosity.

A few moments passed as Garcia sifted through information, her screens flashing with data. After a beat, she spoke, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “Looks like she’s doing really well, actually. She’s a doctor now. Trauma surgeon. She’s worked at some big hospitals.”

Hotch’s eyes flickered, something tightening in his chest. You were no longer close by--off across the country, living a completely separate life. One he was fully realizing he knew nothing about.

Garcia continued, sensing the weight of her words. “No social networking accounts, but a few mentions in medical journals and hospital reports. Seems like she’s been doing some important work. Looks like she’s running the show over there.”

Hotch nodded, trying to process the flood of information. A part of him felt a strange sense of pride at how far you’d come, but there was also a quiet ache—a reminder of how much time had passed, how much you’d both changed.

Garcia glanced up, watching him closely. “I could dig deeper if you want,” she offered gently, unsure if she should ask more.

“No,” Hotch said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s enough. Thank you, Garcia.”

As he turned to leave, Garcia watched him, biting back the questions swirling in her mind. She’d never seen Hotch so affected by a simple request. Whatever history the two of you shared, it was clear it still lingered in the quiet corners of his life.

“Sir,” she called after him, her voice softer than usual. “If you ever need to talk about it... you know where to find me.”

Hotch gave her a small nod, acknowledging her kindness but not yet ready to let his guard down. “Thanks, Garcia.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of you from his mind. You were close—closer than he’d ever imagined—and yet, the years between you felt like a chasm he wasn’t sure how to cross.

It was a cold, rainy afternoon when he walked into your life again. You were deep into your rounds when you saw him standing at the end of the hall—tall, composed, his FBI badge clipped to his belt and his expression sharp with focus.

He looked different now—older, more world-weary, with a gravity about him that spoke of everything he’d seen, everything he’d endured. He’d been through a divorce; you knew that much. You'd heard whispers about it through mutual acquaintances, the news traveling back to you like a ghost from the past.

He was there to interview one of your patients, a victim in a high-stakes investigation, the kind of case that left a wake of devastation.

You watched as he spoke to his team, his words calm and precise, every movement controlled. But then his gaze shifted, and when his eyes met yours, something in his expression softened.

For a moment, it was like you were back in college again—two people who once knew every secret of each other’s hearts.

“Y/N,” he said, the sound of your name on his lips pulling you out of the haze of memory. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, relief, and a warmth that chased away the storm clouds that seemed to follow him everywhere.

“Aaron,” you replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “What brings you to this side of the country?”

He let out a small, almost rueful laugh, a sound you hadn’t heard in years. “Work, as always,” he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. “Seems like it never stops.”

You nodded, searching his face for traces of the man you used to know. “You look... different,” you said softly. “Older. Tired, maybe. But it suits you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That’s not exactly a compliment, but I’ll take it,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with the faintest hint of mischief. Then, more seriously, he added, “You, on the other hand, look exactly the same. Like time hasn't touched you at all.”

A small laugh escaped your lips, and for a second, the years seemed to fall away.

“You always were a terrible liar,” you said, shaking your head slightly, but there was a softness in your voice that hinted at something more—something neither of you was quite ready to name.

There was a moment of silence between you, the kind that was heavy with words left unsaid. He looked like he wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between the person he was now and the person he used to be when he was with you. But then, just like always, duty called, and he had to turn back to the demands of the case.

When the investigation finally wrapped up, you found yourself alone in the break room, the hum of the vending machine the only sound in the otherwise quiet space. You were reaching for a cup of coffee when you saw it—Aaron’s business card tucked carefully under your mug.

His number was scribbled on the back in neat handwriting, with a simple note: Call me sometime if you want to catch up. –Aaron

You stared at the card for a long time, tracing the letters of his name with your fingertips, the feel of the paper grounding you in a reality you hadn’t quite expected. Your mind was a whirl of memories—of late-night study sessions, of the way his hand felt when it held yours, of every stolen glance and every smile that hinted at something just out of reach.

