#Robin x Twin!Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drops-of-june · 4 months ago

Text

SEASON II — EPISODE I: CHANGES

I don’t own the characters, this fanfic is based on the TV-Show Stranger Things (second season) from a Hargrove!Reader POV.

Quick reminder to readers, I'm not a english native speaker, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. Hope you understand.

You are not allowed to translate/repost inside or outside tumblr this fanfic. I will upload the fanfic in ao3, in my account.

TRIGGER WARNING: Subtle mentions of violence.

Summary: The first school year at Hawkins ends. As they say that when cycles come to a end, new opportunities open up.

Words: 6.2K

SEASON II — EPISODE I: CHANGES

'Come on... It can't be that bad.' Y/n commented, glancing towards Steve's bathroom door, which remained closed.

'I look ridiculous.'

Y/n was lying on Steve's bed and had been waiting for him to finish getting dressed, which he had already done ten minutes ago but he refused to leave the bathroom.

Steve's room had changed a bit since the first time she had visited him. By then it was a room that didn't reflect who he was at all. It was almost like a hotel room, with no hint of his personality other than a small picture of a car. Too... perfect. Now, he had taken a small step forward, and had studded some posters on the walls.

Y/n stared at the wall for a few seconds, as the image of Larry Bird stared back at her.

'It can't be that bad...'

'Electric blue is not my color.' He complained, causing her to roll her eyes. 'And this hat is stupid, why should we wear it?'

'Come on, I promise not to make fun.' She encouraged him.

'Liar.' Y/n, who was already losing patience and getting desperate, pulled herself straight up as she heard the door open and Steve shuffled out, his shoulders slumped. Y/n watched him for a few seconds and in silence. 'Come on... mock me.'

'Harrington, it's just a graduate robe and cap you'll wear for a few hours, it won't hurt you. Besides we'll all go the same. And blue suits you.’

After he took one last look at himself in the mirror, and took off his uniform, they set off for school.

It was a sunny day in late May 1985. The warm breeze brought with it a sense of change and new beginnings as the Hawkins High School seniors prepared for graduation. The basketball court was decorated with balloons and congratulatory banners, and white chairs lined up in perfect symmetry, awaiting the graduates and their families.

On the court, families and friends were already taking their seats. Susan and Neil Hargrove sat in the front row, next to Max, in the area reserved for family members.

In the bleachers were y/n's friends, including Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant, ready to cheer enthusiastically. Eddie had fallen short of graduation requirements, so he would have to stay another year. A few seats down, Dustin was with his friends, but he seemed to be the most excited of all, cheering every time someone familiar walked by. Nancy and Jonathan were also present, to support Steve and y/n.

The principal approached the podium and began his opening speech, talking about the accomplishments of the class of '85 and the challenges they had overcome. The names of the graduates were called out one by one, and rounds of applause filled the air.

'Thomas Hagan.' Applause rang out as the boy went by to pick up his diploma and shook hands with the principal and teachers on stage.

'Y/N Hargrove.' The girl walked to the stage with a mixture of nervousness and pride. When she received her diploma, a little chaos erupted from the bleachers as y/n's friends began to shout her name.

'Let's go y/n! Do it for me!' She could hear Eddie's voice above the applause, making her smile even wider.

'You did it, y/n!' shouted Max, jumping out of her seat.

'Billy Hargrove,' Principal Higgins continued, trying to stop the noise.

' Got it, Billy!" Max cheered him on as well, as the audience applauded. Billy walked with his characteristic confidence onto the stage. The applause was equally deafening. Neil, still stoic, but Susan and Max smiled proudly as Billy received his diploma.

Finally, it was Steve's turn. He walked confidently to the stage, and when he received his diploma, he gave a little exaggerated bow that made everyone laugh. His friends clapped and cheered for them once again.

Once all the students had been named, the principal cleared his throat before announcing.

'I present to you all, the class of 1985.'

After a dinner out, the Hargroves returned to their home. While everyone was already asleep, the twins were in the kitchen cleaning up the coffee cups that were used upon arrival.

Y/n could feel the tension in the air. The same tension he had felt for days now.

Billy had been acting strangely for the past several days, as if he were carrying a secret he couldn't share. Since march, when they both turned 18, he seemed more distant, nervous and lost in his thoughts.

