#I’d literally feel the same if she called me like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aemondsbabe · 1 year ago

Text

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟

“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

“Do you?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.

“You.” It comes out as a breath.

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”

“None?”

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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nerdy-novelist017 · 6 months ago

Note

i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!

Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!

Word Count- 2k+

Summary- See request above.

Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club.

Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door.

“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking.

“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”

“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”

Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.

“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation.

“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”

You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you?

But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.

******

Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore.

You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent.

Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you.

You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence.

“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.

Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”

He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.”

You shrugged. “Not much happened.”

“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”

You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”

He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”

“What were they saying?”

You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look.

He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me,” he was quick to say.

“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.

Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”

“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”

“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.

“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”

“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.

“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.”

“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you.

Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times.

He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!”

He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.

His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”

You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twisteduniverse5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @charmingballoon @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @jaiuneamesolitaiire @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms

#Benny loves a yapper #opposites attract #the bikeriders #benny cross #benny cross x reader #austin butler #benny x bunny #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #fluff #imagine #austin butler fandom #little bunny #requests

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monzabee · 10 months ago

Text

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!!

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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sensitivegoblin · 2 years ago

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Vent

#lol #I’m moving into my sister’s basement and now she wants to bring the dog #the same dog that torments me every day and literally makes me wanna kill myself #so yay :)#she didn’t buy a mattress so I’m telling her I’m not moving in #i can’t deal with her n her BF bitching ontop of the dog continuing my nightmare #fuck #and she’s all like ‘you’re not being considerate for someone doing everything to help you’#fine don’t fucking help me I’d rather be dead anyway #I’m actually gonna kill myself I’m not even gonna bother telling her I’m not moving in #i can’t go through life anymore every time there’s something good it’s followed by so much bad #she just called me rude and inconsiderate because of the fucking dog #SHES the inconsiderate one #so you can have your TWO babies while I’m forever reminded mines gone????#I’m so pissed and I can’t even say anything to her #cus no one will have my back #since I’m the stupid worthless useless one no one cares if my feelings are valid #i literally wanna cry and I can’t #like seriously it’s not fair #she’s gonna make me take care of this dog I hate while I have no one #fuck fuck fuck #why did she have to do this #I’m constantly 24/7 thinking of her and I TOLD HER NOT TO MOVE ME IN #‘youre being so inconsiderate and rude rn’#stfu I’m not your boyfriend don’t talk to me like I care #she doesn’t get it #she says his crying is ‘talking’#but I fucking can’t take it #i cannot believe she just said that to me #like fuck dude

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sinofwriting · 11 months ago

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Every Kiss Begins With Tabs - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,544 Summary: Max and her have a tradition that was born from their first kiss. Note(s): The idea for this fic popped into my head one night, didn’t know what driver to do with it, and then quickly realized Max is the only option with him driving for a literal energy drink company. Also, this features Max and Charles being best friends, because your honor, I love them. (and features a bit of Ferrari bashing, because of course)

Masterlist | Support Me!

At the end of their first date, Max had watched as she shyly reached into her purse, fishing for something, before pressing a small thing into his hand and instinctively he held it. He didn’t even get a second to figure out what it was, since she kissed him as soon as it was pressed into his hand. It was small, barely a second, just a peck. But it had made him flush, staring at her with wide eyes before he murmured a quiet again.

Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth for a second, before she nodded at his hand, the one she had pressed something into. For the kiss. He remembers her mumble, making her all the more cute to him, how she was shy yet bold in the same breath.

It had been near painful to look away from her, but he forced his eyes down as he uncurled his hand and saw a generic soda tab sitting in his palm. Her words rang in his ears and memories of watching girls in school give them to boys run through his head and he’s pressing their hands together, keeping it between their palms as he kisses her.

—

Max’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he messes with the tab on his can of Red Bull. The sound of the press and his fellow drivers' voices washing over him. When it easily tears off, he pockets it, just as he’s asked a question.

“Over these last few months, you’ve been a lot happier. Many people thought it was you winning races making you so happy, but with Singapore happening, that has been disproven. Is there something other than winning that makes you so happy?” Max’s eyes darted over to his press officer, personal questions were on the no list for after races. She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and he has to resist letting his brows press together. She clearly didn’t think this was personal and in nature he supposes it wasn’t, but it was leading. Raising the microphone to his lips, he speaks. “Well, I think I’d have a very boring, shit life if the only thing that made me happy was winning.” The reporter coughs, “Of course. But nothing new in your life?” “Not that I can think of.” There’s a frown on the reporter's face, but they don’t ask anything else, and the session is called to a close.

“I fucking hate reporters.” Max murmurs as he walks out the room. Charles snorts, hearing him and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I couldn’t tell.” “Haha. Was a good race for you today, though.” “I feel like I need a fucking bodyguard. I’ve been getting threats like crazy.” Max winces, having seen some for himself and also knowing from experience how bad they could get. “Ferrari hasn’t hired any for you?” He scoffs, “No, too much faith, I suppose.” “Stick close, come to Red Bull’s hotel with me, I’ve got an extra room and security.” “Ooh.” Charles teases, poking at his side as they exit the building. “Look at the golden boy with his security.” Max rolls his eyes, but feigns away as he reaches out again. “Are you coming or not?” He scoffs again. “Of course. I’m too pretty to be killed.” It’s Max’s turn to scoff, “You're something, alright.” he mutters.

Entering Red Bull’s garage with Charles would feel weird if it weren't for the fact that for nearly all of this season Bradley, Christian, Tom, GP, or himself had all been sneaking the Ferrari driver in. Max knows that Christian is hoping with them allowing Charles access to their garage and helping hide him away from Ferrari that he’ll join their team, and Max isn’t too proud to say that he’s started to wish that too.

“I’ve gotta get something from Christian first.” Max murmurs when Charles makes a confused hum when they don’t immediately go to his driver’s room. “Also, might want to text something to collect your stuff.” “Andrea will get it. I just need the hotel and room number so he can send some stuff over.” “Don’t want to sleep in Red Bull branded clothes?” Charles sniffs, sticking his chin in the air, perfectly making a haughty face. “Of course not. I have fashion sense.”

—

“You want room service or something delivered from somewhere?” Charles stares at him, “Mate.” Max grins at him before returning his gaze to his phone. “Had to ask. We do have Brazil next weekend after all.” “I want all the tacos in the world right now.” “Margaritas as well?” It’s silent for a second, “why not. Just one though.” Max rolls his eyes, typing out the number ten before hitting send.

“Food has been ordered.” “Thank god. I’m starving.” “Not going to offer to pay?” Max jokes, even though he’d refuse. “God no.” He scoffs before grinning at him. “Thank you, Max, honestly.” “It’s no problem.”

“When will the food get here?” Charles asks nearly thirty minutes later as Max unlocks the door. “Already here.” He tells him, opening the door up and stepping through.

Tossing his backpack to the armchair, he doesn’t see the confused look on Charles’ face or how it grows more confused when Max fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out, a grin on his face as he stands just beside the suite's sofa.

Charles nearly stumbles when a girl appears out of nowhere, words gathering on his tongue, only for them to die before they can form when she takes whatever it is out of Max’s hand and kisses him. He knows his mouth is open, jaw dropped, as he stares at the two.

“Hello.” Max murmurs, pulling away after pressing another kiss to her lips. Her head is tilted up a bit to look at him, nose scrunching a little as she smiles. “Hi. Well done on the race.” He grins and is unable to resist kissing her again before finally separating from her, only to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his side as he turns them both to face Charles. “Charles, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” The other driver blinks at them for a few seconds before smiling. “Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” He tells her, stepping forward to greet her with a hug, giving Max a thumbs up when she easily goes along with it. Max snorts at the thumbs up.

“Congrats on your race as well, Charles. Always nice to see you on the podium.” “Oh.” He can feel his cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. “Well, it is always nice to be there, even if he is always taking the top spot.” She laughs and then she’s ushering them both to sit down at the small table nearly overflowing with food. “Oh my god.” Charles breaths, staring at it all. “It’s beautiful.” “I think you're just hungry, mate.” Max remarks and Charles notices how she passes whatever Max handed her before they kissed back to the driver before giving him a peck on the lips. “Of course, I’m hungry.” His eyes wander over all the food, all the tacos, and he knows that Andrea will be pissed at their next session when Charles tells him what he ate, but he knows he won’t regret it. Even when Andrea makes the session a triple.

“Can I ask a question?” Charles asks, after they are done eating. The twelve tacos he ate and two margaritas he had in combination with pleasant company made him feel content. “Is it a stupid one?” “Max.” She playfully scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.” “What is with the thing? The small thing you pass back and forth.” “Oh,” her eyes are a little wide and she seems to have stiffened and it has Charles' eyes widened. “You do not have to answer. I was just curious. You can of course tell me to shut up.” “No, it’s okay.” She shares a look with Max. “It’s just a habit, I don’t even really think about it anymore.”

Charles watches as she carefully extends her hand and opens it so he can stare at the thing the couple has been exchanging. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s a tab to a Red Bull can.

“Before I kissed Max for the first time, I gave him a tab from a soda can. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” His face softens at the explanation, and this whole weekend he has missed Alex, but now more than ever he wishes that she was able to come with him. “That is very sweet.” His lips then curl into a smirk and he looks at Max. “Must make sex uncomfortable though.” “You mother,” Max cuts himself off as he hits Charles with a pillow, his fellow driver howling with laughter. Hitting him with a pillow again, Max looks at her to see her laughing as well, face bright with joy and his hand is ducking into his pocket pulling out a spare tab he always keeps on him, pressing it into her hand before kissing her, ignoring the fake sounds of throwing up from Charles as he does.

@gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67

#f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #sins fics

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vinylfoxbooks · 4 months ago

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August 22 - Dare | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 860 Slightly suggestive

“Truth or dare, Reggie?” Barty asks, practically falling over his best friend with his intoxication.

“Truth.”

“Oh come on!” Evan pushes, both figuratively and literally as he shoves Regulus’ shoulder, “You’ve said dare for the past several rounds.”

Regulus, not nearly as drunk as his friends, rolls his eyes, “That’s because I know that you guys will have me do something stupid or shameful and I’d rather keep my dignity.”

“You’re just not drunk enough,” Barty pushes, “And that’s the entire point of dares. I’m gonna give you a dare.” Barty squints for a second while he’s thinking before he straightens up, “I know! I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Potter.”

Regulus sneers at the idea, “I didn’t even choose dare.”

“And my question was a courtesy,” Barty replies, “I was gonna dare you no matter what. Now do it, lover boy.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Regulus murmurs to his best friend before reluctantly standing up and watching James with a glare as they stand up themselves. One of the Gryffindor girls lead them to an empty closet near the common room and shout that they’ve got seven minutes. Regulus leans against the wall nearest to the door while James crosses to the entire other end of the closet, and it sounds like they sink down to the floor.

They don’t talk for a while, they have nothing to say, until James starts tapping his foot.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Can you stop that?” Regulus snaps, “Merlin, can’t you sit still for even a couple minutes?” “Sorry that I have fucking issues.” James sneers back, “Can’t you learn to keep your mouth shut for five fucking minutes instead of being an arse?”

“Oh, I’m the arse? And what about the way that you fucking act around me and my friends.”

“I. Don’t. Like. You.” James says, slowing down their words, “I’m nice to everyone else around me, but I don’t like you or your stupid ass boyfriends. The only reason that I put up with you is because Sirius likes you, though I don’t see why.”

“I’d rather you hate me than be all over me the way that you were Evans. I’m honestly shocked at how she ended up wanting to spend time around you in the end. You’re a fucking twat.”

“At least I have friends, oh and I can apologize and take accountability for the shit that I do.”

“Oh get off your high horse.”

“Says the person that thinks they’re better than everyone because they dress formally and do well in school.”

“I am better than you. At least I can sit still and do schoolwork on time.”

James scoffs, “I’m mentally ill, I literally can’t do that sometimes. I literally can’t stop moving sometimes, it’s called mental illness, medically. Despite that, I do just fine in school, just not in the same way as you.”

“Oh,” Regulus falters. He may be an asshole, specifically to one James Potter, but he’s not going to make fun of someone for something that they can’t help but he also didn’t know this. Nonetheless, he doesn’t back down, only changes his approach, “Doesn’t give your massive fucking ego an excuse. You think you’re so hot and that no one can touch you.”

“Oh, so you think that about me?” James asks, and it sounds like they’re standing up, “I sure don’t think that about myself, I just go about my day, as the person that I am. It’s wildly telling that you think that.”

“Please,” Regulus scoffs in an attempt to recover from the counterargument. He can feel his cheeks warming and he forces himself to believe that it’s anger -- not the fact that James is getting closer to him in a dark, enclosed space away from everyone, their voice growing more…

It’s hatred, it’s anger that makes Regulus’ cheeks hot, and James can’t see it anyway, “You’d be stupid to not realise how everyone looks at you, I’m just relaying popular word to your arrogant arse.”

James laughs cruelly before they’re standing chest to chest with Regulus and one of them is surging forward to connect their lips, but Regulus doesn’t know who it was that made the initial move.

The kiss is… intense but in the way that only two people who hate each other’s guts can be intense, fiery and constantly fighting for control of the kiss, they’re grappling at each other but with nails and digging into skin to hurt instead of to cause any form of pleasure -- although Regulus takes a minor note of the way that James groans at one particular spot that Regulus digs his nails into, purely for… blackmail.

Yeah.

The door swings open before either of them are able to pull away and Sirius is the one that’s standing just outside the closet, “I fucking knew it!” He shouts, “I knew that you two were head over heels for each other!”Regulus pulls away, cheeks flushed in a way that he can’t deny it being because of James, and shoves out of the room, but not before he hears James hiss, “We’re fucking what?” To Sirius.

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #dead gay wizards #james x regulus #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #jeggyverse microfic #microfic

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gayeddieagenda · 1 month ago

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❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them—has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

#buddie #911 fic #emoji prompt fic #buddie fic #my fic tag #this is silly goofy <3 #i'll post it on ao3 also just gimme a sec

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sweet1delusi0ns · 8 months ago

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Nicknames you call naruto boys ──☆*:・ﾟ

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋, choji🍥,gaara⏳, kankuro🪆

Bold is them~

Fem!reader

Naruto🦊-*

You mostly call him darling or handsome, but sometimes you call him foxy just to tease LOL. At first he was flustered by darling n stuff but soon got use to it, but he never expected the name “foxy” to appear farther along into your relationship

“Y/nnnn! How does my hair look?? I’m trying something new do you like?” “I think you look great foxy!” He stopped for a solid 10 seconds before responding “ah…. Heh… are you making fun of mee?” “No I’m callin you foxy cuz your a fox!” “Literally?” “No I’m calling you hot, foxy means attractive silly” Again he paused trying to understand what is happening. “SHE THINKS IM HOT!” He hopes he said that in his head

Sasuke🗡️-*

You call him literally any meaningful name he will either be like “whatever” or about to cry, just depends what you call him. You can call him babe/sweetie/honey or whatever and he wouldn’t react but he will break if you call him “baby boy” he has issues but you can fill that void for him.

“Sasuke, let’s go to bed” “I mustn’t y/n. I’m far too busy, I will be in bed in three hours. Promise” you grab his hand stopping him from walking out the door “baby boy please. I worry about you… let’s go to bed” you can feel his hand twitch in yours, he turns to meet your eyes. His face visibly softens almost to a sad expression. “Yes, darling. Ok…”

Kiba🐺-*

Love, baby, good boy and puppy. Puppy for obvious reasons, I’ve said it before when he gets tired he wants your attention 100%. he wants to cuddle and talk literally anything as long as he has your attention, and the cherry on top is when you call him puppy. Throughout the day you call him nicknames like “Kiba baby, can you hand me my bag” or “love your going to be latee!” but puppy is only for special moments

He was irritated over god knows what and all he wanted was to cuddle so that’s what he gets! “I’d be irritated too Kiba now come hereee” “thank god! I just need some private time with you..” instantly climbed into your lap to sprawl out “of course! We can cuddle all you need puppy” you can see the dumb smirk growing in his face as he giggles like an idiot while growing red

Shikamaru🀄️-*

You guys share the same nicknames with each other so you call him things like dear and sweetie. He’s very chill with nicknames but he does find them adorable especially when they come from you.

“Shika?….Shikamaru??? sweetie?… DEAR!!!?” “WHAAAAAAATTTT” “DONT SASS ME IM TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION!” “SORRY….what?” “I love you~” “god your such a pain… love you too”

Shino🪲-*

Bug boy LOL. Yes bug boy but also sweetheart mostly! He barely reacts to things you do but every now and then you can catch a little smile on his cute face~

“Sweetheart~” “yes love bug?” “Have I ever told you how cute you are?” “Ah…uhm..no you haven’t, thank you” you giggle “I can see the smile!” he quickly tucks into his shirt once he realized he has been caught

Neji🎋-*

Let’s be honest. He’s pretty. So the name must acknowledge his prettiness pretty boy! He always thought the name was silly “why not handsome boy?” “Because your pretty? I mean you are handsome but pretty boy is cuter!”

“Where you headin pretty boy?” “Out for a walk, care to join?…again with the silly name y/n?” “Sure I’ll join, and yes again with the silly name I’ll never stop until you love it!” He stopped responding just to talk to himself “little do you know I do…” he whispered

Lee🥋-*

He’s chooses the nicknames honestly. He’s just a ball of excitement when it come to your relationship. He’s on top of communication so nicknames were talked about at the beginning.

“Oooo can my nickname be honey bun!!! OH or maybe perfect, loving, amazing, handsome boyfriend!” “Well that’s to long for a pet name uhm.. how about just handsome, honey and love?” “AH PERFECT!” He reacts clapping his hands together

Choji🍥-*

You are very very special to him so you are the only one he lets call him big boy, because he knows that you NEVER mean it in a insulting way. In fact you mostly use it as a flirt~ along with sweetie or buds!