You felt a pang in your chest, a longing you’d tried to bury long ago but was now resurfacing with a vengeance. You knew that if you called him, it wouldn’t just be about catching up. It would be about opening doors that you thought you’d closed for good. It would be about facing the fact that, even after all these years and all the distance between you, some part of you had never really let him go.

As you slipped the card into your pocket, you felt a mix of hope and fear, like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that if you jumped, there’d be no going back. You looked down at the number, knowing that one call could change everything, that this could be the start of something or the end of whatever you’d been holding onto all these years.

Before you could overthink it, the door to the break room opened, and Aaron walked in, his eyes locking onto yours like he was searching for something—some kind of answer.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” he said quietly, his voice low and intimate in the small space. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving your face. “I meant it, you know. About calling me.”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “You think about the past often?” you asked, your voice gentle but with an edge of vulnerability you couldn’t quite hide.

He looked at you, the kind of look that seemed to strip away all the years, all the distance between you. “More than I probably should,” he admitted, his voice a little rough around the edges. “I think about you more than I should.” His words were simple, but the intensity behind them was anything but.

You felt your breath hitch, your pulse quickening at the confession. The yearning in his eyes was unmistakable, a mirror of your own feelings that you’d been too afraid to voice. And in that moment, you both knew that this wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning of something that had always been waiting for the right moment to come to life.

It was now, when the world was so chatoic for Aaron--Haley and Jack in protective custody and a killer out there tormenting his every move, he could use an anchor like you. He meant every word he said. He wanted you to call. He couldn’t share this information with you, but he hoped this card was the olive branch…the white flag waving for where he couldn’t place words.

Before he turned to leave, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Take care, Y/N,” he said softly, and the way he said it felt like a promise, like he was telling you that this wasn’t goodbye, not really.

You watched him walk away, and this time, you felt different. This time, you knew you held his number in your pocket, the promise of a future that might finally align with the pieces of your past.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #kiwriteswords #tonightyoureonmymind

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randombush3 · 8 months ago

Text

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 8 months ago

Note

I sincerely hope I’m sending this request correctly. I wanna ask for a pokemon request where reader has a full Unown team with the Paldea crew reaction(Arven, nemona, penny) and maybe the blueberry academy crew reaction. I love unowns they’re my funky little letter guys. Basically the reader is an Unown enthusiast who only ever has unowns and only ever used Unowns. They have all the forms but the six they use are just the ones they took with them to Paldea. They went through Paldea and became champion with a full Unown team. Same with the bb league. I just think it’d be funny to see everyone’s reactions to that. Their partner mon would be Unown O and the other five you could pick cuz Unown O is my favorite letter. And also if u could write the unowns being affectionate with the reader and vice versa. I just like seeing trainers bonding with their pokemon. Thank you and I enjoy your writing!

(Side note: Honestly if ScarVio was able to have unowns in it you’d bet your ass I’d do a full Unown run. I’ve done it for other games. Was disappointed and sad I couldn’t have any unowns in them, sword/shield too.)

I LOVE the Unowns omg. I got a plushie of V and I'm still trying to get shinies and alphas in PLA

My favorite is F because it looks like a little stick figure but I adore all of them very much <3

.......

General

Ever since discovering the Unown in Johto (Ruins of Alpha) and the two additional forms in Kanto (Tanoby Chambers), you found your calling as a trainer.

An Unown trainer, to be precise.

Unown O was the first one you caught, and has been your battle partner ever since!

You've become something of an enthusiast, asking researchers what they've discovered and documenting the Symbol Pokemon as you collected them.

You've caught so many that you actually encountered a shiny or two--each capture being a success.

Their existence, connection to Arceus, home dimension, and "secret power" when more than one are gathered were all fascinating to you and made you wanna learn more.

You even incorporated some of their designs into your outfit: like gloves and socks that had symbols printed on them, keychains and charms on your jewelry and/or backpack..etc.