Y/n noticed it right away. She was his twin sister, after all, and she could read him better than anyone else. Finally, she decided to confront him.

'Billy, you're making me nervous.' She folded her arms, looking at him with a mixture of concern and determination. 'What's the matter with you? I know something's on your mind, but I have no idea what it is.' Billy avoided her gaze, pretending to be concentrating on properly rinsing the small spoons.

'It's nothing, y/n. I'm just... thinking about things.' He didn't make up a lie, he knew that with his sister they were no good. He'd never been able to lie to her no matter how much he wanted to, it was almost a skill she had for detecting them.

Y/n frowned, moving a little closer, and looked around in case they were being overheard by Neal or Susan, and lowered her voice, willing herself not to let the subject drop.

'You're thinking of leaving, aren't you?' Billy looked up quickly, his eyes reflecting surprise and a little fear. He shook his head, but the lie was obvious.

'No, it's not that...' She let out a sigh and put a hand on his shoulder.

'Billy, I'm your sister. I can see when something's bothering you. And if you're thinking of leaving, that's okay. I understand.' Billy pursed his lips, his eyes full of conflict. He was surprised, because he thought she was going to be angry with him. Many years ago they had made a promise to leave when they came of age, but things changed when Max and Susan came along, and the plan had been postponed until they found a solution. Now that they were older, they were not hindered by their father. Billy feared that if he told his sister he wanted to leave, she would think he was going to leave her alone with Neal.

'I don't want to leave you alone, Sundance. It's not right to make you go with me either, I know you've accomplished a lot here, and you have your friends. You figured out how to fit in here. But I...' She hugged him, interrupting whatever he was about to say. Silently, he hugged her back. Moments later, she spoke to him still in a low voice, almost a whisper.

'Don't worry about me, okay? Neither is it right for you to stay here alone because of me. This is your moment. You need this, and I'm going to always support you in whatever you decide to do.'

Billy looked at her, his expression softening a little.

'And what will you do with Neal?' He asked, glancing toward their father's room. She shrugged, but with determination in her eyes and downplayed it with a wave of her hands.

'Screw Neal, I'll deal with it. And I promise I'll get out of here too. But for now, you need this more than I do.' She took her brother's hand and led him to his room. She fetched a bag from under the bed and together, they packed Billy's belongings in silence, each movement laden with pent-up emotion. When everything was ready, they went to the entrance until Billy stopped at the door with a thud.

'Max...' He said, worried.

'She'll understand. Don't worry.' She told him, reassuring him. 'I'll explain it all to her.'

'Tell Madmax I'll miss her, and tell her to be good.' He walked over to his sister and hugged her one last time, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. 'I'll let you know as soon as I get a place, y/n/n. I promise.' She hugged him tightly one last time, feeling the weight of goodbye on her chest.

'You'd better. Take good care of yourself, Butch. And be happy.' Billy nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

'You too, Sundance. We'll meet again soon.'

The girl watched him as he climbed into the Camaro, the engine roaring in the quiet Hawkins night. She watched him drive away slowly, the sound of the car fading into the distance. As the Camaro's taillights disappeared, Y/n felt a mixture of sadness and hope. She knew her brother was embarking on a journey to a better life, and that was what really mattered.

The cold night wind enveloped her as she stared out at the empty road, lost in thought. She remembered the difficult times they had gone through together, from her mother's departure to Neal's abuse. But she also remembered the laughter shared, the dreams whispered in the dark, and the promise of a better future. She breathed in deeply, feeling a new determination grow inside her. She knew her time would come, too. And when it did, she would be ready to embrace her own freedom and happiness, just as Billy was doing now.

As she walked back to the house, y/n felt an unexpected relief. She knew the wait wouldn't be easy, but she was certain it would all be worth it. She crawled into her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of the days to come. Even though her brother was no longer by her side physically, she felt his support and love stronger than ever. And that gave her strength to carry on.

***

1974, April 13. California.

Silence reigned in the Hargrove house. In one of the bedrooms, however, someone was stirring between the sheets. The room had walls painted in a warm shade of olive dappled green and geometric wallpaper in shades of burnt orange and earthen brown.

The room belonged to Hargrove twins.

A bunk bed was next to the window, through which a little moonlight filtered in, faintly illuminating the floor covered with toys and books.