“God I could just eat you up big boy~” or “sweetie pie your lookin handsome today!” He is very anxious and insecure sometimes so you gotta make him feel like the hottest man in your eyes~ some times he just lays on your chest listening to all your praises and compliments

Gaara⏳-*

He doesn’t care what you call him he just appreciates you no matter what. But you decided rose would be perfect~ not just because his hair is red but you also find him as beautiful and perfect as a budding rose

“Rose can you hand me my water” “am…I rose?” You giggle “yes Gaara!” “Oh. Thank you y/n!” He flashes a smile “Aw I love you Gaara~” “I love you too..”

Kankuro🪆-*

He doesn’t care what you call him but he does find it a little hot if you call him a “bad boy” but that rarely ever happens, mostly it’s just darling, sexy or handsome (he likes compliments ok)

You can observe him applying his makeup so you can chime in “your a handsome one arent ya?” “I know right~” “ok bad boy, calm down with your cockiness-” “Mmmm call me that again~” “ok I’m leaving moment ruined.” He’s so annoying and cocky but we love him

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sweatervest-obsessed · 10 months ago

Text

Touch Me Baby

pairing: modern!steve harrington x modern!fem!reader

wc: 21.7k

cw: mad flirting, swearing, use of the f slur once, shattering glass, alcohol, drinking, weed, smoking, brief mentions of suicide, mentions of cheating, men being weird and implications of harassment, smut, 18+ mdni, fingering, p in v, oral (f recieving), minor praise kink, edging, teasing, multiple orgasms, wrap it before you tap it kids

a/n: set in modern times with phones and everything! i've never written anything this long before, and I really hope you guys like it!!

steve harrington masterlist

“You literally look so fucking hot oh my god.”

You rolled your eyes and checked yourself out in the mirror, smirking slightly. “I can feel you objectifying me Birdy.”

Robin rolled her eyes and collapsed on to your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I just think it’s unfair that you aren’t so emotionally and deeply in love with me.”

“Hey.” You peered over your shoulder, “I told you that I’d be your lesbian lover the second you needed one.”

She sighed and sat up on her elbows. “Yeah, but I don’t want you to do me out of pity. I want you to love me.”

You walked over and kissed her head. “ I do love you.”

“Yeah Yeah. As a friend.” She teased as you laughed and moved over to your vanity.

“Just because you’re not my type doesn't mean I don’t think you’re showstoppingly gorgeous.”

“Are you trying to get into my pants Y/l/n?” Robin teased.

“You wish Buckley.”

Robin let out the most over-dramatic sigh and collapsed on your bed again, giggling after a moment.

You laughed at her antics and checked out your makeup, your earrings, and your rings in the mirror next to your door. “Is this cute enough?”

“Did I not just say how hot—”

You and Robin had lived together for about three years now. You had become fast friends freshman year and then roommates for the last three years of your college experience. The apartment you shared was perfect because it had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and the price didn’t rise once in your entire time living in NYC. The best perk of them all was having a home phone. It was reminiscent of your childhood and you both handed out your home phone number to everyone, enjoying the messages you received from anyone and everyone.

It rang and immediately went to voicemail, as Robin had set it on vacation mode the second you moved in meaning every single phone call went directly to voicemail so you could both hear who it was. A man’s voice rang out through your shared apartment.

“Hey it’s Steve, I just landed and I’m on my way to your place, I think it’s only a twenty-minute drive but I wanted to alert the household I was on my way.”

You looked over at Robin, slightly uneasy. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting him.”

Robin shrugged and her smile was a bit brighter. Her two best friends were about to meet, and maybe even hit it off and they could be a friend group—but Robin was getting ahead of herself.

“You’re going to like him. The same level of snark, but definitely a softie under it all. And he’s my best friend, so I wouldn’t be friends with him if he sucked.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just call him your best friend in front of me and say that, I know he’s one of your best friends, which is why I’m worried. What if he thinks I’m a huge bitch or something, or like…I don’t know.”

“He’ll love you.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Well. We have twenty minutes to fix up the house so that he doesn’t think we’re complete and total slobs or anything.”

The two of you spent the next seventeen minutes unfolding your futon couch bed, frantically shoving trash in trash bins, and stuffing the dishwasher with dishes. You definitely weren’t slobs by any means, but sometimes it was easier to leave wine glasses or bottles on the coffee table, or just toss your bra onto the chair since you didn’t want to wear one anymore or…

“Which candle?”

You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the extra pillows from your room. “Does it matter?” You yelled back to Robin.

“I don’t know!”

“Well, he’s your home best friend. So whatever you think would suit the straight man you’re friends with.” You walked out and placed the two pillows on the pull-out bed.

“Okay, I’m going with Midnight Citrus because it’s my favorite and he can suck it up.”

“Whatever you say, girl….”

Both of your heads turned when you heard the knock on the door. Robin literally shrieked as she barreled towards the door and you swear you could hear Steve laugh through it.

Robin definitely knocked something over on her way over and you spent the next thirty seconds picking up the bowl and its contents from off the floor.

You had seen pictures of Steve before. There were plenty around the house of the two of them by themselves or with other friends from their hometown, so you knew Steve was an attractive man, but something about seeing him in person was a whole different beast.

And there were no pictures in the apartment to prep you for the fact that he had these thin wire-framed glasses. You could have sworn he sucked the literal breath out of you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Steve smiled that same lopsided smile you had seen on the walls and you probably would have dragged him back to your bedroom right then and there if Robin wasn’t standing right there and staring at you with the most hopeful look on her face you had seen since her breakup during sophomore year.

“It’s uh, it’s so good to finally meet you too. Heard so much about you.” You smiled at him and kept your hands awkwardly in your back pockets.

Steve nodded. “Same here. She actually doesn’t shut up about you.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“Okay, no need to be rude.” Robin huffed and haphazardly tossed Steve’s bags onto the couch.

You and Steve shared a quick look, both of you trying not to laugh.

“Ready to go Stevie boy? I know you just landed but it’s a Friday and I want to go out.”

He nodded. “I remember the text you sent me like last week as a reminder Robs. I just have to change.”

“The bathroom is the second door on the right.” You smiled at him and watched as he grabbed things.

You looked over at Robin. “Where exactly do you want to go out?”

Steve passed by you and you caught a hint of the cologne he had put on this morning. He closed the door and you had to blink a few times. “Sorry, where did you say?”

“I was thinking we could just go to the Cubbyhole…”

“Robin, we are not taking him to Cubbyhole and ruining our reputation there.”

“It’s literally not that big of a deal.”

“Babe, we are not bringing your straight man friend to a lesbian bar.”

“Fine then—”

“And definitely not Henrietta’s either.” You cut her off.

Robin crossed her arms. “ Well, then where do YOU want to take him? Because I’m not going to—”

“Girl, please. It’s like you have no faith in me. Who showed you both of those bars in the first place?”

“Fine then.”

You smiled at your victory and watched as Robin walked over to the little whiteboard you had in the hallway. Robin erased the bottom half of the words but kept the tally up top. “So where are we going tonight?”

“Are you okay with more of a just ‘sitting and drinking’ bar instead of clubbing tonight? Or at least we start at a bar and then move on to clubs?”

Robin’s face twisted, but then she conceded. “Ugh, fine.”

“Why don’t we start at Nothing Really Matters?”

“Which one is that?”

Steve popped out of the bathroom right as Robin asked that question, causing you to stutter a bit in your answer.

Steve was wearing these blue jeans that fit his thighs his ass him so well, and some clearly well-loved white Nike sneakers. But what got you was the shirt combo he was wearing. A tight black tee, covered by a short-sleeved patterned button-up, that was unbuttoned and just tight enough to fuck you up.

Plus, you were sure you saw a silver chain around his neck, which made you wonder what it would look like when if he was above you.

“I-I…um. It’s the one in.” You bit the inside of your cheek and looked back at Robin. “The one in the 50th Street subway station.”

Robin raised her eyebrow at you, but you just shook your head, deciding to ignore what just happened and barrel through.

“A bar in a subway station?”

You smiled over at Steve. “It’s not as gross as it sounds. I swear. It’s one of my favorite little spots that not a lot of people know about so there’s almost always seating and they have really good drinks there too. Besides, it’s in the station so if Robin wants to abandon us for some clubbing then the train is right there.”

He nodded and put his stuff away, while you looked back over at Robin who was making a face at you.

“What?”

She huffed and went into the kitchen.

When you just stared at her, confused, she aggressively made a small wave for you to follow her. You sighed and obliged, managing to walk directly into Steve’s chest because you weren’t paying attention.

“Shit! Sorry.” Your hands were against his chest while he had one of his hands on your waist.

“N-no it’s fine.” He gave you a sheepish smile and quickly pulled his hand off your waist, but your skin was covered in goosebumps from how close you two were.

You quickly hurried into the kitchen where Robin was impatient tapping her foot. “Seriously?”

“W-what?” you smoothed down the front of your top, trying not to look up at her.

“You know what.”

“Birdy I–”

“No, save it. I don’t want to fight. I just want to know why you’re so against going clubbing tonight when that was the original plan.”

If you were to tell Robin the truth, it would be because you weren’t sure you wouldn’t end the night with her best friend in your bed, kissing him like the world was ending, doing things that would have her kicking you out of the apartment and her life.

Or maybe it’s because you want to spend the entire night just talking to Steve and listening to his voice and learning every single thing about him. After all, you were utterly entranced.

“I just, I worked all day, and now that we’re actually going out…I don’t know if I have the energy to go all out.” This wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the full truth. You had worked twelve hours today, and even before Steve had arrived, you had been dreading going out anyway.

Robin’s face twisted a little bit. “It’s Steve's first time visiting me in the city and I wanted to show him around and show him all the places that I get to have fun.”

“And for him to have a friend for when you inevitably win the bartender’s number tonight and go back with her to her place….”

Robin’s cheeks turned bright red and she huffed again. “What–no–okay so maybe a bit but–”

“Look, babe, if you want to go to the Cubbyhole, I am more than supportive of that, it’s just that it’s not what I’m in the mood for. You could always ask Steve to go with you. Or ask him what he wants. And if he’s okay with going out, we can all start at the bar, and then we can split up based on how we are all feeling. Steve literally just got off of a plane not even an hour ago.”

The two of you agreed on a plan and walked back into the living room, where Steve had been shifting his bags around, and had his phone open.

“Are we ready?” He stood up and smiled at the both of you.

You both nodded and smiled at one another. One of you was excited to start the night. And the other was dreading what would happen when Robin inevitably left you alone with her hot best friend from home.

_________________________________________________________________________

The three of you had managed to snag one of the tables up against the wall of the bar. Steve sat on one side, and you sat on the other, with Robin between you. It was the perfect setup for everyone since Robin was in between her two favorite people on the planet, and you got to look at Steve frequently because he was in your direct line of sight.

It was most definitely the alcohol, or maybe it wasn’t, but Steve was getting more attractive by the minute.

“I’ll go get us another round!” Robin excitedly grabbed all three glasses and ran back off to the bar to get more drinks. While you were so grateful that it was going so well, you couldn’t help but Steve was feeling the same way you were.

Were you such a bad friend if you were actually excited for Robin to leave the two of you alone together?

“So how did you meet Robin?”

You blinked a few times before looking over at Steve. It was dimly lit, but you were seated next to the lamp on the wall, so he was bathed in a red glow. He must have been some sort of Greek god or something because no one can look that good in any lighting at all times.

“She didn’t tell you already?”

Steve shook his head, smiling slightly.

You bit your cheek again and smiled. “Okay so. We met in our first year here, and I wanted to beat the shit out of her, oh my god, she like, never shut up. And while I love her for it now, it was causing some strained tensions between the two of us. So we were in the same class and got partnered for a project about Women’s history, specifically, authors who we deemed as important. And so I offered up Toni Morrison, who is probably my favorite author of all time, and Miss Indiana over there told me that her books were mediocre at best and wanted to do a project about Virginia Woolf. Then I called her gay, and she freaked out. Not in the aggressive way you’re thinking, but simply because I knew she was a queer woman, and it freaked her out that someone could tell. Like only a gay woman picks Virginia Woolf.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed a little bit, and you could tell he was unsure about the path this story was taking, but you continued on.

“She ended up letting me win the argument and we put together the most beautiful slideshow on god’s green earth. I mean, seriously to this day, I think about the transitions. A good PowerPoint can make or break a class—anyway. After that, Robin didn’t speak to me for the rest of the week.”

“Which is valid because I thought she was going to fucking hate crime me since my experience with people knowing I’m gay is either Steve or getting called a fag so…” Robin placed the drinks down in front of the respective people and sat down on her stool.

“Until…” You took a sip of your drink, cutting her off so you could finish the story.”We attended the same party that Friday night at Vickie’s house—I’m assuming you know all about Vickie and the mess that was—anyway. We were at Vickie's place and I went into the kitchen where some girls were making fun of Birdy and calling her some really awful shit because she was from Cowland, and so I called them all a bunch of cunts and then defended my homegirl because women support women, especially queer women. Then she kissed me, and—she’s actually not that bad of a kisser if I’m being so honest with you—and then we’ve been best friends since.”

“I’m a phenomenal kisser, excuse you.”

You smiled and nudged her with your elbow. “Sure thing Birdie. You’re nowhere near the bottom of my list though. I think Malcolm is—remember him?”

Robin burst into laughter. Steve looked between the two of you, extremely confused by the entire situation—it was written all over his face.

“He used to—” You couldn’t breathe because of how hard you were laughing. The sentence was virtually unfinishable. “He-He would…” You tried to take a few breaths. “He would, uh, spray cologne in his mouth instead of using a mint because he thought that’s what it was for—”

You and Robin collapsed against one another, back into your fits of laughter. This had Steve cracking up, not just at the fact that this man was stupid, but because you and Robin’s laughs were contagious.

“She didn’t figure it out until the fourth date.” Robin blurts out, causing you to wipe away the tears in your eyes and shove her slightly.

“Shut UP. I only kissed him like twice before then and it was just pecks.”

You caught a glance of Steve out of the corner of your eye, and he was looking right at you. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment and the two of you stopped time for a moment. The corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up into a smile before he broke eye contact and looked back at Robin.

“Wood in the mouth takes a whole new meaning—”

“Oh please. Don’t even start with that—”

“I’m just saying your choices in partners–”

“At least I didn’t date a married woman–”

“WHAT.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Steve. “She didn’t tell you?”

Robin started hitting your arm. “No. I. did. Not!”

You laughed and used one of your hands to shove hers away from you. “It was like a three-month relationship but she realized–”

Robin shifted tactics and clamped a hand over your mouth so you couldn’t finish the sentence. After a moment she made a gagging sound and quickly pulled her hand away. “Did you just fucking lick my hand?”

You winked at her and looked back at Steve. “She knew this woman’s wife too. A month into dating Robs found out. Rough semester.”

“Oh my god. Robin. Who are you? What else have you done that I don’t know about?”

“That’s it. If you’re going to tell him all of my wrongdoings, I’m out.” Robin downed her drink and stood up. She kissed your cheek and grabbed her purse off of the chair she was sitting on.

“Remember to wear protection there kid.”

She rolled her eyes at you and turned towards Steve. “I know I—”

“Robs, seriously, it’s okay. Go have fun. I have been traveling all day. And I don’t mind talking to Y/n—”

“Unlike someone here, I’m not going to abandon you, Steve, don’t worry.”

Steve’s hand rested over his heart. “You’re too kind.”

Robin scoffed but was smiling the whole time. “Don’t wait up. Mom, Dad, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, she left you and Steve sitting in the bar.

“So Steve, what else do you want to know about our girl??”

The two of you spent the next three hours sitting at the bar, ordering drink after drink. Eventually, you and Steve were knee to knee, your head on his shoulder when you laughed too hard, trading stories about Robin. Nice didn’t even begin to describe the way his cologne smells when you would rest your head on his shoulder, giggling about something he said. Or the way his hand felt when it rested on your thigh as the two of you talked and talked and talked.

Or when the two of you couldn’t stop giggling on the subway as you told him about the time Robin threw up on someone on the subway after you both had been drinking all day during last year’s Saint Patrick’s Day.

Or when you stumbled slightly on the street, clinging to Steve as he clung to you. Enjoying the sound of his voice as he whispered things into your ear.

Or as your back was up against the wall next to your door, you watched Steve’s hands use the key and unlock your door, except both of you forgot the fact that the bolt was also locked, meaning Steve slammed his face right into the door since it wasn’t moving. You clamped your hand over your mouth, dying of laughter, watching as Steve tried not to laugh at the door himself, instead smiling brightly at you, with his head against the door.

Or when you both stood in the hallway of your apartment, neither one of you wanting the night to end, toeing the line. Eyes pretending they weren’t staring at lips. Hands fluttering around, almost grabbing one another. An inch away from more than just friends.

______________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you awoke to an empty apartment and a text from Robin saying that the two of them decided to “hit the town”.

You took your time. Decidedly talking yourself out of everything that had happened last night, especially when Robin had left you and Steve alone. It was dumb of you to even think about potentially betraying Robin’s trust like that. She didn’t bring Steve here to add him to your collection of failed lovers—and even if she did, you had a sinking feeling that Robin would choose Steve.

It’s not to say that she didn’t love you, adore you, and wish nothing but the best for you, but you wish to never even put her in that position.

So instead, you decided to take your mind off of everything by spending the afternoon in one of your favorite little hole-in-the-wall coffee shops that was only a few minutes walk away from your place.

You had managed to snag your favorite seat: a comfortable chair next to the window, and a plug. The plug was the best part since it meant you rarely had to get up and could just charge your devices without having to leave the spot you were in for potentially hours. And today was one of those days. The collection of mugs on the table grew as the hours of the day went on. By the time hour four had rolled around, there were about five mugs and two plates.

That’s when the world did that thing again, when it decided to start ruining your day. First, your laptop was overheating more than usual, which was just plain irritating. Then, they had run out of the panini you were going to get for lunch. The final straw, however, was when one of your exes came waltzing up to the table.

“Y/n, it’s been so long. How are ya?”

You tried not to let a full resting bitch face take over, but to any observer, you were not happy to see the man in front of you. “Malcolm. Hey. I’m good.”

“I’m doing great too. Mind if I sit? I just can’t believe I ran into you here.”