All 28 Unown grew to love you, and the ones in your party are super affectionate when you bring them out.

Their favorite game is hide n' seek (taking after their "ancestors" from PLA) around your home, and you like to play along.

Ofc people are wary around Unown given their mysterious nature, but you vow to break that stigma by feeding them treats and letting them nuzzle up to you, showing others that they're just like any other Pokémon: companions who deserved as much love and affection as a Pikachu.

After parting ways with your friends in Kanto and Johto, you don't leave without gifting them an Unown that was the first letter in their name (for Blue you left him a Shiny Unown B...which he still brags about to this day).

You decided to move to Paldea to take your Pokémon training more seriously, attending school and showing off your Unown since they're not native to the region.

Your team consisted of O, as well as N, E, F, R, and M--referring to what all 28 are collectively called (One Form).

Despite knowing they can only use Hidden Power and nothing else (plus the drawbacks from having a psychic-only team), you defied all the odds when you took on not one but TWO championships and won.

And of course, the friends you've made during your journey all got to know the Unown personally.

Paldea

Arven

At first, he thought your Unown team had more to it...until he realized that was ALL you brought to the battlefield.

Just funky letters that only knew one move.

"Oh come on, you're never gonna win with a team like that-"

And then you go and beat him with a team like that, and it shuts him up.

But Arven just rolls his eyes to the sky, making the excuse that he's not used to battling, and moves on.

As you get closer to him, though, and help him take down the Titan Pokémon around Paldea, he warms up to your team and admits they're kinda cool.

He'll only shoo them away if he's making a sandwich, not wanting to be crowded (but tbh he can tolerate Unown O's presence more than your 'raidon's).

You presented him with picks inspired by the designs of some Unown (I, K, T, Y, and !) to hold the ingredients together, and he's thoroughly impressed by your dedication to the craft.

You joked about selling them if you ever went into the art of culinary--yet Arven tells you to seriously consider it.

After the fight with the AI Professor in Area Zero, he sees your entire team pop out of their pokeballs, clearly stressed from being locked inside due to the Paradise Protection Protocol.

You never did a battle without them and were afraid they couldn't protect you, but you reassured them you were okay, letting them stay out during the journey home.

Only then does he realize that sure, they're weird little guys that don't seem all-that powerful, but you treasure them all the same.

Nemona

While she was confused about you not using the Paldea starter the Director offered you..she's HYPED when your real team comes out to play during your first match together: One made entirely of Unown, a Pokémon not even native to Paldea.

She may have read about them in some textbook unrelated to battling and glossed over them.

But to see them in battle left her extremely impressed and asking you dozens of questions afterwards.

They could just change their type when attacking??? She read about Arceus supposedly having that power, but it's awesome that these little letters/symbols can, too!

Despite thinking you'll bore her by having no strategy except "use hidden power", Nemona NEVER wants you to feel discouraged!

She wants to battle your team every time.

As you fight your way through the Pokémon League and all the way up to the Elite Four, she's rooting for you 100%, praising your Unown for overcoming even the toughest terastalized foes.

Knowing your party members, they LOVE praise and are very friendly towards her and her own Pokémon.

If any of them have timid/lonely natures..her words give them a big confidence boost.

And it reflects in their reaction times and how often they'll heal their own status conditions or tank OH-KO hits.

She says you're helping them get stronger every day, but you give her lots of credit, too, for helping you get this far.

Penny

While dealing with Team Star, Giacomo's dark team put your Unown through a world of hurt...

Penny had been watching the battle, worried that he was going to be the reason you failed to squander the organization.

Yet by some miracle, your team came out on top!

Only then does she realize you were more than capable of taking down all the bases.

Unown P comes out to greet her while you've doing an LP exchange, and it scared her pretty badly.

Especially as it just...stares. Occasionally blinking once or twice as she tries talking to you.