From the top bunk bed peeked out one of the boy's hands, Billy, as he tended to fall asleep all sprawled out. Judging by his breathing, he was in a deep sleep.

However, y/n in the bottom bed, she had woken up with a dry throat. Not wanting to make noise so as not to cause trouble or inadvertently wake Billy, she got out of bed and went downstairs in search of orange juice. The silence in the house was total, broken only by the light creaking of the wood under her feet. She opened the refrigerator door and drank straight from a bottle, enjoying the cold liquid that calmed her thirst.

As she was about to go upstairs again, she heard a sobbing sound that made her stop in her tracks. Her heart began to beat faster as she quietly approached the source of the sound. The dim light from the kitchen illuminated the figure of her mother, Amanda, standing by the back door with a suitcase in her hand, ready to leave.

Amanda tensed as she heard y/n's footsteps, but when she saw that it was her daughter, she seemed relieved. For an instant, something in her face changed, as if she realized something important.

'Do you want to go for a ride, princess?' asked Amanda in a low voice, with a shaky smile. She had a fresh bruise on her cheek. Y/n looked at the suitcase in her mother's hand and the smile disappeared from her face.

'Are you leaving?' she asked, her voice full of fear and confusion, with too much understanding for her young age. Amanda nodded slowly.

'Yes, my love. I need to go. I want you to pack your backpack with the most important things. Let's go.' y/n's heart filled with a mixture of hope, and excitement.

'I'm going to wake Billy,' she said, turning toward the stairs.

'No!' Amanda said quickly, grabbing her arm. 'It's just us going. Billy can't come.' Y/n let go of her mother's hand, backing up a step.

'Why can't Billy come?'

Amanda tried to explain, her eyes filling with tears. 'It's complicated, princess. Men have it in their blood. It's better this way.' She seemed to be talking more to herself than to her daughter, as if trying to convince herself it was for the best.

Y/n shook her head, not understanding too much, just knowing she couldn't leave her brother alone. Not with Neal.

'I'm not leaving without Billy.' Amanda took a breath, closed her eyes in grief. Then she reached over, trying to give her one last hug, but y/n pulled away.

'Please, baby.' She begged, reaching out for her, but the girl stepped back again. Y/n watched with a broken heart as her mother walked out the back door, disappearing into the darkness of the night, leaving her and her brother with the monster in the house. She felt as if a gaping void opened up inside her. She didn't understand why her mother had decided to leave. All she knew was that life as she knew it had just changed forever.

What happened that night, became a secret between her and her mother. The only secret she kept from Billy, to protect him. A moment that broke the connection she thought she had with her mother, and an event that marked her as a person.

Y/n had learned not to be emotionally dependent on others easily, keeping an emotional distance that allowed her to protect herself. Although she had close friends, she rarely opened up completely, keeping her innermost thoughts locked away for fear of being abandoned or betrayed again.

The idea of fully trusting someone had become an imposing mountain to climb, and though she longed for comfort and genuine connection, she always kept a part of herself reserved, like a reflection of the child who had decided to keep quiet about the truth to protect her brother.

***

The next morning after Billy’s departure came with a deceptive calm. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when y/n got up, feeling the weight of the previous night still on her shoulders. She quietly made her way around the house, trying not to wake anyone as she prepared breakfast. However, she knew that this moment of quiet would not last long.

Moments later, Neal came down the stairs, his expression stern and his frown more pronounced than usual. She watched him as she poured herself a cup of coffee, trying to keep her own expression neutral. She knew the inevitable question was about to arise.

'Where's Billy?" asked Neal suddenly, his voice cutting. She looked up, meeting his gaze.

'I don't know… did you check his room?' she asked, innocently. Neal narrowed his eyes.

'If I ask, it's because he's not in his room. His car's gone, and his stuff's gone. It's empty. Don't tell me you don't know anything.'

Y/n shrugged, keeping her tone calm.

'I have no idea. I just woke up. He must have gone out while we were sleeping. I'm not with him around the clock to check on him.'

Neal snorted, clearly dissatisfied with her answer, but without further evidence, he couldn't question her any further. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, muttering something between his teeth.