Your breath hitched and that little voice in your head screamed panic!

“Um—actually, well, I come here all the time and you know that…Second, this seat's taken.”

“Well I’ve been here for about five minutes now and no one has taken that seat–”

“You’ve been watching me for five minutes? That’s fucking creepy Malcolm.” You tapped your finger against your keyboard nervously, eyes darting around, hoping someone would catch on to how uncomfortable this was for you.

“Please. That chair isn’t for anyone now is it?”

“Oh I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

It’s still unsure if you audibly let out a sigh of relief seeing Steve approach the table, and take the seat next to you.

Malcolm crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Look bud, I don’t know if you’re trying to play the hero card here by swooping in to try and save some damsel in distress you don’t know just to get her number, but you can right fuck off.”

Steve turned and looked at you. “Is he bugging you, Y/n? Because I’ll fucking kick his ass…”

You smiled and placed your hand on top of Steve’s thigh under the table, where Malcolm couldn’t see. You gave it a squeeze, hoping to god he understood how grateful you were at the moment for him. “Steve, this is Malcolm…you remember…from the other night.”

“Shut the fuck up—this is cologne guy?”

You nodded. Throughout the rollercoaster of being approached by an ex who was kind of threatening you, inside your favorite coffee shop, while you were alone, your heart rate shot up. Your heart was pounding. But when Steve put his hand on top of yours, you thought your heart rate would skyrocket.

And then the weirdest thing happened, it didn’t. Steve started rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, and your heart rate went down. If this was on purpose, you might never know, but this simple gesture from someone you have known for mere hours had your breathing even out and your heart rate slide back down to within reason.

Wasn’t it written somewhere that love makes your heart beat out of your chest?

That love makes your soul bleed and your eyes weep. Love is supposed to make you crazy and worship the other person till the ends of the earth. It’s supposed to be overwhelming and make you feel like you could burst just from how much love you hold within yourself. It was a disease, unable to be cured—a madness. It’s all-consuming, unforgiving, a fire that cannot be tamed. Something you willingly killed yourself for. Ended it all because the idea of losing it was a fate worse than death

What you’re feeling couldn’t be love then. That’s what you had decided. You weren’t going batshit crazy over the idea of risking your life for him or losing your mind over the thought that he might not love you back. It was just a plain and simple joy: sitting next to him, his hands on yours.

Your heartbeat had found its way back to normal, and your mind began to refocus on the confrontation in front of you.

By the time your vision refocused after the thirty seconds you managed to blackout, Malcolm was glaring at Steve but starting to walk away. Whatever Steve said, worked, and you looked over at him, confused. " I think I must have blacked out or something because how the hell did you get him to..."

Steve shrugged. "If you missed it, you missed it."

"You're joking right?"

Steve shrugged and smiled. His hand was still on yours, but you completely forgot about it—

"What are you working on?"

—Til now.

You begrudgingly took your hand away from his and brought it up to the keyboard of your laptop, clicking it awake so he could see what you had been working on. The two of you spent the next hour sitting and talking about your courses, which were all a bunch of nonsense anyway since you were a second-semester senior with barely anything to do.

"You're taking a metal-welding class for credit?"

You smirked and nodded. "When I tell you college is a joke, I truly mean it. I kind of love it though. Robin, however, dislikes being outlesbianed by someone who is not a lesbian. But I think I'm getting pretty good at it too."

_____________________________________________________________________________

Two hours later, you and Steve found yourselves as the last two in the coffee shop, still talking about anything and everything you possibly could—wherever the conversation led you.

When it was time to get kicked out, Steve helped pack up your things, and you both started the short walk back to the apartment where you ended up raiding the "delinquent Cabinet" as it had been affectionately named and properly labeled.

By the time Robin got home from her shift, you and Steve had demolished a joint, several shooters, half a bottle of prosecco, and half a bottle of vodka. The conversation had never stopped, with the two of you always finding some way to stay touching to one another. You couldn't deny that the feeling of Steve calmed you down immensely, and the courage you were feeling from the past few hours helped with the want to have your hands on him.

But when Robin walked into your apartment, you and Steve sobered up a tiny bit, deciding to leave some space between you both. You missed the way his hand felt on your calf, absentmindedly massaging it as the two of you talked about the difference between weed from Indiana and weed from a major city.

“Hey you two…”

“Birdy!” You exclaimed. Your eyes were fading away from the red of smoking, but your smile was lazy and your body felt heavy, but not in a bad way.

“Ah, I see we broke into your stash?”

You smirked slightly, and nodded. “Well if Mr. Harrington is going to smoke good weed, no offense to your friend back home, then he needs the best.”

“Eddie sells good weed.” Steve defended his friend from home but it just made you giggle.

“Steve, that joint you gave me tasted like the equivalent of watered down vodka. It’s good, but it’s not the best. You can’t deny that mine was waaaaayyyyyyy better. Besides, it came from a pretty girl so it’s automatically better than Eddie’s.”

Steve’s cheeks blushed slightly as he looked over at Robin. “How was work?”

Robin’s eyes shifted between the two of you on the couch, but then settled on Steve. “How much did she have?”

“Don’t wanna know Birdy!” Your voice sang out across the room.

Steve shrugged. “Work?”

She huffed and hung up her coat, admitting defeat on getting information out of a crossed-you. Robin kicked off her shoes and grabbed one of the bottles off of the counter–the one that was still half full–and joined the two of you on the couch. Robin managed to fit herself perfectly between you and Steve, causing you to frown slightly, but say nothing.

“I almost punched an old lady but nothing new.” Robin took a long swing from the bottle of wine.

“Was it that cunt Mrs. Defejeki?”

“Woah, language.”

“What are you five?” You rolled your eyes at Steve’s comment and picked up the remainder of the joint out of the ashtray, trading the weed for the rest of the bottle of wine. You and Robin shared basically everything. There were always a few exceptions, but still. If you started a bowl, Robin would finish it. If Robin did a shot, you did a shot. And while you were both built differently, the mix of shit the two of you ingested managed to get the both of you to about the same place.

Robin just relit the joint in her mouth, nodding at you. “You’d think she’d go somewhere else to buy eggs if she always has something fucking stupid to say about our eggs. Ma’am, no offense, but you’re in a fucking city. If you want fresh eggs, get a friend with a coop on a roof or some weird shit.” She took a long drag, eyes rolling back and her eyelids closing.

You nodded. “Or just…leave the fucking city.”

This caused both you and Robin to burst into a fit of giggles, causing the latter to cough a little bit since she was still inhaling.

You felt Steve’s eyes on you the whole time, but it only made you warm and fuzzy inside…or maybe that the combination of shit you put in your body. But either way, his eyes were gorgeous. You couldn’t help looking back at him, trying to locate every single color that reflected off of his eyes in the dim lighting. It didn’t help that his eyes were redder than yours, but he was still just as stunning to you.

Robin leaned in front of you, blocking your view of the gorgeous specimen across from you on the couch, and placed the filter back in the ashtray. “Now what kiddos.” She placed a hand on your thigh and looked over at you, a smile on her face.

“Did you wanna go out? Because I’m a little decapitated at the moment.”

This caused Steve and Robin to burst at the seams. You furrowed your eyebrows as Steve and Robin kept laughing at you. Everytime they managed to calm down a bit, they would look at one another and burst out laughing again.

“What!” You grumbled, shoving your foot against Robin’s thigh, trying to get her to pay attention to you again. “Whattttttt.”

“It’s—” She giggled. “Not decapitated–HA–Incapt—” She couldn’t speak, she giggled so much. “Fucxk Steve.” She heaved out. “How the fuck do you say it?”

Steve, who was not much better than Robin at the moment, was wiping literal tears from his eyes.

“Incoorperat—fuck—wait.” He giggled again, and you were sure a flame just washed over your body, leaving you with goosebumps. “In—Cah—Pass–ih–tay–ted.”

He slowly sounded out the word like he was in the middle of an eighth grade spelling bee.

You slapped Robin's arm. “I literally said that!!”

Robin and Steve burst into another fit of laughter.

The group of you continued to giggle, and talk over one another. All of you filled to the brim with smiles and laughter and stories to tell.

At some point you had changed into your pajamas, most likely when Robin had decided to call her night and go to bed. You, on the other hand, had changed into your pajamas, and gone back out into the kitchen to clean up the mess you had made during the night’s festivities. Steve, who was still awake, offered to help you, like the gentlemen you were learning he was.

The two of you cleaned the kitchen, talking about your childhoods, comparing the worlds you grew up in–their likeness, their differences.

And somehow 11 pm turned into Midnight. And then Midnight became 2 am. And then 2 am had become 6 in the morning.

You had spent the entire night, sitting on your couch, talking to Steve Harrington.

Since it was early enough in the morning, you invited Steve to come and sit on the fire escape with you, and watch the sunrise.

It really sucked visually when there was no sun to watch rise since the sky was overcast and gray, but that didn’t stop you from enjoying Steve’s company.

The two of you sat in silence with one another. You and Robin had always joked about how much you hated domesticity, the thought of just existing with someone else for the rest of your life was definitely a thought that scared you. Especially doing things as simple as laundry or the dishes, eating your meals together, or sitting on the fire escape and watching the sunrise together. But this moment, with Steve, made your heart ache. You never wanted this moment to end. It was a new drug you didn’t know you needed. And now that you had it, how were you supposed to give it up?

“I really appreciated last night–tonight—the past several hours.”

You looked away from the street, and over at Steve. “I-...I really enjoyed it too.”

He smiled softly at you, and you have no idea what came over you, maybe it was bravery. But you reached over and brushed some of the hair in his face, behind his ear. It was intimate, maybe too intimate for people who were supposed to be friends by proxy of Robin Buckley and nothing else.

You could feel Steve’s breath hitch and for a singular moment you regretted everything. You regretted staring at him in the bar. You regretted getting coffee with him. You regretted telling him about your thesis. You regretted sitting next to him during your movie night. You regretted the movie night. You regretted staying up and talking to him for hours on end, wasting away the night until he knew almost every single thing about you. You regretted suggesting coffee on your fire escape when you realized it was six in the morning. You regretted brushing his hair out of the way.

But most importantly, you regretted not putting your coffee cup down when you did because the hot liquid spilled all over your lap when you quickly retracted your hand and stood up.

“Shit–Fuck. Sorry.” You watched as the liquid covered your bare legs and as the mug clattered across the fire escape, and off the edge, shattering on the ground below.

“Shit–are you okay?”

You were shaking your head. The coffee was fucking hot, that was for sure. And that was at least your excuse for the tears that sprang to your eyes. Especially since you really liked that mug too. Steve put his mug down and crawled through your window. “Where are your towels??”

Your hands covered your face as you vaguely mumbled something adjacent to ‘the closet’. Steve had no idea which closet you meant, so he grabbed the dish rag hanging off of the stovetop and made his way back across the living room and through the window.

“Are you okay?” He handed you the towel and you wiped off the burning hot liquid. Luckily, you barely had enough coffee to kill you, so your legs were just a bit red from the quick extreme change in temperature.

Robin, who had heard the commotion ran out of her room in a tired stupor and looked around, panicking. “Is everything okay?”

Steve looked back into the apartment at Robin. “She–uh, she spilled her coffee and the mug went over the railing and she’s not burnt or anything but—yeah.”

Robin furrowed her brows and made her way over to the window. “Sweetheart, why are you up this early? It’s not even seven am.”

You shook your head, and that’s when the thunder started. You aggressively sighed and made your way back through the window into the apartment, following Steve who had done just that moments prior.

“I'm going to go take a shower.” You quickly made your way to your room before Steve or Robin could say anything.

You grabbed your lotion and a hair towel from your closet, alongside your robe, and headed into the bathroom. Once you closed and locked the door, you looked down at your legs. The red was starting to fade away, thank God, and there was no sign of bubbling so at least your embarrassing blunder wasn’t going to give you physical injury—only emotional.

Steve and Robin’s hushed whispers carried down the hall but you had no idea what the two of them were talking about, only that it was probably about you. You decided to ignore it and splash some water on your face.

God, how fucking embarrassing was that? You weren’t one to get flustered by men, or women, or really anyone, but this? What the fuck was that? Spilling hot coffee all over your lap?

And Steve had sprung right into action, could he be any more perfect? My god you were fucked.

It was at that moment that you realized you left your phone on the kitchen counter. It’s not that you couldn’t shower without music, but you preferred not to. So now you have to contemplate the dilemma of going out and facing your best friend and her best friend who were definitely talking about you, while you were only in a robe, or do you just suffer in silence.

When you heard the front door slam shut, you had your answer. Assuming that both of them had decided to go out to breakfast and give you some space, you shoved your clothes into the hamper in the closet in the bathroom and opened the door.

And there was Steve, with his hand up, as if he was about to knock. “Hey—sorry.”

“Oh–” You took a step back, and only looked at his face for a moment, a little too embarrassed to really make eye contact with him.

“Sorry, it’s just—I–uh, Robin went to get us some breakfast from this place…She wanted me to let you know, and you had been in there a while without the water running so I–uh–wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You looked up at him and almost swooned at the sincerity in his eyes. Could this man be any more perfect? Did he want to talk to you? You had only been in the bathroom for like, five minutes without turning on the water?

“I’m fine Steve, thank you for asking. I wanted to…um…apologize for earlier when I–”

Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize, seriously–”

“No I so do, I literally made a move on my best friend’s best friend, and almost completely unwarranted too–”

You were cut off by the feeling of Steve’s lips on yours.

It was like heaven was on earth, and every single one of those thoughts came back to your mind. Steve’s lips—having coffee in the mornings with him. His eyes—getting dressed up and going out to lunch and running errands with him. His smile—making dinner with him and doing the dishes afterward. His hair—the sight of his head between your legs—

He pulled away the second he realized you weren’t kissing back and started to follow down the same path of panic you had just been on. “Shit—I read that so wrong–fuck, I didn’t—”

You pulled yourself out of whatever stupor you were in, grabbed Steve Harrington by the back of his neck and shoved his face into yours—lips crashing against the others. His hand flew around your waist and pulled you up against his body.

He tasted like mint chapstick, something you weren’t sure you were expecting, but it just added to how attractive he was.

Steve slowly walked you backwards, until the back of your thighs hit the counter. Steve all but picked you up while you hopped backward onto the counter. He was once again your knight in shining armor when he held you in place, saving you from toppling over into the sink. You laughed against his lips, causing him to smile and pull away for a moment. “You’re clumsy aren’t you.”

You watched as his chest rose and fell, just as quickly as yours. You pulled him into another first kiss, wanting to feel his lips again. “You have no idea.” You mumbled, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Steve moved his lips away, starting to kiss up your jaw, preening at every little gasp and inhale and sound you made. He squeezed your hips and moved your waist slightly, giving you the hint you needed to start grinding on him. His teeth grazed your ear and you let out a moan, rolling your body up against his.

Steve let out a breath against your neck making your skin break out into goosebumps. Your right hand was clutching the kitchen countertop, while your left hand had made its way up his chest and on the back of his neck. Your fingers wove into his hair, yanking on it slightly as he continued to kiss lightly down your neck.

Something you never thought would happen today was hearing Steve Harrington moan. It was one of the hottest sounds you had ever heard in your life, causing you to pull on his hair again just so you could hear it again.

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me here.” He groaned against your neck and pulled you directly against him.

“So do something about it.” You sighed out gripping the counter tightly.

You felt him smirk against your skin and pull away from you, much to your dismay, which you made known by your groan. "Steve please."

"Say it again Princess."

Your eyes met his as you bit your lips. "Please."

A wave of something came over your entire body at the look Steve gave you when spoke.

"Anything you want, pretty girl."

Something else you had never thought would happen today was the sight of Steve Harrington kneeling before you on your bathroom floor between your legs.

You had basically prepped for this moment since you were completely naked under the robe you were wearing, but the thought of a shower was now far from your mind. Steve kissed your thigh, causing you to suck in a breath, and grip the countertop impossibly harder.

He slowly kissed up your thigh, moving your legs so that they were over his shoulders.

You moaned out his name, causing him to falter for only a moment. He groaned against your skin and squeezed your thigh with his hand. “Fuck me gorgeous.”

You licked your lips, unable to lift your head from the way it was resting on the mirror.

"Sweetheart, eyes on me."

You moaned and inhaled, looking down at the man between your legs. His eyes were already on yours, as he slid both of his hands up, pulling you directly against his mouth.

The feeling of his lips against your cunt made you let out the most strangled sound, trying your best to contain anything above a whisper.

You could have cummed at the way he was looking at you, but just rocked your hips against his mouth, hoping for a bit more of the feeling of him.

“Come on pretty girl.” He licked up your cunt, causing your body to involuntarily jolt a little bit. “I know you can make prettier sounds than that. I wanna hear them. I want the neighbors to know who’s fucking you like this–”

There was a knock on the front door, slightly frantic, but not panicked.

“Hey, guys? I accidentally locked the door, can you come get it for me?”

You let out a little gasp, your breath stuttering as you teetered on the edge of the counter and on an orgasm. Steve pulled away and kissed your thigh quickly. You leaned your head back against the mirror and just gripped the counter, coming to terms with the fact that your best friend just cock blocked you, and that Steve was no longer between your legs, eating you out like a starved man.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He cooed, standing up and kissing you quickly. “I know I know.”

You whined when he pulled away, the taste of you on his lips was not one that either of you would forget for at least the rest of the day, probably your lives.

“I’m gonna turn on the shower and then go let her in—.”

Your phone pinged with a text from Robin as Steve turned the shower on for you. You squeezed your legs together, trying to get any sort of release from the pent-up orgasm just sitting in your gut.

“You wouldn’t do anything without me, pretty girl, would you.”

“I could hurt you, Steve Harrington.” You muttered but nodded to his statement.

He smirked slightly but then closed the door behind him and you heard him make his way to the door, to let Robin into the apartment.

It wasn’t even 8 am and you hadn’t slept and the day was getting longer by the minute.

_____________________________________________________________________

After that morning, you had somehow managed to miss Steve at every turn, causing your frustration to build throughout the day, especially since he was leaving the next night.