Conversations are hard enough for her already, and staring doesn't help matters, so she gets ready to leave-

But then its tune changes when you pat it on the head(?) and it trills happily, snuggling up to you.

Penny had to do a double-take, wondering how it managed to look so cute..but she dismisses your concerns when you asked why she made that face.

Later, after revealing she's the leader and becoming your friend thereafter...she still gets anxious around the Unown from time-to-time, but eventually warms up to their presence.

You don't treat them any differently despite their mysterious nature.

If anything, you care for them just like anyone would a cute Eevee: by spoiling them with love, treats, and sweet words of encouragement.

Penny felt like a hypocrite for being scared of them, considering people used to be scared of Team Star--yet they aren't as evil as everyone made them out to be.

They used to be lonely and misunderstood, just like the Unown were before you found them.

BB Academy

Kieran

When you showed off your team for the first time, Kieran was stunned.. remembering the things he read about them but didn't know they could actually be caught.

All he says when you show him Unown K is "wowzers".

And the journal entries you've logged turned his eyes into stars.

You show him all the photographs of ruins and Unown blending in during your trips to the signboards, rambling about what you've seen and discovered.

He loves listening to your tales..and wishes he could see those places with you.

But what he didn't like, however, was whenever you two had a battle in which your Unown only needed one command to win. You didn't have to try at all.

Even with his team's most supereffective attacks..speed and dumb luck were on your side, crushing his confidence and making him jealous.

It doesn't help when you still decided to keep Ogerpon despite you saying you only ever used Unown.

It wasn't fair.

And ofc by Indigo Disk, Kieran wants nothing more than to destroy your team, insulting them under his breath when he thinks you can't hear him.

You just scowl and cover their nonexistent-ears while they nuzzle up to you--although deep down, you knew he didn't mean those words.

He's just pissed off that he lost sleep and his appetite over training his team, giving them the best moves and items to utilize on the battlefield..only for you to sweep the BB League with a simple command.

He managed to OH-KO one Unown with Incineroar's Darkest Lariat..and that sinister grin you saw on his face was most unnerving.

But you still claimed victory over him and he takes the loss hard.

Down in Area Zero, he's convinced that the "Hidden Treasure" Terapagos can take down your "Hidden Power" team..

But after seeing them form a shield (similar to the crystal one in the Spell of Unown movie) that protects him when the legendary goes rogue..it changed his perspective.

Only then he understood why they were so powerful.

As the Unovian Pokedex said: Alone, nothing happens..but together, Unown are strong and invoke a great power.

When the dust settles, O floats into Kieran's hands, healing the pain in his wrist caused by Terapagos breaking the masterball.

He felt so so guilty for the name-calling and his desires to hurt them. Yet they've all forgiven him.

In a way, Unown remind you of him: small and unassuming, at first glance..but full of great power that's waiting to shine.

During Mochi Mayhem, K stays by his side while he holds off the possessed townspeople and you capture Pecharunt, growing quite attached to him.

And after coming back to the academy, you decide to trade him that Unown, hoping he incorporates it into one of his teams. Be it casual or competitive.

Carmine

Back in Kitakami, she laughed at your "puny"-looking letter Pokémon, thinking them to be weak as she sics Poochyena and Polteageist on them.

While their dark/ghost moves hit the Unown hard, it's Unown O who takes them down with critical hits..and Carmine got LIVID.

She impressed you're sticking with a team that appeared in ancient texts, although that doesn't dissuade her from teasing you about them for a while.

Ngl you nerding out over Unown facts and studies you've recorded reminds her of Kieran infodumping about Ogerpon.

Your Unown just glare at her, and you gotta call them back to your side before they try attacking her outside a battle.

However as time goes on and she warms up to you, meets Ogerpon, etc..she grows to like them more, too.

Eventually she's cheering them on as they take down the Loyal Three and tank their poison attacks.

By Indigo Disk's events, she comes around to genuinely smile at their presence.