Max, who had been watching from the doorway, approached her. Her eyes were full of questions, but the eldest only smiled softly at her, trying to convey calmness. It was a silent conversation. Max looked at her for a moment, and a slow, happy smile spread across her face.

'I'm happy for him. He deserves to be happy.' Y/n smiled back, feeling a comforting warmth in her heart.

'Yes, he does.' Seeing that Neal wasn't around, she approached Max and lowered her voice. 'He left you greetings, and told you to behave yourself.' Max nodded, her grin lingering as she sat down at the table.

It was already dark by the time she found herself automatically getting into her car. She felt the lump that had formed in her throat the night before growing larger and larger, cutting off her breath.

In other circumstances she would have turned to Sam, the only person who had managed to break through that wall she had built around herself for protection. But at that moment, four hundred miles away, he wasn't an option.

The girl's mind was weighing the possibilities. Max was completely out of the question. Y/n wanted to appear strong to her, and it was the main reason she left the house in search of relief.

She considered Gareth. In the months they had been in a relationship, the boy had proven to be attentive and caring. She knew he would understand her, but she dismissed it as not wanting to worry him.

She also thought about Steve. But at the time he had his own problems to deal with, after his father refused to pay for his college. Y/n wasn't looking to be another burden, and bother him with silly things.

She stopped her car at the trailer park and got out of the car with bated breath. Y/n approached Eddie's trailer, her steps faltering. Tears had begun to spill, incessant down her cheeks and her face was pale. With a shaky knock, she knocked on the door. Eddie, with his trademark smile and the relaxed vibe that always accompanied him, opened the door, but noticing that she was crying, his expression changed to total concern.

'Hey, y/n/n... Are you okay?' He asked, taking a step towards her, offering her his hand to pass. She entered the caravan timidly and stood at the entrance.

'Sorry...I didn't know where to go.' She looked inside guiltily but Eddie put a hand on her shoulder.

'Wayne's not here, relax. What happened? Why...?' he asked, looking at his friend. She closed her eyes and he wrapped her in his arms, lovingly, and stroked her hair gently. 'It's all right... you can tell me...' He murmured. Y/n didn't know where to start, so she just clung to him until she could control the sobs a little.

She felt kind of silly for feeling this way. She knew it had been the best thing for her brother, and she had even helped him put his suitcase together, but it didn't stop hurting.

'Did Gareth do something to you? Did he hurt you? Because I swear that even if he is my friend, I will hang him by the ba...'

'No. No. It's not that. It wasn't him.' She clarified quickly, pulling away from the embrace. 'It's Billy... he left...' She explained, and Eddie pulled her towards the table to sit down. 'I know he needs it. Getting away from Neal was what we always wanted...' Eddie was somewhat aware of her friend's family situation, so he nodded silently, letting her talk. 'But...' She laughs lightly. 'I must look stupid to be crying about this.’

'Hey... You don't have to explain, angel.' He said taking her hand, pressing it affectionately. 'And it's not stupid, you were together your whole life... it's completely understandable.' He reassured her. Y/n wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and Eddie got up to offer her some napkins, not finding any, with a slightly awkward gesture he offers her a roll of toilet paper, causing her to let out a laugh. 'Sorry, it's all we have.' She thanks him, taking some and wiping her face with it. 'Would you like some coffee?'

'I'd love to, thank you.'

Eddie went into the small kitchen of the caravan as his friend settled herself at the table, trying to regain her composure. The soft light inside the caravan contrasted with the darkness of the night outside, creating a comforting atmosphere.

As the coffee brewed, Eddie glanced back, noticing how she surveyed the space with a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. Y/n curiously observed the mugs and caps hanging on the wall and smiled slightly. It looked like an interesting collection.

The noise of his friend working in the kitchen was the only thing interrupting the silence.

Finally, Eddie returned with two steaming mugs and sat down across from y/n.

'Here you go,' he said, pushing a mug toward her. 'I hope it helps you calm down a bit.' She took the mug gratefully and took a sip, appreciating the warmth the drink provided. She looked at Eddie, feeling a little more reassured by his comforting presence.

'Thank you, Eddie. I don't know what I'd do without you at times like this.'

'Anytime, rockstar.' After a moment of silence. He spoke again, cautious this time, as if he was hoping he wasn't saying something out of line. 'And what will you do now?'