And then, because of your classes, you managed to not see Steve at all for the rest of the trip, except for the few minutes where the two of you crossed paths, with Robin.

The last time you were face to face with Steve Harrington alone for more than a few seconds was when he was tongue-fucking you on your bathroom counter. And it was pissing you off.

But one day, a few days after Steve had flown home, your phone pinged. And when you saw that one Steve Harrington had started following you on instagram, you followed him back embarrassingly fast.

The only thing that was more embarrassing then that was how quickly he dmed you after.

And suddenly you were attached to your phone: Constantly checking it to see if he texted you, smiling at your screen whenever his photo popped up, giggling at his cheesy jokes out loud. Your demeanor had completely changed. Instead of the consistent snark and attitude, you had a more pleasant and approachable demeanor. You would wake up early in the mornings and make breakfast for Robin before she was even out of bed. At the clubs, you would dance and drink with people, but never danced with them for more than one song, and didn’t take anyone home either. Sometimes you would even opt to sit there on your phone, texting Steve.

But after three weeks of being on the outside of whoever was making you feel this way, Robin had enough. She was going to find out who this mystery person was, and how the hell they managed to make you act like this.

“Who the fuck have you been texting?”

You looked up from your phone, immediately clicking it off. “What are you talking about?”

Robin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve been on your phone nonstop for the past two weeks, smiling at it like some sort of lovestruck idiot, so who is it? Who are you smitten for?”

“Pshh–I’m not—I think you’re losing it, or something.”

“Is it a girl?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“So what’s his name then huh?”

You looked away from her, staying silent.

“You can’t pretend like you haven’t been smiling at your phone, or that you haven’t been drifting off into space…You’re literally doing it right now?”

You blinked the images of Steve out of your mind and shook your head.

“You’re delusional—” Just as you looked over at Robin, she was on top of you, having launched herself across the room in an attempt to get your phone from your hands. Unfortunately, Robin launched herself at you with such force that the two of you toppled over and she managed to grab your phone, snatching it from your hands.

Right before she could slither out of your grasp, you grabbed her ankle and yanked her back towards your body. “Robin give me my PHONE.”

This was an unfortunate situation for many reasons. The first was that Robin escaped your grasp and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. The second was that your phone unlocked with her face so it was relatively easy for her to snoop. The third reason happened so painfully slowly. You heard her laughter die off and silence take over. She had discovered who you had been texting.

And you just stood across from the bathroom door, leaning against the wall and bouncing your leg, eyes wide, heart beating loudly, as you could feel Robin looking through everything you had been saying to Steve.

She had been your best friend for years so she knew how you texted when you flirted, and to make matters worse, she knew how her other best friend texted when he was flirting too.

Suddenly the door opened quickly and Robin handed you your phone back.

“Birdy—”

She shook her head. “I’m going to go for a walk.” Her voice shook a little bit and all you could do was stand there, knowing better than to try and prod her. “I’m not—I just need to think and then we can talk about it.” She muttered.

You watched as Robin grabbed her coat, her purse, and her airpods before you watched the door slam shut.

The next thirty-seven minutes were filled with silence and a lot of panic cleaning. Suddenly your bed had new sheets in it, you had taken out the trash, the dishes had been done, you swept the kitchen—and even lit that midnight citrus candle Robin loved so much.

Ever since becoming friends, you and Robin simply didn’t fight. The two of you got along so well that it felt like you were made for each other sometimes. But right now? Now was not one of those times. Instead, you paced around in literal circles because the guilt of non stop texting Steve was eating you alive.

But it’s not like you did anything wrong either. The two of you had only been texting and nothing more. Sure it was almost every second you possibly could and he did take up all available space in your head, especially since the two of you never got around to round two of your bathroom scene—let alone finishing the first session.

You were not dating Steve Harrington. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t do anything else without Robin’s knowledge and consent of the issue in the first place.

You looked up when the door closed, making eye contact with your girl. In her hand, she had a brown paper bag and a drink carrier carrying her favorite drink in it, alongside yours. You smiled at her, hesitantly because she really could have thrown the drink in your face and you would have accepted it. But instead, Robin gestured towards the balcony and you nodded, grabbing some napkins and opening the window so she could step out onto the fire escape.

Once you both were through, you each sat in your respective spots, delegating the drinks and the pastries she had picked up on her way home from whatever path she had taken herself on. The two of you did this in complete silence. At first, it was nerve-wracking, but the peaceful knowledge of the fact that you both could move in sync with one another felt good.

You both sat and watched the people pass by, taking sips of your drinks, and taking small bites out of each of the pastries. You weren’t going to speak first—that much was obvious.

After a moment, Robin sighed and looked at you. “You like him a lot.”

Not a question, just a fact.

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Hmm.” Robin’s mouth twisted, but not into anything malicious. She looked down at her hands. “I wish you told me you liked him sooner, because he clearly—uh, he clearly likes you back.”

Your cheeks tinged with pink, and your hands rubbed at your cheeks, trying to hide the fact that there was a blush on your face.

“I wasn’t going to do anything about it unless I talked to you first Birdy—”

“I know.”

“And neither was he—”

“I know.”

“And honestly Robin, I really do like him, and I was pretty sure he liked me back. I mean we spent an entire night out here talking and talking—I’ve never talked to anyone this much in my entire life. And he thinks I’m funny and actually answers my texts and I—I just….”

“I know.”

You looked over at her. Your mind swimming with thoughts of Steve and Robin. It was bringing you to the verge of tears since no matter how big a crush on someone was, you would never let it come between you and Robin’s friendship.

Robin took your hand in hers and shook her head. “It’s okay. I promise.”

“Really?”

“Yeah–I mean. I had to think about it and at first, I was really mad, like pissed, because I thought you two had been seeing each other behind my back—which obviously I know you weren’t—and then I realized how fucking smitten you’ve been since he was here. I mean your attention was basically in Indiana.” The two giggled a little bit, a tear breaking free from your eye as Robin continued. “But you weren’t. You were still my best friend and you didn’t even do anything because you cared about me? And I’m not exactly thrilled that Dingus has won your heart over me, but I also wouldn’t not recommend him, if that makes any sense.”

You nodded. “Birdy I–”

She squeezed your hand. “Really. It’s okay. I’m honestly just mad about the fact that he’s answering your texts. He’s the fucking worst at texting everyone else so it must mean he really likes you. I’m extremely jealous…”

You laughed again, just enjoying Robin’s goodness.

“Besides, I feel like it gives me the upper hand for a question I’ve been wanting to ask. Wanna go to Cowland with me in a few weeks? The kids have been dying to meet you and they’re graduating from high school and I was going to go back anyways but since I know you probably want to see Steve again–”

“Robin. I’ve been bugging you to take me to Cowland for literal years. I’d be so down to go, not just because Harrington is there.”

The two of you shared a hug, arms wrapped lovingly around the other, squeezing almost all the air out of each other’s lungs.

_____________________________________________________________________

Finally, the semester had ended, and it was time for Robin to go home and visit her kids. You and Robin had both walked across the stage, receiving your diplomas in your respective fields, both of you with Magna Cum Laude cords around your necks, plus a few others. Steve couldn’t make it up to the city that weekend, which was a little upsetting to Robin at first, but all was understood.

The two of you had signed a lease for another two years, deciding that you both wanted to stay in New York City, and you both wanted to live with each other. This was really exciting for both of you, but was causing a serious amount of guilt for your best friend.

"Robin, it's not bad news. I know I'm biased, but it's incredible news that you have a job, and you have a place to live. and Yes—-don't cut me off—Yes, it's sad because it's officially going to be your permanent home, but that's, like, that's what growing up is."

"When the fuck did you get so...so....wise?"

You shrugged and looked over at her with a smile.

Since Robin didn't have a license, the two of you patiently waited at the airport for Steve to arrive. He had no idea you were suddenly in the great state of Indiana. You had never been before, and Robin had told you not to get your hopes up—but part of you was excited to see where your best friend grew up, where she was before this chapter of your lives.

You hadn't told Steve that you were in state, at the request of Robin, since she had some sort of plan in her mind. You knew that the first step was gauging Steve's reaction to seeing you at the airport with her, which made no sense to you, but you kept your mouth shut since this was her home turf.

A maroon BMW pulled up in front of the two of you, and you could say you were surprised by Steve's car of choice, but you would be lying. It's not that he read as a rich person, but Robin had one time told you his parents were loaded and you had laughed her off. Seeing how nice this car was, you wish you could take it back.

Steve pulled up to the two of you and rolled the window down. "Do you actually need help with the luggage or can you—" The second he saw you, he lost track of his sentence. Eyes roaming over your face, your body. Why did it feel good to be looked at like that?

"You're here."

You gave him a nervous smile. "That is true, yes."

The corner of Steve's mouth tugged up into a smile, and the two of you continued to look at one another, enjoying the fact that you were finally in each other's company again for the first time in over a month.

Robin snapped a finger in front of your face. "Good grief you two, let's get moving. I'm not standing out here in the sun all day because we stunned Steve into silence with your presence—-and to be fair, if you surprised me, I would be shocked into silence too by how excited I would be— pop the trunk Steven— to see you, but this is not the time. I want to get on the road as quickly as possible."

Steve snapped out of the trance between you both and popped the trunk of the car. He quickly got out of the car and moved around it to grab the luggage from you, and Robin, to put into the trunk.

"You suck ass, Harrington. You'll get out of the car for her, but was gonna make me put my bags in the back myself."

Steve rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, almost like an exasperated mother. "Robs, seriously. You know I would have gotten out to help you."

"I'm sure you would have Steve. I'm sure."

"You're not even in Hawkins and you're being a pain in my ass."

The two of them continued to squabble, making their way into the front of the car while you slid into the back. It was the sort of friendly banter that you could get used to.

And you did because, after about ten minutes into the drive, you had completely zoned out and watched as the roads turned into fields. You had never seen such flat land before, it was... bizarre. The world felt like it was supposed to have things reaching towards the sky—trees, skyscrapers, mountains—but not here. It was tall grass and nothingness. But it wasn't a bad feeling, just different—something almost serene about the vastness of it all.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to be grounded, but you couldn't speak to that since you had literally run away to the city to live in the sky and aim for the stars.

Your introspection about the human condition of reaching for the stars was interrupted by Robin.

"Right Y/n?"

"Mhm."

"Were you even listening?" Steve huffed.

"To be so honest, I have no fucking idea what you said birdy. Not one clue."

Robin groaned and turned around in her seat to look at you. "How long have you been tuned out; I don't know how much of this I can restate."

"Basically since we left the city."

Robin groaned again: way louder, and with a lot more dramatics. "I'm not explaining this again. You agreed with me regardless, so it's the truth."

Steve looked at you through the rearview mirror and smiled at you. It was one of those smiles that could make a girl trip over her own feet, and it was directed at you, making your insides melt. Steve had clearly been out in the sun since he was a little tanner than you last remember, and he had a small swatch of freckles across his nose and cheeks. It was adorable.

"Oh! Oh! We're almost there!" Robin exclaimed, and you broke your eyes away from Steve's to look at the old sign she was pointing to.

Hawkins - 5 Miles

"Five minutes til you enter a literal hellscape."

Robin swatted Steve's arm and smiled back at you. "It's not that bad I swear. Like sure, it's a bit of a Cowland, that much is true, but—-"

"You don't have to justify Cowland to me Birdy. The only thing you have to justify is the fact that we have been on the road for almost an hour and I have yet to see a single cow. Now that's just ridiculous."

Robin smiled at you and turned back around, facing the front again. She reached over and snatched Steve's phone (something you realized was a habit with everyone) and opened his Spotify, scrolling until she found the right song. She cranked the volume up and rolled the windows down, screaming along the words to Everybody Wants to Rule the World. How fitting.

You rolled your window down and enjoyed the feeling of the wind on your face. While you had never been to Indiana before, or most of the middle of the country, something you definitely loved was how fresh the air was. No buildings or mass amounts of cars were polluting the air—just the grass and trees.

Steve looked in the rearview mirror at you again, and you looked up, feeling his gaze on you. You could see the glimmer in his eyes as he looked at you. The pure joy that you were here. And you knew it was going to be a good two weeks here in Hawkins.

That was until it rained for three days straight, and you and Robin were basically stuck inside her room with nowhere to go. Robin's parents were kind enough to lend you their cars when they got home from work since Robin didn't drive and you didn't have a car, but that meant that if either of you wanted to go anywhere during the day, you had to bike or walk and neither of which, in the rain, was really ideal. You could always wait for Steve to get off of work, but by then you'd have Robin's parent's car so you were stuck.

But on the fourth day, you woke up to the smell of petrichor and a shining sun peering through the curtains. This was perfect because of you and Robin's strict itinerary.

Friday Day: Exploring the town/Lovers Lake

Friday Evening: Graduation

Friday Night: Grad Party

When Robin told you that you were spending your day at Lover's Lake, you thought she was actually going to murder you since there were no real places named that, but when the two of you were picked up by Steve to head to the lake, you found out it was, in fact, a real place.

It was actually kind of pretty, considering it was surrounded by woods. You were calmed by the sense of height within the area from the trees, but the actual visage of the lake was beautiful, and the sun reflecting off of that made it feel a bit more magical.

You were decked out in that same hoodie from the other day, as well as your favorite pair of shorts, both of which were covering up your favorite bathing suit. Swimming was enjoyable, but you weren't sure if today was a swimming type of day or a lounging in the sun type of day.

Either way, it was a 'try-not-to-stare-at-Steve-Harrington' day.

Your chauffeur started to help two other guys around his age, set up a picnic blanket, secure an umbrella into the sand, and set up the speaker for the music.

Nancy, the girl you had yet to be properly introduced to, got out of the car she drove here in with one of the boys, and walked over to you, a bright smile on her face.

"Hi! I'm Nancy, it's so nice to finally meet you. Robin hasn't shut up about you since you first met at college."

Your face lit up and you tried to cover up the smirk on your face. "Since we first met? Damn Birdy, I had no idea..."

"Thanks, Nance, now she's not going to shut up about it for fucking weeks," Robin mumbled, slinking off to go grab more things from Steve's car.

"It's really nice to meet you, Nancy. I've heard a lot about you too." You smiled and shook her hand—it felt a little serious for a meeting, but you got the sense that was just how Nancy was.

"Did Robin add your songs to the playlist? It gets really varied at times, but it's the only way we figured out to let each person be happy with the music if we all put fifteen songs on there, and then hit shuffle."

You shook your head, really confused about what this girl was saying to you. Nancy handed you her phone and scrolled through the playlist, showing you everyone's music picks, and explaining it in further detail. When you finally understood, you paused. "So can I add anything? No questions asked?"

Nancy nodded, smirking at the slight twinkle in your eyes. You added yourself to the playlist and handed her back her phone. "I'll add them before we start the playlist so that way they're in there fair and square."

Nancy nodded and then looked over at the boys. "So! You've met Robin, and obviously Steve, has Robin introduced you to anyone else yet?"

You shook your head 'No' and Nancy took your hand and dragged you off into the sand towards the gaggle of boys all staring at the umbrella since it was not as sturdy as they thought it would be.

After a single gust of wind, it had knocked right over.

"Nance there's no need to man-handle y/n—-"

Nancy rolled her eyes and stopped short of the group. "Go get some rocks Steve, and pile it around the base, I'm pretty sure we went over this last summer..."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure it ended up not working in the long run there Wheeler." The long-haired guy crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow.

"Do they always give you this much lip even when they're wrong?" You half-whispered to Nancy, causing the two of you to try and cover your laughs.

"Y/n! You're supposed to be on my side here." Steve threw his hands up in the air before they landed on his hips.

"You look like a mom." You blurted out, causing yourself and the rest of the young adults to laugh together. Except for Steve, who was fake fuming, but really just at a loss. He really didn't think he looked like a mother but if a girl he had hung out with for no more than three days thinks so, then he might as well be fucked.

"Where did Robin find you?"

You looked across the group to the guy with longer hair, a tight tee with some sort of skull on it, and black bathing suit shorts. He was attractive, that was sure enough, but he definitely wasn't the pretty boy Harrington wanted to take a bite out of. Your voice dripped with sarcasm. "Take a wild guess."

"Touché. So. More importantly, what are you adding to the playlist."

You shrugged. "You'll find out. I'm guessing you're Eddie."

"In the flesh." He did one of those bows that was reminiscent of a movie from your childhood—it was really fucking nerdy.

"And so you must be Jonathan." Your tone shifted, slightly nicer, less of a bite to it. It stumped Steve, watching you clearly figure out and adapt yourself to the person you were talking to, but never being one to actually hurt the other person, just tease lightly.

Jonathan nodded, his arm was already around Nancy's shoulder, and he gave you a small 'Hey".

Robin shouted over at the group for help with all three of the coolers, and you watched Jonathan and Nancy go over to help her with them. You helped Eddie and Steve set the umbrella again (this time properly), and moved on to setting up your towel and bag.

Steve placed his towel on the other side of yours and sat down on the ground next to you. Eddie had moved on to setting up his area around the picnic table, reorganizing coolers, and setting up the various snacks for the group throughout the day.

"So..."

You turned and looked over at Steve, who was looking right at you, a brightness in his eyes that the sun couldn't match. It looked right, like it was supposed to always be there.

"So..." You responded, smiling back at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

You sighed and leaned back on your hands, looking out over the water. "Robin thought that it would be a good...test of character, I think is how she put it. She, uh, got a hold of my phone a few weeks ago, and made the connection about why I had been so..."

Steve bit his lip. "So...?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not gonna tell you if you're going to be a jerk about it."

Steve held his hands up, "I swear I won't be."

"Fine." You huffed and looked down at your legs. "Why I was so...attached to my phone, and blushing all the time, and why I kept smiling when I would get a text....and yeah."

You saw as Steve's face flashed with a wave of emotions, all of which managed to stay just below the surface. One of these days you would have to just stare at his face all day so you could learn very little mannerism, every little quick about this man.

"You, uh, smile every time I text you?"

You pursed your lips but then nodded. "Yeah. I—uh, I do."

"Hm." Steve nodded and looked out over the lake.

"Yeah."