Although she had concerns Kieran's new team would be too overwhelming for them...

Yet your team of hieroglyphics won anyways.

And down in Area Zero's underdepths, they invoked a great power to shield the siblings from Terapagos' attacks, protecting the two people who once hated and mocked them with all they had.

As they both break down in tears, some Unown come out of their pokeballs to comfort them, and O stays on your shoulder as you exit the cavern together.

A few photobomb the selfie you take with the twins back at the academy (as well as Kitakami's festival), but it's alright.

Carmine will allow it because you treasured them and they DID save her and her brother's skin.

Drayton

While you did struggle during his trial (due to his "Terarium Pokemon-only" rule), the actual battle caught him by surprise when your Unown swept the floor, taking down his dragons.

How Unown F was able to withstand an Electro Shot was beyond him, but it was sturdy enough to finish the fight with a Fairy-based Hidden Power.

After winning, you both take a selfie in commemoration, with you passing F to Drayton like "can we get an F in the chat" and him humbly accepting it.

It was all in good fun, and looking back on it in your scrapbook made you laugh.

But what you didn't feel good about was him rubbing your victory in Kieran's face after you win the championship, further shattering the kid who nearly keeled over trying to make the perfect team to beat you..only for some "letters" to kick him down into the dirt.

"Wow, that's tough..now are you gonna take the F or L, ex-champ?"

He forgot this kid doesn't understand much internet lingo, but Unown F and Unown L didn't appreciate his jokes, and neither did you.

But after the events in Area Zero, you let it go, eventually deciding to trade him Unown D as your way of thanking him for helping you get close enough to knock sense back into Kieran.

Crispin

Let's face it, he's gonna be staring at your Unown like a Magikarp out of water and ask how they eat..

Or if they eat at all for that matter.

Their eyes just blink and poof, their share of the meal is already gone.

He knows they're psychic Pokémon, but still...

His favorite ones are definitely C (bc of his name) and S (for Spicy), though he's eager to see how your team fairs in battle when you clear his trial.

You warn him it might be "boring" but he acts like you insulted his cooking and begs you not to say that again.

"Every Pokémon battle gets me fired up!!!!! Don't downplay yourself!!!"

Even when your Unown easily douse his Pokémon's flames with Water-based Hidden Power (and Fire for his Exeggcutor), he still had a blast battling you, realizing those little letters are full of vigor and surprises!

He's eager to see what supereffective type they're gonna use next.

When you eventually decide to trade, you contemplate giving him an extra Unown F you had..or a C.

But you settle for the latter, and Crispin promises to feed the little guy well!

Lacey

Unown are small, simple, and make trilling noises...all checking off her criteria of "cute" Pokémon!

Although knowing they're connected to Arceus--the literal god of all 'mons--is an unnerving fact, she agrees that they're adorable and deserve to be treated as such.

She gets to learn your team's different natures, and likes how you're trying to convince people that they're not as scary as the old legends present them.

They love nuzzling up to you, resting on your shoulder and/or head, twirling around, and playing with the local Minior.

That being said..Lacey gets shocked at the punch they pack during battle, with them using Poison or Steel-based Hidden Power to take down her fairies.

It's always the most unsuspecting Pokémon who are the most powerful.

Even if you worry about the battle being boring since all you can give out is one command, she's gonna turn your pessimistic thinking around!

Unown F is her favorite since it's looks like a stick figure, but Unown L is also pretty neat..yet she wonders why Unown ? and Unown ! look tired all the time...

When you trade her a letter/symbol, she's thrilled to welcome yet another cute Pokémon onto her team!

Amarys

Considering their affiliations with ruins and Arceus, the existence of Unown have always piqued her interest.

And you so-happened to be a walking encyclopedia of anything related to the Symbol Pokémon, given the journals you've written on their mannerisms.

Amarys likes reading them over, and thinks a quiz involving the Unown Alphabet would be good to have at BB Academy.