She played with the spoon in the cup for a moment, thinking silently.

'I can't leave Max alone.' She began. 'But I'd like to do the same as Billy...though I like Hawkins… I don't know if I'd go far.'

'I wouldn't let you.' Eddie jokingly admitted, with a friendly smile. 'I'm not like Sam, I'd drag you by the balls to Hawkins again.' He commented, causing her to laugh. She took a sip of the infusion and after a moment, spoke again.

'I've been saving...it's not enough to buy a house, but...maybe if I find a better job I could get money together faster.' She admited as she thought aloud and Eddie stood up to look for something. 'I hear there's a mall opening up in town. Maybe I'll apply for a job there, they can probably pay me a little more.'

Eddie sat back down and left a card on the table.

'A few weeks ago this guy came through the park… he was offering some new caravans, but maybe you can get something in your price range...' He offered. y/n's eyes lit up.

'Are you saying you want me as a neighbor?' She asked giving him a friendly punch on the arm. 'You're going to regret it.' She joked, making him laugh.

'It would be an honor to have you as a neighbor, rockstar.' He admitted with a smile.

Even though summer was just about to begin, the heat was beginning to make itself felt on the streets of Hawkins. The sun was shining brightly, promising long, hot days, and the air was heavy with a mixture of seasonal anticipation and laziness. The new shopping center, Starcourt Mall, was about to open its doors to the public, and the entire town was talking about little more than its upcoming inauguration.

In the parking lot, Steve and y/n were still inside the car. She already had experience working, but for Steve, this would be his first time applying for a job. So she kept trying to give him encouragement before getting out of the vehicle.

'Come on... It's not as hard as it looks.'

'But what if I get rejected? What if I don't get a job?'

'We'll resort to my plan B. I'm not going to leave you alone on this one...'

'What's plan B?' He asked curiously. She wrinkled her nose, and narrowed her eyes, letting on that it wasn't something to her liking. 'Y/n...' Steve had gone pale, looking like he was about to throw up.

'For you it wouldn't be anything bad...' she promised, closing her eyes. A shiver ran down her spine. Opening her eyes again, she looked at Steve with determination. 'But it won't be necessary. Because you'll do fine, you'll see...' She paused, but he still didn't look convinced. 'Harrington, you took on demogorgons and demodogs. This is a piece of cake.'

They both got out of y/n's car, and started walking towards the building.

'If it wasn't for my father I wouldn't have to be doing this.' He muttered.

'Steve, don't worry so much. Not getting into college isn't the end of the world. And I'm sure you only wanted to get in because it's what you're supposed to do, not because you really want to.' She said with a comforting smile. Steve sighed and smiled back, grateful for her support.

'I guess you're right... '

'I usually am...' She murmured winking at him, and making him laugh.

As they walked through the automatic doors, their eyes widened in amazement. The lobby was a large, bright space, the polished marble floor reflecting the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. In the center, a fountain adorned with colored lights spurted water, and they couldn't help but pause for a moment to admire the scene.

As they walked down the wide aisles, y/n felt like a little girl in a candy store. On either side, stores attractively displayed their wares. The clothing windows were decorated with mannequins displaying the latest fashion trends. Y/n smiled at the sight of a record store with a vinyl and cassette section, imagining her friends getting excited to see the selection of music.

The aroma of food guided them to the second floor, where the large food area offered a variety of dining options. From burger and pizza restaurants to Asian and Mexican food joints, the air was filled with enticing smells that made their stomachs growl. Tables and chairs arranged around an open space with decorative plants gave the place a cozy, relaxed atmosphere.

Steve and y/n stopped and parted ways, wishing each other luck. The girl already knew where she would try her luck first.

She entered the lobby of the movie theater, and looked around the place curiously. There was definitely more room than at the Hawkins cinema, and it more closely resembled the movie theater where she worked in San Diego. On one side of the lobby, there were a couple of ticket booths with glass windows where visitors could buy tickets. Off to the side, near the entrance to the theaters, the concession stand offered a tempting array of popcorn, soft drinks and candy.

Y/n walked toward who she thought was the manager, a middle-aged man with glasses and a welcoming smile. The man was talking to someone y/n instantly recognized. Kyle, her former co-worker from the Hawkins movie theater. When the manager looked up, Kyle turned and saw her enter. His expression went from curiosity to surprise and then to a warm smile.