You looked over at Steve just as he looked at you, causing both of you to smile again. Just as Steve was about to say something, you heard Robin call across the beach.

"Babe!"

You huffed slightly, the smile on your face becoming a little fake before turning and looking over at your best friend. "Yeah, babe?"

"Add your fucking music so I can hit shuffle."

"Aye Aye Captain." You gave her a mock salute and pulled out your phone, turning back towards Steve.

"Am I seriously going to get judged for what I put on?"

"We actually have a no complaints rule, since a certain someone would always bitch when his music never came on."

Your face lit up with amusement and nodded, before looking down at the playlist and scrolling through the songs already on there to see what had been added already.

"You really like the seventies and eighties, huh Harrington."

He shrugged and smiled. "I think I could have easily been an eighties heartthrob."

You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm slightly. "Yeah okay, sure."

Steve feigned a gasp. "You don't think I could've been!"

This caused you to laugh but continued to sort through your music, choosing the fifteen songs you felt like you wanted to hear most today.

"I'm sure you could have Steve. I'm sure."

Steve clutched his heart and fell backward. "You're killin' me here princess!"

You hit his thigh, not hard, but just enough to get your point across. "Don't call me that, unless you're going to commit to finishing the job because you owe me...big time." Your eyebrows were raised expectantly, but your voice was low so only Steve could hear you.

Steve smirked, and his eyes went a little dark for a moment before the sun returned them to their caramel color. "Trust me, now that you're here..."

"Good." You smiled and laid back on your towel, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your face and thighs, and enjoying the company of the smirking man next to you.

And you both stayed like this for the next hour, only getting up when food was offered. Steve eventually left your side, deciding to go for a swim. You opted out but enjoyed the view.

“He’s something else…”

You turned and looked at Robin sitting next to you, nodding in agreement.

“He really likes you.”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” Teasing her.

Robin shook her head and smiled. “I don’t have to. I mean, I've known him for years, but he’s never been like this about any girl, not even Nance.”

“Steve and Nancy dated?”

“They were the couple in high school. Did not end well, but the two of them are still good friends, surprisingly.”

You mouthed a soft ‘oh’.

“But…I’m being dead serious Y/n, he’s never been so…chill, peaceful…I don't know—”

“Sure.” Nancy chimed in and sat down on the opposite side of you.

“What?”

“He’s just so…sure about you. Like yeah, he can be a cocky asswipe, but he’s always freaking out about whether or not something is right, or going the way he thinks it’s supposed to.”

Robin nodded along while you tried to breathe evenly again. Not that you didn’t get those feelings from Steve, you absolutely did, but hearing about it from both Nancy and Robin at the same time was a bit overwhelming.

“He just, He’s so calm.”

“We’re not even dating.” You sighed, crossing your arms and looking out at the man in the water. He caught you looking at him, and winked at you, sending you a smile along with it. You waved slightly at him, returning the smile.

“He hasn’t asked you yet?”

“Nancy, it’s the twenty-first century, girls can ask guys out too.”

You rolled your eyes at Robin and shook your head. “No, not yet. We’ve only actually spent about fifteen hours in each other’s presence, with one of those being the hour drive down from Indianapolis…”

“Holy shit, and he’s that….wow.” Nancy leaned back on her hands, looking out over the water.

Plus we didn’t want to start dating behind Robin’s backs and have her hate us forever and ever. But you kept that thought to yourself.

The man in question decided that he had enough of the staring from the group of girls sitting on the beach, and waded his way over to you three, before walking out of the lake. “Can I help you three?”

Steve was literally dripping hotness off of his body. The sun backlit him, creating this holy look about him, and the water droplets slowly made their way down his chest and abs and down towards—You snapped your eyes back up to his face, where he was watching every single movement of your eyes, smirking slightly. It was fairly pornographic and would have you dragging Steve over to the car and fucking him senseless, but you’d settle for eye-fucking him instead since Robin was directly next to you, and so was Nancy.

“Just questioning Robin’s girl here.”

Steve’s eyes stayed trained on you and he raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, then why were all of you staring out at me huh?”

“Well, Harrington if you must know...”

“–I must Robin.”

“I’m just learning things. That’s all.” You tilted your head slightly, almost teasing him slightly. Your gaze was already enough to make anyone blush, but Steve Harrington wasn’t anybody. However, he immediately lost the shine of confidence at the thought of you, Robin, and Nancy talking about him.

“Learning what…exactly?”

You, alongside the other two girls, just shrugged, causing Steve to eye all three of you up and down, and head over to where Eddie was cooking up some lunch for you.

Sighing, you fully laid all the way down again and closed your eyes. “I think I’m just going to lie in the sun for a while and internalize every little thing the two of you just said to me.”

You didn’t hear as the two girls got up and left you alone. You also didn’t hear as someone else took his place next to you. You just drifted off into a light sleep, enjoying the warmth the sun was providing you so that you could just breathe for a moment and figure out everything that was going on inside your head.

First off, you liked Steve. And Steve liked you back. This was obvious before the girls told you, but the confirmation was a plus.

Second, Steve hadn’t mentioned ever going on another date, ever. You hadn’t even gone on a first one if you remembered correctly.

Third, You were unsure if Steve Harrington wanted to actually date you, or even kiss you. Sure, you rode his face like you were in one of those bull games in the rodeo bar, and he clearly seemed to enjoy it. But the only time he actually mentioned getting physical with you was either while it was happening, or if you brought it up first. Was he actually interested in you, or just being a gentleman?

This shit was fucking hard, that’s for sure.

“Hey.”

You hummed, letting Steve know you heard him.

“They’re going on a walk through the woods, wanna join?”

You shook your head, not wanting to get up from your spot on the towel.

Steve was silent for the next few moments. You assumed that he was staying on the beach with you since the others grabbed a couple things and started walking off into the woods.

“You’re not going?”

“Nope.”

You opened one eye and looked over at the boy next to you. He was looking right at you–a small smile flashed across his face. He was nervous. “I-I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah…Steve, it is.”

“Good.” He hummed and smiled at you.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Hawkins decided on having a Friday Night Graduation, and while at first, you were hesitant, you realized you’d rather have a graduation at sunset than have to wake up at the crack of dawn to watch kids you didn’t know walk across a stage.

You had gotten slightly dressed up, wearing a summery dress that didn’t leave you overheating, but was one step above casual. Sitting in between Steve and Robin was definitely something to behold considering they wouldn’t stop whispering to you, pointing out their kids.

The Salutatorian was one of theirs—a Will Byers, Jonathan’s brother, as you found out. His speech was beautiful and even made you tear up a bit, which meant nothing since the group you were sitting with was all crying alongside you.

Eventually, the graduates walked, and you watched your friends stand up and down, screaming and cheering for their kids each time one of them walked across the stage. You had learned all of them using a Quizlet, trying to make sure you didn’t mess up any names. So far, you had learned that Dustin Henderson was Steve’s favorite, with Max Mayfield being a close second. (from what you had heard, Max could easily be your favorite). Max was dating Lucas Sinclair, who was on the basketball team, which you found out Steve had been coaching for the past few years. Then, there was Will Byers, Jonathan’s brother, and Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s brother. Mike was dating Elle Hopper, who was best friends with Max. But Elle’s Dad was getting married to Will’s Mom…

You repeated this little thing over and over in your head, trying to wrap your brain around what could have possibly connected all of these older teens to Robin since she and Steve didn’t even talk until high school, and Steve only dated Nancy in junior year and—Honestly, it was weird, considering you really couldn’t imagine twenty-three-year-olds hanging out with eighteen-year-olds, but you lost all your doubt when you saw how connected this group was—whatever had happened between them, bonded them for life.

Eventually, the caps got tossed, the principal said a few words, and they were all dismissed. The small group of you waited off to the side, knowing that they were going to all talk to their parents first. Steve stood next to you, and placed a hand on your waist, leaning down to whisper something in your ear. “Tired yet?”

You laughed softly and shook your head, keeping your head straight ahead because if you turned, you were going to kiss him right on his stupid lips.

“No, but I am ready to start drinking again.”

This caused Steve to laugh slightly and straighten up, but his hand stayed on the small of your back until a gaggle of kids in green and white grad robes came running at you all.

You took a step back watching as hugs and congratulations were thrown out at all of them. It was heartwarming, truly, to see such a family in action. You swore you saw, out of the corner of your eye, Steve and Dustin having a lightsaber battle at one point.

Robin took your hand and dragged you over to the curly-headed one. “Y/n, this is Dustin, Dustin, Y/n. The Roommate.”

All hell broke loose when Robin announced your title. The children’s heads all snapped towards you and they started to crowd you, which wouldn’t have been as intimidating if you had met them all before, or if they were shorter than you, which a bunch of them were not.

“You’re her Roommate?” “We’ve heard so much about you.” “Oh my god, we finally got to meet you?” “You’re a lot prettier in person.” “Where did you get that dress, it’s stunning.” “You came to watch us walk across a stage? That’s definitely a choice…” “I wouldn’t go to Indiana if I lived in a cool place like the city ” “It’s literally so nice to finally meet you.” “You’re like really pretty.” “How did you meet Robin?”

“Alright Alright! Let the woman breathe my god.” Steve yelled out to the group, as he took notice of your wide eyes. It’s not that you were nervous about meeting them, it’s just that the wave of questions was a tad bit overwhelming and unexpected.

“Alright.” Steve sighed and looked at you. “Ready?”

You furrowed your brows. “For?”

“Well.” Steve started to point to each child as if he was giving you a speedrun introduction. “That’s Dustin, That’s Max and Lucas. Will, Mike, And that’s Elle. Am I missing anyone?”

The group managed to give Steve a full unison moment of attitude.

“You still look like such a mom Harrington.” You laughed a bit when he put his hands back on his hips.

“God I knew I’d like you,” Max spoke up, causing you to smile at her.

“It’s really nice to meet all of you!”

They all responded back, at the same time, and then scattered. Whatever initial excitement was there had finally dispersed, meaning you weren’t the center of attention, and you could breathe again. Well, except for one kid, that came up to you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Robin doesn’t shut up about you when she’s home.”

“Good things I hope?”

Dustin nodded, and suspiciously eyed how close you and Steve were standing. “All good things. But I’m surprised at the fact that you came to Indiana.”

You shrugged. “Robin asked, so I came. Pretty easy decision. Best friends and all that.”

“So, are you going to be at Steve’s later?”

“What’s with the interrogation Henderson.” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just asking her questions! She’s new! I can’t just..let her into the group—”

Steve scoffed, “As if you are the final decision maker in that?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

“Sorry Dipshit. The older half really like her, so she’s in.”

“The rest of us have to vet her and you know it. Sure, Robin wouldn’t be friends with her if she sucked, but the rest of us don’t know her—”

Dustin eyed you up and down again. “I’ll allow it, but I still need further proof.”

“Don’t be a dick, Dustin.” Max cut in. “She’s pretty, she clearly can put up with Steve’s shit since she’s willing to stand next to him this long. Why can’t there be another girl in the group?”

Dustin’s mouth floundered for a moment before he settled on his answer. “It’s not that I don’t like her. I just….”

“Dustin.” You smiled at him. “I’m not asking to infiltrate. I get it. This is clearly a tightly bonded family, and I’m not trying to just waltz in here and take a spot. But let me give you my qualifications and you can mull it over, yeah?”

This amused Steve. Somehow, you had managed to entertain Dustin, and still manage to deescalate whatever the kid was thinking about. Dustin agreed to your terms and waited to hear what you had to say.

“First off, unlike Robin, I have a license. I don’t own a car but I live in like the major city of major cities, so I don’t exactly need one. But I can drive. Second. I am not a current permanent addition to the group, at least presence-wise. I am like a fun aunt who will let you stay in the city with her when you want to get out of Hawkins, and I only show up at family functions to spice it up a bit. Third, I have traveled to several different countries in the past two years, which means I can and will bring you back goodies from other countries. Fourth, I know how to party correctly, which means I am at a good time, and I will provide references if you need them. Fifth, and finally. I am over twenty-one, which means, I can and will buy you things that you can’t buy yet. This includes weed from a major city where it is in fact better than the stuff you get here.”

Dustin was taking all of this in, slightly bewildered by the fact that you literally just listed out your qualifications.

“Oh. And a sixth one, thrown in for free, I can commit to a bit Henderson.” You winked at him before walking over to where Robin had been talking to Will about something.

You felt Steve’s eyes on you but didn’t turn around, instead basking in the glory of dropping your over qualifications to win Dustin Henderson’s approval. You integrated yourself into her conversation with Will, enjoying the setting sun in the background. Tonight was going to be a good one, especially since you had decided that tonight was the night you wanted to talk to Steve about whatever was going on between the two of you, especially after everything that happened this morning.

______________________________________________________________________________

The kids managed to convince Steve to let them throw a graduation party at his apartment. Now this usually wouldn’t be such a big deal, but considering that they all could drink and party now, the space almost felt a bit too small. Especially since they invited some of their other friends that you had not yet met. Which is how you ended up sitting on the arm of the couch, watching all of the kids interact with each other.

“Hey.”

You looked over and smiled once you realized who it was. “Hey.”

“Wanna, uh–go into the kitchen with me for a second?”

You nodded and got up, following him past the decently sized group of people, and into the kitchen. It was not a spacious kitchen by any means, but there was a noticeably smaller amount of people, so it felt a million times better. You could breathe.

Luckily for you, you had been drinking since before noon, and it was well on its way to being one am. The true sign of a lady is how well she day drinks. You were on the balance of buzzed and tipsy, toeing the line with perfect grace. This gave you the confidence to feel a bit better about the fact that you were someone who was extremely touchy, which Steve clearly didn’t mind. Your hand had made its way to his chest, and you were gently tracing shapes.

“What’s up, Steve.”

“I–uh.”

You watched as his eyes flitted up to where the rest of the group was in his living room. He was silent for a few moments, which gave you time to really look over his face, and enjoy just how gorgeous he was. The curve of his lips. The slightly blush he always carried on his cheeks. The hazelnut color of his eyes. All while you were patiently waiting for him to sort through the words in his head.

“I’m really glad you came to Hawkins.”

“Me too.” You smiled up at him, batting your eyelashes once or twice for a bit of flirtatious emphasis.

“Because I had a really really good time in the city with you.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue talking.

This caused Steve’s smile to grow, with what you were sure were tints of blush across his cheeks.

“And I—well, I don’t exactly know what to do beyond this because you live in the city and I live here. And Robin might actually kill me if I ask you out, or if she found out the other things we started to get up to.” Steve was talking as quietly as he could, not keen on Robin finding out the compromising positions you had been in when Steve was in New York. “I know she has probably already said something to you but…I don't know. How do you feel about it because–”

For the first time in over a month, you were able to actually kiss him, instead of just dreaming about his lips, his mint chapstick, the way his hands felt around your waist. You had placed your beverage down on the counter and cupped his cheeks with your hands, basically pulling his lips to yours.

That warmth from before came crawling up your spine and filled your body with light. Fuck, you wanted to feel this for as long as you possibly could. Enjoying Steve.

But eventually, your proverbial luck would run out, since Robin cleared her throat from the doorway. She wasn’t exactly staring at either of you, but you couldn’t see her face since you covered your mouth with one of your hands, and wrapped the other arm around your stomach, looking away from her, losing all contact with Steve. Steve had quickly pulled one of his hands away, the other one still on your waist. You weren’t sure if Robin could see that one since your body was blocking it. Steve’s thumb ran up and down your hip, trying to calm you down.

He could feel your heartbeat racing. How embarrassing was that?

Even the calming sensation of Steve’s thumb rubbing up and down on your hip simply could not bring your heart rate down to a nice even 120/80. You’re pretty sure your Apple watch just pinged you about an increased heart rate.

The only worse thing was that Robin had just walked in on you kissing her best friend.

Her two supposed best friends kissed each other.

“I–uh–I was going to ask you where Y/n went…but um, I can see you’re both a bit busy…” The sound of your name made you wince.

Robin’s voice was strained, and she was trying to keep whatever emotions she was feeling at bay. Technically she had said this was fine, but she had never had to witness it or deal with it, in person before.

“Robin–”

“No, guys, seriously stop.” Robin took a breath. You could tell this was a bit weird for her, but she managed a brave face for the moment. “We talked about it. I’m okay with it. It’s just…It’s going to take me a second to get used to actually seeing it. Honestly, I just—I really wasn’t expecting to find you guys making out in the kitchen

“Are you sure?” You finally turned your head and looked at her, more nervous about how she would react to this than anything else in your life.

Robin smiled at you and nodded. “Really, actually, I’m fine. I am. I just, I’m going to go, um…I’ll be out back with Eddie if you need me.” She quickly left the room, leaving you and Steve alone again, to let out the breath both of you were holding.

“I thought that was going to head in a way worse direction if I’m being so honest with you.” You muttered, squeezing Steve’s arm.

“You’re telling me. I almost fucking melted when she first came in.”

This caused you to let out a brief laugh.

Steve sighed and rubbed his thumb up and down on your hip again. “I think she needs time getting used to it. We all do.”

After another moment of staring at one another, the feeling of contentment made your heart swell, shoving some bravery forward and out your mouth.

“I like you a lot, Steve.”

He smiled. “M-Me too.”

“Oh, so you agree? You like you a lot? That’s just what a girl wants to hear, damn.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No no, I meant I Like you a lot, not that I like me a lot—actually—”

“Steve.” You cut him off, smiling at him. “I was teasing. You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Steve couldn’t fight the smile growing on his face harder if he tried. You watched it slowly reach across his eyes and he shook his head. “I mean it though–a lot. I don’t think that even covers it.”

You placed your hand on his arm and squeezed it. “Don’t flatter me too much or my ego will inflate like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters—”

“WHO JUST SAID GHOSTBUSTERS.”

Dustin popped into the kitchen, looking around for the culprit. His eyes landed on you two and his eyebrows raised. “Robin’s friend Steve? Really? That’s the girl you’ve been–”

“Dustin. Enough.” Steve tensed up, cutting off the younger kid.

“No no no.” You moved out of Steve’s arms and towards Dustin. “Please, Dustin. Tell me more, the girl Steve, what exactly.”