On the other hand, after your battle to climb the League rankings, she wonders if you've ever used other Pokémon..only to find out that you never did.

All you know are Unowns.

She won't force you to change your team members, seeing as they were able to beat ALL of the league members--including Kieran.

But she suggests you had one Unown use Hidden Power on its battle partner, who could hold onto a Weakness Policy.

Yet you're adamant, saying "why would I want one Unown to hurt the other just for a temporary attack boost? :((("

Your team members are besties, your cuddle buddies..how could you do that to them???

Amarys is genuinely touched by how much you care for your Unowns, and vice versa.

Speaking of which, Unown A started hanging around her more often..and she cautiously tries to pet it, surprised by its happy trills, but otherwise acts nonchalant.

When you both decide to trade, you give her that Unown and she promises to look after it.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

The Dollhouse 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as fear, coercion, violence, noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Five girls move into a shared residence for the upcoming school year but not all is as it seems.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Captain Syverson, Steve Abnesti, Lloyd Hansen, and Peter Parker

This fic features five named readers; Ann, Lulu, Polly, Barbie, and Molly. This chapter features Ann and Lulu. Please note that characters may switch but will maintain second-person POV.

Note: I know I shouldn't but I say that every time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all until you can’t stand it. Take care. 💖

Finally, you’re going to college but it can’t be a smooth transition. No, there’s always a hurdle in the road. You have your acceptance and your tuition scraped together, and there’s only one box left unticked; housing.

It’s as if the ad was meant for you. ‘Book your room now. Single rooms available for campus students.’

Maybe people are right when they say your devices are listening to you. Still, you can’t exactly pass up the opportunity. All summer you searched yet just like the rest of your life, you’re running behind.

The response is so quick, you almost can’t believe it’s real. It isn’t, not yet. It’s just an offer of a walk-through. You’ve done a dozen of those at least and each time, the room went to someone else. But you have to try. You can’t just give up, not after everything you’ve gone through to get here.

Better late than never. That could be your motto. You should get it inscribed in Latin on something. Maybe a jacket? Are letterman’s out of style?

You head out for the noon-hour meeting with the building manager. The posting said it was a new development. Hopefully, that means you don’t have to deal with anyone elses' leftover grime. Not that you’re picky. You’ve lived in worse.

You let Marla know you’re heading out. Your mom’s friend will be even more ecstatic if you get this one. Neither of you expected you to be crashing for so long. It’s getting a bit crowded with her own kids still under the same roof.

You catch the downtown route and get the connection just before it drives off. The building is slightly off-campus. You don’t mind. You're a bit too old to be kept awake by the frat house ragers. The reminder sparks another swell of insecurity.

High school feels distant and you feel a bit pathetic running to catch up from behind. You’ll be older than most of the freshmen, even those who took a gap year. At least you’re doing it. Yeah, that’s something. An achievement is still that even if it’s not on the same schedule as everyone else.

You miss your stop and curse yourself. It’s only a block away from where you need to be but you’re getting close to twelve as you spot the same building from the ad.

It’s a nice place. Modern and sleek. You wonder why anyone would convert it to student housing. Financially, it’s likely a windfall yet students do have a way of ruining a good thing.

As you come up the walk, the curtain flutters in one of the windows. The boxy building isn’t quite as big as the on-campus dorms. That’s another relief. Not having to deal with the crush of students.

The more you think about it, the more this seems like the perfect opportunity. You don’t want to get your hopes up. You know better.

The door opens before you can reach it. You falter as a lithe man breezes through and grins in your direction. His blond hair pales in the sunlight and his blue eyes twinkle. He’s at least a decade, maybe two, older than you but he’s not aged poorly.

“Ah, you must be Ann,” he extends his arm in a formal greeting, “Jonathan, we emailed.”

“Oh, yes,” you shake his hand and show your teeth sheepishly. “Sorry if I’m late.”