'Y/n! I can't believe you're here too,' exclaimed Kyle, coming over to greet her. 'Mr. White, this is y/n, one of the best employees we ever had at the Hawkins movie theater. If anyone knows how to run a movie theater, she does. She's helped me more times than I've helped her.' He admitted, putting an arm around her shoulders.' Y/n couldn't help blushing and shook her head. Mr. White looked at her with renewed interest.

'Really? 'Well, it sounds like you have an excellent recommendation. Let's go to my office for the interview.'

The manager's office was decorated with classic and new movie posters, and a small plant in the corner gave it a cozy feel. Y/n sat in a chair across from him, feeling more confident as the conversation progressed. She had answered all the questions with ease, highlighting her experience working in movie theaters in both California and Hawkins. She told him about how she had managed box offices, supervised the cleaning of the theaters, and assisted in organizing special events. Her previous experience seemed to impress the man.

'I see you have quite a bit of experience in the field,' Thomas White said, reviewing her resume. 'That's exactly what we're looking for. We want someone with your knowledge and skills to be in charge of less experienced employees. Someone who can guide them and make sure everything runs smoothly.' She nodded, feeling relieved and excited at the same time.

'Oh... That's too much responsibility.' She started, but offered him a hand. 'I promise I won't let you down.'

When she came out of the interview, she was surprised to find Steve waiting for her.

'Did you get it?' He asked encouragingly. She smiled and held up in the air in her hand the new uniform she was to wear for the job, folded neatly into two plastic pouches.

'And you?' she asked, curious. But in his gaze she discovered that he had either been unlucky, or else had fled the quest in a cowardly manner. She folded her arms.

'I've already been told no by three different businesses. I can't sink any lower.'

'Then you keep trying.' She said taking him by the arm. 'You can volunteer as bait for some killer critters from a alternate dimension, but you can't take on a couple of managers?' she asked, forcing him to walk. She stopped in front of what appeared to be an ice cream shop.

'How about here?' She asked, tugging lightly at his shirt sleeve. Before waiting for an answer from him, she dragged him into the shop and hit the little service bell over the counter. From the door behind the display, a boy came out and upon seeing them he seemed surprised, he seemed to be waiting for someone else.

'Oh, good morning, are you here to look for work? I'm sorry to tell you that we only have one vacancy at the moment.' He commented somewhat apologetically. The girl quickly shook her head.

'That's perfect! We're just looking for a position...' She said, tugging on her friend's arm. 'Steve is looking for a job.' She said, encouraging him to talk.

'Oh, great... Uhm... If you want, come over here and I'll ask you a few questions.' The boy told him, pointing to one of the cubicles, and Steve followed. 'My name is Ned Miller...' He introduced himself, as he sat down in the chair across him.

Y/n sat in one of the cubicles opposite, on the other side of the store to give them privacy, but gave Steve a thumbs up as they exchanged glances, to infuse some courage.

After a few minutes, she was distractedly rolling a napkin to near shredding it, when a voice called her name. Y/n looked up and saw Robin, the girl she had met the year before in French class, who was approaching her with a nervous expression. Y/n assumed it was due to a first day at work, but she remembered that she used to behave the same way in class too. She always thought she was a bit hyperactive. She talked fast, stumbling over her words.

'Oh, hi, y/n! I didn't expect to s-ee you here... here.' She said, unable to keep herself from stumbling over her feet. Her cheeks flushed instantly. Y/n had started to get up in case she should help her, but Robin disguised it as best she could, sitting down across from her. Her voice trembled slightly, and her gaze drifted briefly to the floor before meeting y/n's eyes again. 'Are you here for an interview or something?'

The alluded, noticing Robin's nervousness and trying not to make her feel any more uncomfortable, replied kindly.

'Hey, Robin! what a surprise to see you too. No, I'm not here for an interview. I'm just accompanying Steve, he's here for a Job.' She gestured with a wave of her head to where Steve and the manager were talking. Robin, hearing this, looked over to where she had pointed and saw Steve in one of the cubicles with Ned Miller. Her expression changed slightly, and although she tried to maintain her composure, a shadow of disappointment crossed her face. With a clearly forced smile, she turned her attention back to the Hargrove girl.