“Dustin I swear to god—”

You looked over your shoulder at Steve and winked at him, before placing a hand on Dustin’s arm in a very similar way to how you had just touched Steve’s arm. Now, you weren’t a manipulative person by any means. But men were easy to get information out of if you just knew how.

You felt Steve’s eyes burning into you, watching your every move.

“Dustin, do you have a girlfriend?”

He looked at you weirdly but nodded. “Yeah. What does Suzie have to do with this?”

“How do you feel about her?”

Dustin’s shoulders detensed, and he tilted his head slightly. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me about her.”

Dustin, who basically never talked about Suzie anymore since he didn’t want to annoy the group, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. “Well! She’s the perfect woman. Smart, kind, snarky, bossy, gorgeous—hotter than anyone ever—sorry. But she means the world to me—.”

You nodded along, listening to everything he had to say about Suzie, even popping in with clarifying questions, or asking how they met.

“Wow, that’s a long time to be dating someone so young.”

Dustin nodded and shrugged. “When you know you know.”

Steve was just watching you, completely fascinated. There were things Dustin was telling you that he had never even heard before. But he knew you were up to something, he just couldn’t figure out what you were doing.

You nodded and cast a quick glance back to Steve, who met your eyes. “That’s true.”

Steve almost blushed at the way you looked at him when you said that, making your eyes soften for a moment. When you know you know.

“Why did you want to know about Suzie?”

“I saw you texting her earlier. I’m sorry she couldn’t be here for your graduation…”

Dustin shrugged. “She’s coming up next week for about a month so I’d rather have her for a whole month than just a weekend. Besides, we’re both going to the same college so…I’d rather focus on what we do have than not, you know.”

“You are very wise for a high school graduate Dustin.”

Dustin shrugged. “Well, I’ve been saying that for years but now I have the degree to back it up….Alright, I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’ve accepted your application into the group here.”

“Oh thank you, I was a bit worried there.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Please, you passed the second I heard the word Ghostbusters come outta your mouth.”

This made you smile. “Dustin, one last question, and then I’ll let you go back to your friends—”

“Actually, I’d much rather be in here since you seem a lot cooler than half of the people in there.”

“I appreciate that Dustin thank you. But, my question is. Does Steve look at his phone like that? The way you were describing Suzie…”

Dustin scoffed. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen him so glued to a screen before–”

“Dustin...”

You shushed Steve. “Let the man continue Harington, God.”

Dustin preened up a little bit at the sound of being called a man, making him continue. “He’s like…I’ve actually never seen him like this before. He’s always checking his phone but he’s smiling at it and laughing at things…oh…You’re good.”

You squeezed his arm before letting go. “Dustin, I need you to know that I am actually very interested in your relationship with this girl and I do hope I get to hear more about Suzie, I really do. I also appreciated the information you just gave me.”

“You’re the phone huh.”

“You’re a Genius Henderson.” Steve glared at him, definitely trying to conceal the embarrassment he was feeling.

“So Dustin, tell me more about the way he’s been acting.”

“Henderson if you don’t leave the kitchen right now–”

Dustin took a step away from you. “I like you, a lot, y/n. But I think I’ve done enough damage for Stevie over there, so I’ll leave you alone.”

You nodded and gave him a little wave as he took off back into the living room. You turned around on the spot, facing Harrington, who was all but embarrassed at Dustin exposing him.

“You smile at your phone when I text you huh?”

“Oh shut up, you knew that already.”

“It’s nice to get confirmation.” Your hands clasped behind your back, and Steve took the opportunity to walk over to you and place a hand under your chin.

Your breath? Left the fucking building, maybe even the whole state of Indiana.

“Confirmation that I liked you?”

He was lifting your chin up with just one knuckle, just enough that your head tilted up to look at him.

“I feel like what we did in the bathroom was confirmation enough.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours. “And if not, then kissing you a few minutes ago should’ve been.”

You hummed, eyes closing, expecting his lips over yours.

“You just like to tease me, huh.”

“Steve.” You whined softly, leaning forward a bit, trying to capture his lips in yours. But he just shifted back slightly, not letting your lips do anything more than ghost over yours.

“I like to tease too, ya know.” He muttered, his other hand sliding back onto your waist, pulling your body against his.

You hummed, waiting for him to make his move, giving up the little control you had moments before since the prize was a kiss.

But no kiss came. Steve Harrington dropped his hands from your waist and chin, and stepped back, grabbing his beer off of the counter and winking at you. “If it’s a game you want sweetheart, I can play it too.”

You groaned and watched as he backed out of the room, leaving you once again up against a counter and completely wound up.

A few hours later, you had found yourself rolling a joint for the older group, basically giving Eddie a masterclass in the art. He was extremely doubtful about the fact that your weed would be better than his, but when he took his first hit, Eddie Munson coughed.

The small group of you—Jonathan, Robin, Eddie, and Steve—all stared at him with wide eyes. You gently took the joint from his hand took a hit from it, and offered it to your right to Steve, who took a smaller hit than you. Since he had smoked with you before, he didn’t cough, much to Eddie’s dismay.

Jonathan gratefully took it next, muttering something about Cali Weed, which you didn’t fully catch. Eddie turned to you, eyes extremely red. “Jesus Christ Y/n. What the fuck is that?”

You exhaled slowly, impressing everyone, but Robin, with the amount of smoke in your lungs. “I say this with so much love in my heart Eddie—It’s good weed.”

Eddie went to scoff but started coughing again, causing you to smile a bit. You felt the first hit in your face, always. No matter how many times, your face was always the first. It felt slightly buzzy, like a current was pulsing through your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. You leaned against Steve, watching as the joint made its rounds.

“Nancy, not a big smoker?”

Jonathan shook his head, exhaling the smoke over his shoulder to not blow it all in your face. “Can hold her liquor better than any of us though.”

“I buy it.” You smiled, resting your head against Steve’s shoulder.

Robin stuck her tongue out at you from across the circle before taking the joint and taking her own hit.

“So Y/n.”

You hummed and darted your eyes towards Eddie.

“You told Henderson that you’ve been to many different countries, like where?”

“I don't think that would make sense even if I wasn’t slightly high and slightly intoxicated.” You laughed and shook your head. ”But, uh, I don’t know. I’ve been a lot of places. Do you want me to just start listing them until you find one you like? Like those little Rolodex things old ladies have?”

Eddie nodded, taking the joint from Robin and taking another hit, this time not coughing.

You sighed and yawned a little bit, taking the joint when it was offered to you. Instead of taking a puff, you passed it on.

“Alright so, uh, let's see. I’ve been to about twenty states, and that includes Alaska. I’ve been to Canada a bunch. I have been to the Caribbean, so a bunch of those bad boys. Where else…”

“Serbia.” Robin listed for you, causing you to nod against Steve’s shoulder.

“Serbia, Croatia, Montenegro, all three of which are gorgeous by the way. Which then takes me to Europe so uh those countries, plus obviously England, and Ireland, both Republic of and Northern. Then, let's see, France…”

“France was a good one for you.”

You nodded. “Paris was good for me in many ways.” You made suggestive eyebrows at Robin who then burst into laughter.

“Then tell us about it.”

For some reason, you were starting to feel as if Eddie wasn’t your biggest fan. Now normally, if a man didn’t like you, you couldn’t find even a singular fuck to give, but this was bugging you. Maybe because he was so close with Robin.

“Well.” your gaze hardened a bit as you looked at him. “I think I managed to spend a total of sixteen hours in the Louvre during my entire week in Paris. I spent another day seeing the rest of the Musees that I wanted to see, and then I did the rest of the touristy things the rest of the time.”

“What about the Nightlife?”

“What about it?”

“Tell us about it.”

“Eddie…” Steve warned, feeling you tense up as Eddie continued to poke and prod at you. His words weren’t sharp, they weren’t knives. But they felt like tiny little shoves across your chest.

“Steve, it’s fine.” You muttered.

“If you must know, France has good nightlife, but if you want to party, you go to Spain. If you want exclusive yet fun clubs, you go to Berlin. Anyone who’s traveled outside the continental US could tell you that.” Your jaw set, but the smile on your face was a bit devilish. “But Eddie, dear, what I get up to in foreign cities in terms of my sexuality is between me, my phone, Robin Buckley, and the whiteboard in our apartment.”

Steve gasped. “That’s what those tally marks are.”

Robin shook her head but then paused. “Well no, not...kinda I guess. But not exactly what you're thinking.”

“I slept on your couch. You dirty dirty women.” He grumbled, removing his hand from your thigh, except it was just to lean back a bit, not to move you away from him.

“We’re both extremely competitive when it comes down to the basics. Besides, Robin was the one who started it, she said that she used to tally how many swings and misses you would take at your old job.”

Steve hung his head and laughed, causing the rest of the group to laugh alongside him. “Did she tell you what that job even was?”

“Oh Scoops? Absolutely. We cut up that stupid fucking costume one year for her Halloween costume.”

“That was you!?!”

You nodded and took a sip out of the drink you had brought out. “I’m also a costume designer.” You hummed. “Multi-hyphenate.”

That joke was meant for Jonathan since it caused him to cough on the air in his lungs. “Resume building 101.”

You mock cheers’d to that and rested back against Steve’s side, his hand moving back to your thigh.

Eventually, it was just you, Robin, Eddie, and Steve left, sitting on the porch, enjoying the view of the stars. You had forgotten how stunning they could be since you had basically lived within the city for the past few years, not really going out to places where you could see the sky. It was just marvelous to you.

Robin and Eddie stood up to go, meaning you also had to go. But Robin just kissed your head and whispered in your ear before you could stand. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded, smiling at her and taking her hand in yours. “I love you, Robin Buckley. Marry me.”

This caused Robin to burst out in laughter, and she nodded at you. “It’s a date babe.” She said her goodbyes to Steve and left with Eddie who was your ride home.

The two of you sat together, with you listening as Steve told you about someone, the constellations that he knew, with you lying on his lap, while he pointed out the stars.

“And that one is Orion’s belt. It’s probably the easiest to spot since it’s literally just three stars in a row.” He whispered, not wanting to break the silence the two of you had created.

You hummed. “That’s the hunter right?”

Steve shrugged. “You probably know better than I do.”

You managed to sit up and face him, lips seconds away from him. “And what would make you say that?”

He shrugged again, no longer looking up at the stars in the sky, but rather at the stars in your eyes.

Your eyes flitted to his lips quickly, silently asking for permission, which he answered by placing them against yours. Your body exploded like the sun, radiating the peace you had felt all those months ago at the cafe, and then again in the kitchen. Neither of you moved, just sitting together like two lovers would, slowly kissing one another under the universe.

Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulled away, enjoying the sound you let out as he did so. You tilted your head slightly, leaning forward to capture his lips again in yours, but he dodged your lips and kissed your neck instead. His lips found under your ear and kissed there. “Wanna head inside.” He muttered.

You hummed a positive response, unsure of how the two of you managed to make it inside and towards his bedroom. All you could focus on was the feeling on his lips, on yours, on your neck. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your hips, brushing up your thighs, tugging on your hair.

But you found yourself backed up against his bedroom door. His body pressed into yours, kissing your neck. “Fuck me, pretty girl.”

If that’s what he wanted you to do then who were you to deny him that much? Your head lulled to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you just moaned in response. Your legs were on the ground, but the only thing really keeping you up against the door was Steve’s knee, which had made its place between your thighs.

Steve’s lips quickly found that sweet spot right above your collarbone and he gently sucked on it, causing your hips to roll forwards and your eyes to roll backward. You inhaled and arched your back the more he sucked on it, nipping it to add some color to his mark.

Steve felt as your hand snaked its way around his waist, your fingers cool against his skin. You tugged on his shirt, making him pull away slightly and rip his shirt off of his body.

Both of your hands went to his chest, so you could run your fingers across it, feeling as much of him as you could.

“Steve?” You muttered as he continued to kiss across your neck.

He paused and looked up at you.

“If you don’t do something in the next minute I’m locking you out of your room and fucking myself.”

He chuckled, pupils dilating at the thought of you touching yourself. But he shook the thoughts away and pulled you in for a kiss. “As you wish, Pretty girl.”

You hummed at his words, removing your shirt when he tapped on your back and pulled away from you for a moment.

For some power beyond man, you wore a really cute bra today. It wasn’t lingerie, but it made Steve drool all the same, causing him to groan at the sight. He didn’t stop there though, slowly pulling off your shorts and underwear causing him to kneel down in front of you. You sucked in a breath.

The sight of Steve Harrington kneeling before you to eat you out was becoming your new favorite view.

He took one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, kissing up your thigh, slowly, looking up at you the whole time.

He was looking for any kind of hesitation but instead, all he received was a “Fuck, Steve, please.”

Steve smirked at you before licking up your thigh and gently nipping at it, causing your head to tilt against his bedroom door.

Steve took his time eating you out. He teased you relentlessly, eliciting every single sound from you he could possibly discover, muttering how much of a “pretty girl” you were into your “pretty little pussy”.

His lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked over so gently. Your hips shifted forward, back on the edge of an orgasm, waiting not-so-patiently for him to make you cum all over his face.

“Come on baby girl let me taste you. I bet you taste so fucking sweet.”

“P-Please Steve.” Your eyes were squeezed shut, one had in his hair, the other shoved against the door frame for support.

The heat in your gut was winding up tighter and tighter, causing you to roll your hips, riding his face. Every time your body shuddered, you’d hit Steve’s nose just right against your clit, making you gasp a little bit.

You moaned his name out, finding yourself closer and closer to the edge as he became more and more relentless fucking you with his tongue and with his words.

He curled his tongue in the right spot, causing your body to snap.

Not a single sound left your mouth as you cum on his tongue, back arching against the door, leg shaking as Steve held you up as you came. You felt his tongue working you through, and you could have sworn he moaned at the first taste of you.

Eventually, Steve slowly pulled away, rubbing circles on your hips with his thumbs. Your high was slowly coming back down and you muttered out a ‘holy fuck’, which caused Steve to nip at your thigh. Still sensitive, you let out a moan in response before yanking on Steve’s hair gently.

He chuckled, the breath from his lips causing you to squirm a bit. What a sight you must have been: almost completely naked, covered in hickeys and marks, with a man wrapped in between your legs, up against his bedroom door.

Steve slowly let your leg down, before kissing his way back up, enjoying every little sharp intake of breath, and every little moan that got caught in your throat. He made his way to your lips and it was dirty how much you enjoyed kissing him while he still had you all over his lips. It was obscene.

“How ya doing pretty girl.” He muttered, arms wrapped around your waist, lips on yours.

You were blissed out. Every time you thought about what you just experienced, your hips twitched a little bit, and all you could do was use your hands to shove Steve’s lips further into yours. His tongue ran across your bottom lip, and you happily obliged, opening up a bit more so he could taste all of you.

When he pulled away so you could breathe, he went back to kissing your neck. “I’ve been dreaming about your taste for fucking months.”

You swore you could orgasm a second time at that sentence alone.

Steve’s fingers melted into your skin, and you were sure that there were permanent sun spots where his hand was, forever indicating where his hands should always be.

You gently pulled on his hair once again, gaining his attention. “Steve.” You muttered, rubbing your thumb up and down on his neck.

He nodded and reached over, opening the door to his room.

The two of you slowly made your way to his bed, lips on lips, hands grabbing for skin, wanting more contact than what you had.

By the time you were on the bed, your skin had become a canvas and Steve was the artist, his lips leaving little marks scattered across your skin like constellations.

Steve pulled away for a moment, sitting back on his heels, causing you to sit up. You took over his task, slowly unbuckling his belt, looking up at him the entire time. Steve licked his lips and bit his bottom one at the sight of you.

You slowly pulled it out of the belt loops and then threw it somewhere in the room. Your fingers made their way up his thighs before they popped open the button of his jeans. You could see the strain on the jeans from how hard Steve was, pushing against the fabric.

He groaned as you unzipped them before leaning back on your hands, watching him take them off. You could have sworn you started to drool when you saw his cock.

His hands almost started you as he placed one beside your head, leaning down to kiss you.

You didn’t realize that he had been wearing his silver chain this entire time, until it brushed against your collarbone when his lips connected with yours. You felt as Steve slid his knee between your legs, and his other hand cupped your cheek.

“Steve I–” You muttered against his lips, but he cut you off by kissing you again.

After a moment, he pulled away, hovering above you. “What gorgeous.”

“Please.” You whispered, feeling antsy at the fact that you hadn’t felt him yet, that he was barely touching you.

He smiled slightly. “You have somewhere to be?” He joked, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You rolled your eyes. “What if I did.”

He kissed your collarbone. “By all means.”

The top of your chest, above the bra. “Leave then.”

You let out a shuddered breath at the feeling of his mouth above your chest and closed your eyes.

“No?” He licked up your neck and nipped at the bottom of your ear. “Come on baby girl, nothing more to say.”

“F-fuck.”

He chuckled and slid his hand down to the front of your bra, undoing it with one hand. “Opens from the front…someone was prepping.”

Your cheeks turned red and you shook your head. “N-no.”

He shrugged and took it off of you. “Doesn’t seem that way, sweetheart.”

Your nipples hardened at the cool air surrounding you both, and Steve put his hand on your waist, slowly sliding up your side until he could cup your tit in his hand, giving it a squeeze.

You moaned at the contact but kept your eyes on the scene in front of you. It would be criminal to not watch Steve take his sweet time with you.

He shifted again, making it so he was able to rest on top of you, and trace designs across your chest with his tongue. It flicked against one of your nipples which made your body jump up against his.

“Sensitive?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You muttered, one of your hands making its way to his shoulder and squeezing it tightly.

He rubbed his thumb over the other nipple, flicking it. His tongue went to work, finding out everything that made you feel good, that made you moan. Once Steve had worked you up, he switched his attention to your other tit, his lips kissing across the valley of your chest.

He was teasing you, watching every single movement of your body and while you wanted to shove him back down to clean up his mess, you couldn’t help it. You had never seen a sight so intoxicatingly hot. His chain dragged around with him, adding to the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

Somehow from barely moving, you felt like your body was on fire, it was too hot. You felt too good.