“Right on time,” he lets go and checks his watch. “I thought we could have our tour and then get to the usual questions. You understand, we have a strict screening process for residents. We can never be too careful.”

He turns and strides back to the door and opens it, waiting for you as he steps to the side. You approach as he beckons within.

“It is as much about out safety as those we choose to live here. We have seen the recent scandals at the college and what with the world the way it is. He tuts as you precede him through the door. His accent soothes your bubbling nerves.

The entry way is tidy and neat. There’s a shelf of cubbies for shoes and a rack opposite with at least a dozen hooks for jackets and the like. You kick the dirt on your soles onto the mat.

“You may leave your shoes on for the tour. We will have the house cleaned prior to move-in day. Of course, once you and your flat mates are in-house, it will be up to you to determine house rules.” He points you ahead. “Of course, if you choose to stay with us.”

“Right, er, yeah, makes sense.”

“Is this your first year?” He asks. His overly cordial manner helps ease you.

“Mhmm, um, finally. I had to delay it a bit but happy to finally be going to school,” you explain.

“Never too late to do something new,” he remarks. He gestures into the front room.

“We’ve two common rooms, seeing as there will be six residents. We would like you to have all the amenities as a typical building. You see, this is a pilot program. We’ve a government grant for development of student housing.”

You nod. You don’t really care about the money behind it but you appreciate his explanation. You’d rather know more than you need to.

“A sitting area; television, sofas, perfect for a movie night, should you choose to spend a night in.” He lets you look around as he keeps to the wall and waits, “in the next,” he leads you on, “some games. Table tennis. A table should you wish to partake in any other sort of gaming.”

The place is nice. Everything is brand new and shiny. There’s a shelf of board games by the sleek black table with chairs. The ping pong table has four paddles and there’s a basket of balls on a wall shelf. It’s all arranged so perfectly.

You carry on into the kitchen. It’s huge. You marvel at the pale blue and black aesthetic, accented in silver and crystal. It’s immaculate. A bit much for college kids.

“Uh,” you turn to him and twiddle your fingers, “did I read the rent correctly? I don’t know if I can afford this.”

“Yes, two-hundred plus utilities. As I’ve said, we get a supplement from the government for housing students.”

“Oh, sure, makes sense,” you sway and look around again.

“There are a few things to go over, do let me know if you have any questions as we go,” he stands back as you tentatively explore without touching anything. “We’ve continuous security in place. You may see any of our staff on the grounds throughout your day. You will of course be acquainted on move-in. And we have on-site maintenance.”

You nod as you listen and he takes you back around to the entryway and shows you the bedrooms on the other side of the house, only two down there, four upstairs according to him. He allows you even to peek into the bathroom behind the staircase.

“Now, before I go through the typical questions, there is one condition I might confirm before wasting your time,” he says. “It was in the application but I do like to double-check these things. You are comfortable with co-ed residence? A mix of boys, girls, and all?”

“Yeah, sure,” you smile.

It’s not ideal. You’ve never really lived with men but you can make it work.

“Splendid, well, how about we go and see the verandah? It is a sunny day and I hate to miss the sunlight, especially as autumn approaches so quickly.”

“Oh, okay,” you agree and reroute as he directs you with an open hand. “This place is really nice.”

“Thank you. I’ve overseen the design myself so I will happily accept that praise,” he chuckles as he trails after you. “Oh, you’ve not even seen the garden.”

As if the flight wasn’t enough, you’re met with an endless wait in line to have your visa and documents checked before you can leave the airport. Even after all that, you’re far from settled.

You pull out your notebook as the signs bring you down to the underground station. It’s neat that there’s a whole set of tracks right underneath the airport. Everything about this new place is so astounding but scary...

You check your scribbles and stop at the wall map to confirm the information. Your platform is a little further down. You better hurry!

You drag your bag behind you as you scurry down the scuzzy concrete, your carry-on bouncing on your shoulder. It won’t be long, you just need to get to the town centre and go from there. You can’t wait to see your room.