“Gonna take my sweet time with you, pretty girl.” He muttered, kissing back up your collarbone. “Gonna hear every single one of those pretty sounds come out of that pretty mouth of yours. Yeah?”

All you could do was nod and close your eyes, trying not to orgasm right then and there.

He tsked and squeezed your waist. “I wanna hear it, baby. I want to hear you.”

“Yes–yes–please god yes.” Your answer poured out of you before you could even think about it. The only thing in your head was Steve Harrington. Steve’s hips, his ass, his arms, his chest, his lips, his hair, his chain, his stupid fucking smirk.

You felt him pull away for a moment, and you opened your eyes. He had gotten up and grabbed a condom, ripping it open with his teeth and tossing the wrapper somewhere. You watched as he slid it over his cock, which was already glistening with pre-cum, causing him to smirk.

“I make you excited or something, Harrington?”

He laughed as he made his way back over to the bed. “Something like that yeah.”

You leaned up slightly and captured his lips on your own, enjoying the moment of just his lips on yours.

He hummed and you felt him slowly guide himself to your entrance.

You’d never spent the whole night fucking someone, until now, and even then, you weren’t sure what you were doing was just fucking one another. Sure it started out like that, but it evolved into something more the second Steve Harrington took your hand in his and pushed into you for the first time, whispering everything he adored about you into your ear.

A sigh that could be categorized as relief left your mouth when he bottomed out, just letting the both of you get used to the feeling of one another.

He kissed your jaw before slowly pulling his hips back out.

You moaned into his ear as he started moving, your bodies moving in sync just like those cheesy books you had read told you.

Feeling good has never come so easy to you. The way Steve Harrington was kissing you, so tender, with sure care made you want to freeze the world so you could stay here forever, with him. Your moans match up to each thrust, each inhale from when he kisses the sensitive skin right above your collarbone.

The stars outside shined brighter for you, that’s what you would swear when telling your friends, that the universe quieted and the stars multiplied so you could see all of them as Steve made love to you, whispered how much he adored you, how he couldn’t wait to kiss you the moment he saw you at the airport. How he wanted to see what you tasted like the moment he first met you.

It was overwhelming, only breathing in Steve, bodies picking up the pace as you simultaneously leaned over the line, ready to snap.

You begged him, you needed him. His name falling from your lips with every single movement he made.

His hand slid down your body and slowly started toying with your clit. “Come on pretty, let me feel you. I want to feel you. You’ve been so good for me, so fucking hot baby, let me feel you.”

It snapped. The coil in your stomach snapped and you came, walls clenching down on him. Your mind went blank and your vision was filled with millions of stars that had floated in through the window and hung in Steve Harrington’s eyes.

The feeling of you caused him to quickly follow you, hips thrusting into you, making you both ride one another’s orgasms. The sound of his breath, his moans, caused another wave to crash down on you. Your back arched, jaw quivering as your chest lost all of its air. The weight of his body kept you grounded but your mind was in the clouds.

That calmness you had experienced before settled into your chest. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. There was no insatiable hunger, no need to go again (at the moment), nothing of the sort. Just a need to become inseparable, to become one whole again from two halves.

And you could tell Steve felt the same from the way he kissed your cheek and lifted his head to look at you. You both felt it. The feeling as if this was right as if you were supposed to be here with one another, as if it was written in the stars, or read through some tea leaves—you were supposed to be falling in love with Steve Harrington.

You leaned up ever so slightly, saying everything you possibly could with your lips against his, with no words being spoken. There was no need for them anyway because you just knew Steve felt the same.

______________________________________________________________________________

You spent the next week, doing your best to split your time between your best friend, and your something new. Robin was actually doing quite well adjusting to the two of you since it felt like this had always been normal.

The night before you and Robin were set to leave, Steve had taken you out by Lover’s Lake again, remembering how much you loved hearing about the stars. It was breathtaking. Truly the sky felt so vast and so big and you were standing underneath all of that with someone you truly cared about.

The night didn’t end there.

The two of you melted into one another in the backseat of Steve’s car. Skin on Skin. Stars collide in your eyes. Hands digging deeper than skin into souls.

Yet after all of that, you were still too terrified to ask the question that had been on your mind since last Friday.

What Now?

“I had been, uh, thinking.”

Steve’s thumb was rubbing against your hip, bringing your focus back to him.

“And, uh, we have to…”

You nodded.

“Steve I–”

Steve shook his head. “Let me get through this, yeah?” He whispered, almost like he was scared to even hear his own voice.

“I-I have been searching for a way out of Hawkins for a while now. I love my friends, but now that the kids have graduated and-and are moving away, I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

You brushed your hand against his cheek as a sign of comfort, not saying anything.

“I don’t want you to think I’m latching onto you because you could get me out of here. I need you to know that’s not—I have never felt more sure about anything—anyone in my entire life than I feel about you. It sounds fucking crazy to say out loud, but I swear your touch literally brings my heart rate down. Hearing your laugh is like a fucking drug and, and, I want to spend as long as I can staring into your eyes, memorizing every single centimeter of your body, watching you as you stare up at the stars. I w-want that. I want it so badly. It sounds delusional since we’ve barely spent a full week's worth of time together. But speaking it out into the universe has fucked me over so much in the past. Anytime I’d utter any true want out loud, it’d, uh, it’d disappear. But I can’t—I think I’d go batshit if I couldn’t kiss you every day. What–what I��m trying to say is that—”

You gently placed your lips on his lips, not having the words in the English language to describe the field of flowers blooming in your chest under the sunshine that was Steve Harrington.

Steve smiled and pulled away after a moment.

“You were gonna launch into the sky with the way your mouth was running.”

Steve nervously laughed and nodded, closing his eyes.

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m into you because you could be a way out of Hawkins. I need you to know that I’m seriously falling for you and I-I couldn’t be more in awe of you every time I look at you.”

Your eyes started to water and you shoved his chest. “Fuck Steve. That was…That was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.” You muttered, burying your face in his neck, to hide the fact that this man just made you so emotional using minimal words.

The two of you sat there, enjoying the company of one another, whispering sweet everythings in each other’s ears. It was everything to you. His hands on your body, his eyes locked onto yours. The thought of having to leave the next morning had you terrified since neither of you really had any idea how you were going to make this work, but you’d be fucking damned if you weren’t going to try. Steve was worth it to you. He was worth everything.

And suddenly, because of Steve Harrington, you started to believe that you were worth everything too.

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velvees-archive · 2 months ago

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can we talk about how insane 3-5 was from a narumitsu and feenris enjoyer’s perspective?

i have so many thoughts on bridge to the turnabout and miles’ top tier emotional repression throughout that case, because if the person who altered the course of my life asked ME to defend an ex they braved climbing a freezing cold mountain for and were still very obviously hung up on, i would fucking throw up. don’t even get me started on iris, miles, the psychelock scene, and the “what is mr. wright to you?” call out.

the generous use of ellipses does NOT help bro’s case.

also important: the framing of these exchanges reads like a romance novel. the love triangle? the silent resignation and unspoken words? edgeworth’s insistence that iris disclose the events of night prior with him so he can help she and phoenix reunite? the same guy who doesn’t give a damn about romance literally wingmanning phoenix for chump change?! look me in the eyes and tell me miles wasn’t even a little bit affected by this.

that “so you say” and “anyway, it seems to me like there’s something going on between the two of you” is bitter as hell. do not lie to me.

i will admit my enthusiasm stems in part from the beast that is my narumitsu getting together hc, whispering scary things into my ear like miles first subconsciously acknowledges his feelings for phoenix after larry’s call. he rushes back to the states with no intent to act on them, they simply exist in a vacuum and in perpetuity, as much a part of him as his history, or his limbs. he has no plans of exploring the tightness in his chest but then phoenix asks him for a favor. a big one. there’s a glint in his eye and his voice is tinged with desperation and oh he never had any hopes to begin with but he still feels like something’s died inside him because of course phoenix wants him to defend her and of course phoenix hasn’t removed her acolyte hood from his person and of course—

do you see the vision? the only thing that matches 3-5’s angst potential is 7 yg, and i’d say 3-5 touches upon the 7 yg dynamic already.

#narumitsu #ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #trials and tribulations #my narumitsu hcs squeeze the slow burn/pining trope to their very death #dug this bad boy up from my 20+ other drafts #vel’s fic brainstorms #do i have a wip with this concept? duh #i also don’t talk abt them but feenris is so fucking good???#not as a plot device for narumitsu but as top tier angst and longing #there is a REASON the parallels between miles and iris exist #they could never make me hate you iris hawthorne/fey #trials and tribulations spoilers #queued post

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adelheidvonschicksal · 10 months ago

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⋆｡°✩ Do Roommates Sleep Together?

“We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but the delicate foundation you built cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt. “Do roommates sleep together too?”

Synopsis: Your relationship with Xavier is unconventional, skipping and trampling on the many proper steps society deems appropriate. It should take months to form the trust needed to sleep together, and it should take years for you to ask him to move in with you.

Yet, here you are, with more courage to ask him to live with you than to tell him you’re in love with him.

Content Warning: fluff, suggestive dialogue, pining, literal sleeping together, a lot of internal exposition, mild angst, hurt/comfort, acquaintances to friends to lovers, implied soulmate tomfoolery to justify the fast burn, small references to chapter 4 main story, Heartstring Symphony, Nighttime Stroll, Shooting Stars Myth, and Unit 602's Representative Phone Call, Xavier sucks at following the non-interference policy (he tried his best), female reader, 6.5k words, safe for work

A/N: First section before Warm Wishes/Dreams within Reach tender moments and second section after Close Feelings tender moment to give a better timeframe. This is going to be two parts with the second part NSFW.

“Do you want to hang out at my place?”

Your smile begins to flatten as Xavier stares at you from his doorway. There’s a listless energy radiating from him. It’s intimidating even if there’s no anger behind his hooded gaze, the kind of intimidation where you’re afraid he might not be listening to you or even wants to listen to you.

“This new scary movie came out. Tara was supposed to watch with me, but she had a last-minute thing to take care of,” you explain, watching as he yawns and wipes his eyes. “So, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch with me instead. Or, we can do something else. I got games. Monopoly, Phase 10, Kitty Cards.”

Xavier rubs at the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eye. “Are you sure you want it to be just the two of us?”

There are many things to be said about your relationship with Xavier. You’re work partners, neighbors in the same apartment complex, and you consider him your friend. It’s also true that your friendship is young despite the many hours at the arcade together and whatever stories your co-workers like to imagine, making your offer sound more like a date invitation than hanging out. It causes you to go tongue-tied as your innocent mistake blankets you.

“Oh, not in that way! I mean not that it would be a bad thing.” You start to lose your composure when you meet his gaze again. It’s not like you wouldn’t go on a date with him if given the opportunity. He’s tall, soft-spoken, and very handsome. It’s more surprising he doesn't have a girlfriend. “I was thinking it could be a good way to foster friendship between hunters. Yeah, that’s it!”

The truth was that you were looking for something to distract yourself ever since the incident at your grandmother’s house. Tara having to cancel bummed you out more than you wanted to admit, but you didn’t want him to agree because he felt sorry for you.

“I understand,” Xavier cuts in. “I’d be happy to join you…in an hour,” he finishes with another small yawn.

“Great!” you cheer. “See you soon.”

When you make it back to the elevator, you’re taken aback about how happy you are that he agreed. You thought you were simply happy not to have to be alone on your day off, but this was a different kind of satisfaction than when you invited Tara. It was a little strange but you ignored the thought and clicked the button to your floor.

When Xavier arrives, everything goes as planned. You spread out an array of snacks on the table in front of the sofa, which your selection seems to be approved by how quickly he opens the package of chips and hums to himself when he takes a bite.

“This is supposed to be super scary! I read you won’t sleep for days after,” you tell him, grabbing the remote to play the movie.

“For days? Sounds awful,” Xavier mentions between bites, making you chuckle.

“If you get scared, you always have me to protect you.”

“I’m more worried about you than me,” he mouths off. “You always look like a statue when I tell you scary stories.”

“Fake movies and stories based on real places are different!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he agrees on the surface. You’re not sure how you only make friends with people who love to tease you, but you make no mention of it as the movie finally reaches its opening sequence.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize this movie’s fear factor was greatly over exaggerated. There were monsters, sure, but also one too many jump scares and dark scenes that made it hard to tell what was happening. Fighting wanderers for a living did leave you a bit desensitized as well, you guess.

As you reach to fill in your boredom with more chips, you can’t help but notice how Xavier looks like he’s about to give out any second. His eyes are drooping and his head bobbing to the side. You lose count of how many times he forces his limp body straight and strains to watch the movie playing on the screen, one agonizingly slow blink at a time.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can bring up how tired he looks.

“It’s not a big deal, Xavier. This movie is pretty boring, so if you wanna call it a night, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” You don’t want him to leave yet but you don't want to keep him up either. Sighing, you’re frustrated the movie isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, and it’s difficult to fight the disappointment from showing on your face.

And, well, Xavier…

“It’s alright. It’s honestly not bad, so—”

Xavier doesn’t even finish his sentence before his head hangs over. In hindsight, you start to realize that you must have woken him up earlier, explaining his prior passiveness.

You always wondered what he did on the days he wasn’t working. It should’ve been apparent to you that he spends most of his free time sleeping. No wonder his apartment was always so quiet during the day. You’re thankful he wasn’t actually annoyed at you earlier but guilty for interrupting his rest and decide to grab him a blanket.

You don’t notice him tilting to the side before you have the chance to get up. It’s quick after that. Without warning, he falls into you, his head brushing the side of your shoulder before he collapses on top of your lap.

The situation takes you by surprise, and the world churns to a slow stop. The sounds from the television fade into the background in favor of your heartbeat becoming the thing you’re most aware of when it registers that Xavier, a man you recently can call a friend, has fallen asleep in your lap. You have no idea what to do in a situation like this. It isn’t on purpose, so there’s no need to blow up, but you can’t allow this to continue.

So, you choose to wake him up.

“Xavier,” you call and rock his shoulder. You call his name again, a third time, and finally give up when he doesn’t budge by the fourth. “Would it be too mean to roll him off?” you wonder, grimacing as you imagine him hitting the floor. It would definitely be too mean.

Sighing, you gaze at his face nuzzled too comfortably against your thighs. Xavier looks so incredibly soft like this, bundled in an oversized Blanchi hoodie. It isn’t anything you’re not used to seeing him in. However, this is different. With his hair strewn across his temple and his face so at ease, it reminds you of a big fluffy bunny flopped over for an evening nap. Just like a cuddly bunny, you can’t resist petting him, brushing your fingers across his bangs to fix them. Your heart flutters as you confirm his hair is incredibly soft and his pale eyelashes longer than you ever noticed.

Not able to restrain yourself, you gently poke his cheek, marveling when it’s much chubbier than you imagined. It causes him to moan, his eyes twitching from the intrusion.

“Mm…what?” he groans out.

Swiftly, you pull your hand away, frightened he might have caught you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stammer out, not the best of excuses; but in your defense, he caught you off-guard by waking up from something so small. When he doesn’t respond again, you quickly realize he’s still asleep. “Oh, he sleep talks!”

A mischievous wave washes over you from the new piece of information you acquired. Teasingly, you poke his cheek again, giggling when he shifts to hide his eyes from the light.

“Xavier, I have a question to ask you.” You slide your fingertips along his bangs once more. “Be honest. Are you Lumiere?”

Patiently, you wait for a response. However, nothing comes after several seconds. Just when you’re about to give up hope, you hear him muttering. You lean your head closer, hoping to hear him better.

“Red…” he mumbles.

You repeat after him. “Red?”

“Red…extra spicy.”

You blink at him, knitting your brows. “Extra spicy?”

Oh. The hot pot restaurant.

“Dreaming about food? That tracks.” You shrug. It was worth a shot. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Choosing to leave him be, you’re about to sit back and continue the movie except you are interrupted by him mumbling again. This time, he whispers your name quietly under his breath causing your undivided attention to fall on him.

“Yes?” you ask.

Xavier sighs softly, peacefully.

“Come home…with me…”

There must be a world record for how fast someone can heat up, and you must have broken it. It’s like someone threw you directly into boiling oil and left you to burn in it. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

Did Xavier really ask you to come home…with him? Is he dreaming about you? If so, in what kind of dream? And why?

These are the questions stumping you. Sure, you consider him your friend, but when did he start to see you as someone close to him?

The more important question is why aren’t you doing anything about it? You aren’t angry about him whispering your name in his sleep nor offended, and it didn’t feel out of place to be close to him, like this, with his head resting in your lap and your hand in his hair. The moment becomes nicer and nicer—treasured—the more times you run it through your head, familiar even, like déjà vu.

There are too many variables for your brain to piece it all together in such a short amount of time. Praying for the tempest battering your emotional insides to reside, you resign yourself to your fate, allowing him to have his peace while your mind completely focuses on the words slipping from his dreams.

When Xavier begins to stir hours later, your movie is long finished, credits rolling as some dramatic music plays in the background. His eyes tighten then relax before he finally opens them, greeting you with hazy blue. He lifts himself into a stretch then rubs his eyes with his wrist. When he finally adjusts to his surroundings, he looks at you with an apologetic sulk.

“Did I…fall asleep on you?” he asks, grogginess still riding his voice.

“Literally or figuratively?” you ask as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him. Shaking your head, you try to ease the tension—the one known by him and the tension inside of yourself—by laughing. “It was both.”

Xavier blinks a few times, turns his head to the screen to see the credits rolling, and snaps his eyes back on you questioningly. “And you let me for two hours?”

“You looked really tired,” you explain, ignoring how hot your cheeks start to get. You couldn’t tell him you got distracted by his cute face. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”

“I don’t wake that easily,” he states, proudly even. You almost tell him how well everyone knows he can sleep through a typhoon, but it’s drowned underneath the softness of his smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The look he gives you is so tender, like looking at a fond memory. It brings back the fluttering knots in your stomach from before as you imagine what could be the true reason behind that gaze. What could he possibly be thinking in his waking moments that would make him dream about you?

“Xavier, do you know you talk in your sleep?” The confused and panicked, deer caught in headlights expression, he gives causes you to fidget with your fingers and drop your gaze to your lap where they lay.

His face tinges slightly. “Nothing too embarrassing I hope.”

You bite your bottom lip as his face reddens. He looks so sweetly shy for once, and you’re starting to question if you’re overreacting by confronting him about something as silly as a dream, one that probably didn’t mean much.

“You tried to order food in your sleep!” you tell him with a small laugh, and his shyness melts away.

“I did? What did I get?”

“Red sauce. Extra Spicy.”

“Then, I guess that’s what I’ll get for dinner tonight,” he remarks. He doesn’t laugh but you can see the amusement reflected in blue eyes, which makes you return his happiness. Yet, the calm moment is short-lived as your mind becomes overwhelmed again by questions you were too nervous to ask; and a small piece of you, too afraid to know the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing you out of your rampant, clashing thoughts. “You look sick.”

“I do?”

He nods, his expression softening.

”Are you still thinking about everything?" he pauses, his worry becoming more visible as he looks at you. "It must be difficult.” Your head blanks at his words. You weren’t aware Xavier gave you enough attention to notice your mood was different. You thought you did okay coming to terms with everything at least while at work to where he wouldn’t notice.

“It’s been a pretty rough week, weeks, actually. I haven’t been sleeping well either,” you agree, struggling to keep your mind anywhere else but there. You’re sure you must look exhausted though. Your under eyes have been darker, the days you could convince Jenna you didn’t need any more leave a bit sluggish, and even Zayne warned you not to lose yourself in grief. It’s easier said than done.

What you don’t expect is for Xavier to grab your wrist and pull you closer.

Xavier normally isn’t the one to draw you, or others for that matter, to him. You’re the one who's been taking the steps to get to know more about him. Offering to help him get his plushie, bargaining with him into becoming your partner, asking him to watch movies with you, while he always seems to keep you a little at arms length, not opening up as much as you wish when sharing stories even when sometimes he looks like he desperately wants to before deciding against it.

Your eyes widen when your nose hits the side of his chest. It's strange to have him be the one pulling, failing to keep his boundaries and also testing them. You don’t want to push him away though. You liked this. Maybe because he was handsome. You hear pretty people can get away with anything, but it feels like more than that. Tara might have been right. Maybe you do have a crush on him but you didn’t care the reason right now when it’s so comforting. You can feel his muscles underneath the thick, warm fabric of his hoodie, and the clothing smells so nice. You can’t help thinking he definitely feels like a bunny too.

“Sleeping is much better with someone.”

“How do you know?” you mumble against him.

“Well, I just had the best sleep I’ve had in days thanks to you. So, allow me to return the favor. I’ll be your pillow this time,” he offers; and surprisingly, your eyes do feel oddly heavy when his soothing voice reaches you. “Relax. I promise not to move for at least two hours, but you can take more if you like.”

”How kind,” you say with a smile, and it feels genuine.

Once again, you get the same familiar sensation from before, that same odd suspicion this has happened once before—or rather it’s supposed to happen? You’re too tired to think about it. You close your eyes to the most blissful dreams you’ve had in weeks.

When you wake up again, it’s not by choice. Xavier is looking down at you, his arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as your head lays on his chest. Your mind is still trapped halfway between being awake and asleep when he begins to talk.

“Welcome back. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “Real well actually."

Xavier says something else but your tired mind misses the majority of it aside from the fact it’s getting late.

“You can spend the night if you want,” you tell him, allowing sleep to win back over as you try to close your eyes again, but he lifts you away from him, your head swaying with the motion until you find a place to prop your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind echoes with the thought of how soft his hoodie is and how you need one like it as you try to drift back off. Xavier is right. Sleeping with someone else is better, and this closeness you’ve been missing since you lost your family makes you needy.

“It probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”

For some reason, it hurts to think he's back to pushing you away. Even though, it shouldn't.

“But you didn’t get a chance to watch the movie,” you reply, looking for an excuse for him not to leave. “It’s a 48-hour rental, so we can try again.”

Xavier shakes his head, gently poking at your forehead to force your head back. “I’m sure it’ll be twice as boring for you the second time.”

“If we watch it together…”

He meets your foggy gaze apologetically. “I don’t think we’d get very far.”

“We won’t know until we try,” you argue drowsily.

“You don’t look like you’d make it another ten minutes. You belong in bed.”

“I can,” you whimper as the too-bright lights of the overhead fan hit you.

“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result,” he murmurs softly, almost teasingly until his tone takes on a seriousness you’re too lethargic to grasp, “Isn’t that insanity?”

“I like to call it determination. Who knows? Maybe this will be the time it works,” you joke. Instead of the smile you expected the look on his face is pensive and a little sad, like you touched a delicate spot. The sudden remorse wakes you up almost immediately. “Xavier?”

When he realizes you’re watching him, the longing in his gaze melts into something you can’t describe, other than the fact it makes your heart climb in your throat.

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your surprise and relief. “Let’s try again…but tomorrow.”

Frowning, you avert your gaze, which makes him pet your head.

“Don’t pout. Tonight, I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

Maybe your grandma wouldn’t have liked you getting so close to a man you didn’t know much about so quickly. Caleb would at least have a few questions, but your intuition tells you that you’re making the right choice when his arm goes back around you. As you start to drift off, you can swear you hear Xavier laughing at you under his breath. “You’re as impossible to say no to as always.”

You’re not entirely sure what time Xavier went back to his apartment that night, but the next morning you wake in your bed, looking forward to seeing him again. You only hope the sweet and confusing fact that you’re in love with him, of the parts he shows you when you’re alone, stays in your dreams the next night and the many nights following that you share with him.

Over the months, as your relationship with Xavier grows stronger, you find it common to share many things with each other. You play online games, house sit for one another, grow strawberries, and usually go home together after your deepspace trials. Most interestingly, you two take naps together on your days off sometimes, nothing sexual about it despite what Tara and her Tarot cards believe. Sure, there might have been questionable situations, but it was all innocent in the end. It's often a short nap in the afternoon after running errands or having lunch together. It's one of those days that you finally build the courage to bring up what's been on your mind for a while now.

It's late when it happens.

The skyscraper lights begin to glow through your balcony door, blinking out the gentle shimmering of distant stars that managed to cut through the trickling rain earlier in the evening. It’s a little disappointing to lose sight of the stars. They’d become a comfort for you in the time you’ve spent with your friend. You'd never given them much thought before then.

The downpour of rain splattering against the glass panels of the balcony makes the city lights milkier to your sight and the steady dripping of water returns some form of calmness when paired with your neighbor’s breathing next to you.

It’s deep and warm, ushering you towards the world of dreams. Everything about Xavier is like a white noise or a desperately needed hug, which is why you’re curled up at his side in this bed that’s too small for the both of you. You didn’t care, and you suspected Xavier didn’t either.

He didn’t mention the smallness of the bed when you offered to take a nap together nor when your head found the bulge of his bicep to use as your pillow. You didn’t give him time to respond when one of your hands slid across his lean chest, reaching for his always subtle pulse. You find the lazy pattering easy to count while the heat in the sheets become much more apparent when you feel the weight of his touch cradle that very same hand to his chest as if promising every beat to you.

Everything about the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. In case this is all an elaborate dream. You hope to death it’s not. So, you force your eyes to remain open, releasing a soft sigh instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier slipping further away from you.

You don’t want him to go yet. More than ever, a force inside you needs him to stay tonight, and you lock your grip on the white knit shirt he wears. You tug him back over to you to close this unbearable distance he made. The few little inches he moved were more than enough to cause your heart to yearn.

“Not yet,” you want to plead but make it a soft demand. “I just found the perfect spot.” You muffle the neediness of your requests into his skin, though your head is afraid that somehow he’ll feel it.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

Xavier gives in so wonderfully quickly. Your heart is rapidly firing when the corners of his lips turn into his usual waif-like smile. You fail at hiding your satisfaction at his surrender, pressing more of your weight against him, in a sure sign to him that you have no intention of letting him escape any time soon.

“I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “And don't pretend like you weren't the one who kept saying he didn't feel like getting up earlier.”

“And now that I do, you won’t let me up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

There’s a beat skipping in your chest when he asks. His tone is light and open, easy to treat as a teasing joke but also firm enough to be taken seriously. That was always your trouble with him. You could never quite tell what he was thinking and when he was serious. Xavier is hard to understand sometimes, sometimes vague and sometimes very straightforward in his words; and lately, you think he’s consistently more hot than cold towards you ever since the first time you've slept together.

You like to think this development is a good thing. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart; but with Xavier, you could relax. Moments like these: when his arm was around you and when his breath was at the side of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. You have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. Or, you’d like to think he does with the way he constantly seems to hint at it. He can make you flustered with a few words and easily leave you guessing if you’re reading too much into his actions or if he’s really that good at baiting you. It could also be a little of column A and a little of column B, which somehow makes you more antsy around him. Like how you feel now when his eyes meet yours.

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” you whisper. It’s a poor excuse but the only one you can use to defend yourself. “They say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable.”

His ears tinge in a lovely rose-colored blush, and you shudder when he finally fails to maintain eye contact and quickly scans your body. It’s slow enough for you to catch though. It makes your chest tight as you watch his quiet inhale and the murky flash of want dye his eyes shades darker before they fade back into clear pools of blue, big and pleading as he studies your face.

“I might end up falling asleep here.”

It’s a warning, to make you think about the meaning of your actions, you think. However, this isn’t the first time this has happened nor the first time you spent a rainy day inside with each other; the kitchen counter lined with empty take-out trays, with his body heat radiating into you while a long-forgotten movie plays in the background.

It’ll continue like that until one of you is finally coherent enough after drowsy naps to try to piece together who fell asleep on whom first or who is making the other too hot. Neither of you wants to accept the fault without a lot of bickering; that’s if Xavier doesn’t fall back asleep mid-debate.

Even this time, you’re not sure who managed to drift off to sleep first earlier but neither of you tried to get up, let alone leave the house, until now. Ah, but it was your idea to use the bed this time, wasn’t it?

But it was his choice to agree.

Even now, he looks very peaceful nestled with you, and he still whispers your name in his sleep sometimes, which reminds you of the first time you slept together and he dreamt about wanting you to come home with him.

When you’re like this, you want the same thing. You want him to come home…with you.

“Xavier?” you ask quietly. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep already like he said. Carefully, you free your hand from his hold, slide it up his chest, and begin to draw smooth circles with your pointer finger once you reach his cheek. There’s a soft response from him, barely a moan but it’s enough to know he’s not out of it yet, at least not completely. “I’ve been thinking.”

The air is suddenly stifling when he engulfs the top of your hand with his own, holding it tighter as if he’s upset that you moved it out of his grasp in the first place, but it’s not the case as he affectionately seals your palm against his cheek.

“About what?”

The look he gives you makes it hard not to stumble over your thoughts like a schoolgirl despite being very much an adult.

“Wouldn’t…” You pause to steady your voice; you have to force yourself to not avoid his gaze, but each small movement makes your throat tighten. There’s no doubt you have his full attention now, at least what little remains of it. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we…move in together?”

You’re not sure where the courage to ask him a question like that comes from when you’re too unsure to even confess or to ask what the two of you even are but you didn’t have this fear of rejection until now.

“How would it be easier?”

“Well,” you start, unsure why you’re surprised that he’d want a reason. “We’re always visiting one another, and you made me your representative at the tenant meetings, so everyone already treats us like we’re a combined unit. It would also save me trips on watering your plants when you’re away or when you want to come over to eat. We could save money. Money that could be spent at the arcade or on more hot pot.”

There’s a quiet atmosphere that makes you too uneasy. The thrumming of rain grows louder in it along with the beating in your chest that’s telling you that this was stupid. Is it possible to be drunk on endorphins? Perhaps that’s what gave you the idea to ask something so foolish; you’d have to get Zayne to examine your empty head and tell you.

But then, Xavier smiles.

“Those are good reasons especially more hot pot, and I’m sure all the plushies would feel better if they shared a home again.”

Your anxiety lessens and you share in his smile. Luckily, you managed not to ruin everything it looks like.

“But.” Slowly, the inklings of self-doubt begin to return. A but. There’s always one of those. You should’ve expected as much. “If we move in together then we wouldn’t really be “neighbors” anymore.”

“Oh, um—” You become staggered by his observation, even more so when he interlocks your fingers. It’s another time when you’re not entirely sure if he’s being serious or not. His innocent puppy-eyed expression doesn’t help you differentiate either. It always makes your mind wander to more inappropriate topics—like the fact Xavier told you he didn’t believe that other neighbors acted like you two. The memory nearly makes you squirm. In this position, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but that delicate foundation cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt.

“Do roommates sleep together too?”

There’s a shine of amusement that makes his face glow and heat claw higher up your neck. You know the question should be taken literally but when he words it like that…with that warm implicative inflection to his voice, you’re unable to think properly, and you realize that maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“I’m sure some do,” you answer with some courage, “I’d imagine at least once a week.”

“I believe we’re up to twice a week now. So, if we become roommates, I think we have to do it at least that many times, otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer.”

“Two times?” you repeat, silently begging the flapping of butterflies in your stomach to calm down at the suggestion, at the implication that he enjoys sleeping with you just as much as you do with him. It makes this strong emotion in your chest blossom even further. “I can manage that.”

“Additional proposal,” he interrupts suddenly. “Perhaps, three times? I can even throw in a pair of those fuzzy socks that I can never manage to find after you visit,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around your apartment somewhere,” you quickly respond before releasing the buildup of nervous air in your lungs. You smile. “Proposal accepted. Shared naps three times a week minimum.”

“In that case,” he breathes in softly, and he slips his hand down releasing all your fingers except for your pinky that he wraps into his own. “I think I would like to be your roommate.”

Inside, there’s unadulterated joy beginning to flood you. You know that this agreement will require a more in-depth discussion that Xavier will probably try to gloss over but this is enough for you right now.

“We should take tonight to practice for our move.”

Confused, you raise your eyebrows. “Practice?”

He nods.

“Sleeping together overnight. We did a few times before, well, only twice in the same bed, once in yours and once in mine,” he explains. You definitely have the clearest memory of that time, of bandaging his wounds, of cluelessly pinning him down shirtless on his bed before he turned the tables on you, and then—you remind yourself to resist going over the details, not with him this close to you. Somehow, Xavier is the one who looks the most insecure between the two of you. Finally, he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten even if it was a long time ago.”

His eyes are half-lidded, cloudy with thought. Something about him looks restrained and longing but it disappears when you finally swallow your swelling emotions and call out his name. There’s a twinkle of adoration that blows away whatever doubt there as he focuses on you again.

“I think about it when I have a hard time sleeping on overnight missions.” Xavier turns and slides his arm from under your head, choosing to lay on his side to face you. “It makes it a lot easier to rest in the hunting zones when you have good memories like that. So, it's nice to have a chance to make more."

“I don’t think I could fall asleep at all if I thought of something like that,” you admit, as close to an admission of your love for him as you could muster without mountains of alcohol. “I’d just think about how much I’d rather be home with them.”

“And now? Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asks huskily, and you have to fight not to keep staring at his lips and the dire need to kiss them as you breathe each other in. You reach out, touching his bare collar then instinctively searching for his slow pulse, counting it to calm yourself from the rush of adrenaline building in you.

You’re not even sure when you breathed out the “yes” that echoes softly from your mouth. His lips are so close to yours that you’re sure he could catch it in his breath if he wanted.

“How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” He sees your hesitation and laughs under his breath. “I promise it’ll be much better than the last one.”

Accepting his offer, you agree to listen to him.

Xavier nods and gently swoops the back of his hand against your forehead and then your cheek before cupping it. There’s a gentle squeeze, and you think you understand why he likes it so much when you do it.

“Once, there was a beautiful queen and a knight,” he begins. “They lived together in a palace far away.”

“And they fall in love and live happily ever after?” you question, too busy in the full and fuzzy sensations filling your being to hold back.

“No, they were separated from each other for a long time,” Xavier corrects but his expression softens at the trickling concern building on your face. “Don’t worry. They meet again and become neighbors.”

“And then?”

“They become roommates,” he states matter-of-factly, which causes you to chuckle at him. You can’t even be bothered to care that he’s poking fun at you.

“Then, happily ever after?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers, causing you to frown and your face to wrinkle with a sullen expression. His head tilts further into the plush of the pillow. “But you can help me figure out the ending.”

Feeling exhausted from the cathartic flow of emotions from him to you, you wiggle into him and throw your arm across his waist. “There’d probably be a lot of naps and stargazing involved,” you mumble before a tiny yawn.

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. It's good to finally see it,” he agrees, and you sigh when you feel a strong squeeze around your waist. “Although, you forgot to mention the part where the queen promises to not get out of bed without waking him this time.”

You giggle. “She promises not to get up without her knight.”

Content, he hums. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"I think so after a story like that," you confess, reaching out to brush his hair back so you can see his eyes more clearly. "Then again, I always sleep good with you."

"You’ll sleep best when we're close, right?"

You gasp when he shifts on top of you. His lips briefly brush your forehead, by accident or not, you can’t tell as he pins you between himself and the bed. With a stutter, you call out his name yet he pays no heed as he nuzzles his head into your hair.

“Good night, roommate.”

“Xav-!” You pout when he instantly slumps against you. There’s no point trying to wake him up now that his five minutes of alertness have long expired.

Settling your chin against the top of his shoulder, you hook your arms under his to hug him against your chest. Your forearms settle at his mid-back as you hold him close so you can gently brush the ends of his hair.

When you ultimately decide to give in minutes after him, it’s to the warmth of his weight on top of you, the tickle of his hair against your forehead, and the increased pulsing of his heart. Xavier was right, this is too comfortable. Letting your eyes fall close, you wonder if three times a week would really be enough to satisfy this strangely familiar craving. You only wish that the two of you could meet in your dreams like he says, but it's enough knowing you'll have each other in the morning and then on.

“…Good night, Xavier. Sweet dreams,” you whisper before you too give into sleep’s spell.

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