You hope the real thing lives up to the pictures. The man on the video chat seemed honest. He was friendly. Jonathan... or maybe Jaime. Oh! You shouldn’t forget.

You're out of breath as you reach the train door. It's like it's waiting for you as once you board, the compartment door shuts. You find a seat and keep your suitcase stuffed in front of you. It's already cramped without the luggage.

You keep an eye on the digital banner near the exit. You won't miss your stop. When it comes, you're the first up and waiting to get off.

Outside, you're swept up in vertigo. The distance between you and home finally catches up to you. You're really there. All on your own.

You're shaky as you take out your notebook and your phone. You just need to go around the corner... every twist and turn is written down. From the airport to the station to your residence.

Your bag rolls and rattles as you go down the next street. You recognise the house from the pictures. The lawns are vibrant and green and the front gate adds a homey touch.

You stop just outside and scroll through your emails. Jonathan said to call when you got there as he'd have the key for you. You find his number and tap it, your phone popping open the call screen. You wait, there's no answer. Hmmm.

The sudden roar of a motor and blast of air startles you. You look over the hedges at the man with a leaf blower. He clears the trimmings of the finely-groomed bushes. As you glance over, he spots you and shuts off the gadget.

You smile, tight-lipped and teetering, as he approaches. It's not Jonathan. This man is much the opposite, burly, bald, and bearded.

"Can I help ya?" He asks in a drawl.

"Oh, sorry," you giggle nervously "I must look like a mouse in a swimming pool. I'm looking for Jonathan Pine."

He tilts his head slightly, a squint as he seems to chew on his thoughts.

"He's 'round. I can get him for ya. Can I get who's askin'?"

"Oh, Lulu. I'm supposed to be moving in, sir," you push your shoulders up as another uneasy trill crawls from your throat.

"Ah, you best come on in," he goes to the gate and unlatches it, "here." As you near, he reaches out and grabs the handle of your rolling bag, "you come far?"

You let him drag the overpacked suitcase. Your shoulders are killing you. You follow him down the paved walk.

"Yes, I flew in. From overseas," you answer.

"Shoulda known. You sound like him."

You laugh again. Your accent is not as refined as Jonathan's but certainly is nothing close to the local one either.

"Name's Sy, I fix this place up and all. Do the garden, unclog the sink," you stops at the door and sets your bag to stand on it's own. "I'll get Jon for ya."

You nod and he disappears through the front door. You sway as you peer around. The place is amazing. The facade is just as gleaming as the advert and the gardens are lovely. You've always liked oak trees and you're sure the leaves will be a beautiful shade of copper once the seasons change.

The door opens again and startles you back to the present. You look up as Sy dips his chin in your direction and keeps the door open. A familiar face emerges and a tiny bit of pressure lifts off your chest. You're definitely in the right place.

"A pleasure to finally meet in person," Jonathan offers his hand. You shake it and a giggle crackles in your throat, the habit harder to suppress as your stress mounts. "I am glad that you made it and I trust you had a safe journey?"

"Oh, yes, sir, yes," you answer, "thanks."

"Sy," he glances at the other man who promptly retreats.

"Well then, please, let us get you set. You are the first to arrive. Of course, there is no trouble accommodating you early given the circumstances. Such a far way to travel. You must be terribly tired."

"Oh, a little, but excited too." You go to grab your suitcase but he's much quicker.

He directs you in first and follows as he rolls your bag with him.

"I've put you upstairs but if the first floor is preferable, we can rearrange," he explains.

"Upstairs is fine!" You squeak in a tone higher than your usual tenor.

"Ah, I recall my first time abroad myself, it was surely nerve-racking. Don't be shy, eh, it does help to have someone who understands the plight, hm?"

"Thank you, sir. Yes, it's... it's all so new."

"Mm, you needn't call me sir, Jonathan is fine enough," he insists as you begin up the stairs. "Perhaps you won't feel so out of place once the others come."

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