'Oh, I see. Well, that's... uh, great.' Her face showed some discomfort, and y/n remembered that the image most had of Steve at school, was not the real one she had indeed known. However, she was unaware that Robin had believed for a moment she would be working alongside her, and her mind had begun to fantasize scenarios where they shared chats and laughed together during breaks. Every time y/n smiled at her, Robin felt her heart race a little faster. The thought of spending so much time with her in the same place excited her and, at the same time, made her nervous. And all at once, that balloon of fantasies, deflated with a pinprick. Robin, blushing and smiling nervously, shrugged her shoulders. 'Anyway. If you ever need anything, you know, or if you want to chat during a break, I'll be around.'

Y/n smiled back, clearly oblivious to everything going on in her head.

'That sounds great, Robin. Thanks. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other over the summer.' She said, pointing to the theater uniform resting next to her on the seat. Robin nodded quickly, with a mixture of relief and anxiety on her face.

'Oh, yeah, definitely. And, uh, good luck with Steve and... well, all that.' She said before vanishing out the staff door, behind the counter. Only a few minutes later, Ned and Steve walked over to y/n's table. She asked Steve the question with her eyes, as the manager walked towards the room where Robin disappeared.

'So, did you get it?” she asked in a whisper. He seemed less glum than before, but not quite.

'I don't know, he still didn't tell me... He said to wait here.' He murmured, collapsing beside her. After a few minutes that seemed like forever to the two friends, the door opened.

'Welcome aboard the Scoops Ahoy ship, Steve!' Ned said as he stepped out of the staff room. Behind him was Robin. She was now wearing a white collar and puffed sleeves on a striped shirt, a vest and a high-waisted blue shorts.

'Do I have to wear that?' Steve asked, pointing to the uniform the other girl was wearing. Y/n smacked him on the chest with the back of her hand.

'Are you going to be this much of a prima donna about everything?' Robin asked. Steve looked extremely confused.

'I'm nothing like Madonna, so that doesn't even make sense' Y/n let out a laugh, Steve frowned at her, as if requesting for backup. Robin spoke again.

'You're going to be fine with the monotony of scooping ice cream for entitled adults and whining, sticky children all summer? What happens when one of your many friends and admirers comes in and you wish you were out there having fun instead of in here slinging another U.S.S. Butterscotch?' Y/n's gaze went from Steve to Robin, and vice versa.

'I can handle it.'

'Sure you can, rocket man.'

'Ok, ok, you two, settle down.' Interjected y/n,interrupting their bickering. 'We can do this like the civilized people we are. Right?' She asked, and they both fell silent. Just then, Ned seemed to finish filling out the paperwork for the hiring.

'All right, you two. It's going to be a sweet, sweet summer!' He said. Y/n forced a smile for her friend. 'Steve, let's get you into Scoops gear right away.' He said, as he opened the door for staff again, this time leaving it open for the boy to follow.

'Yippee' He muttered to y/n as he got up from beside him. Before following Ned, he stopped next to Robin and offered her a hand. 'Hey, look, if we're going to be working together this summer, let's call a truce, okay? I don't know why you don't like me, but I'm a pretty okay guy.' Robin looked at y/n, and y/n smiled at her, causing her to lose the rhythm of her thoughts, so she took Steve's hand without saying anything. And he went behind the counter.

'I don't want to sound rude, but are you really friends with Harrington?' She asked with a grimace. Y/n remembered when Eddie had asked her something similar. Although they hadn't gone through the shared experience with the demodogs at the time, the answer was even clearer.

'I'd trust him with my life. Give him a chance.' She asked sincerely. ' 'He's not like everyone thinks.'

Two minutes later, Steve is standing in front of them, with his uniform on, although the shorts he was wearing were tighter than the girl's. And the sailor's cap, barely fitting over his head because of his hair. Robin lets out a laugh at the sight of him. Y/n tries to be more discreet.

'That's...just...wow.'

'Thanks for really upping my self-esteem here.'

'I told you you looked good in blue.' Y/n commented.

'Can you do a spin?' Robin asked. Steve, frustrated threw his cap on the floor.

'Steve!' Scolded his friend, and before she could pick it up, Ned did, and dusted it off.

'I'm going to start instructing you on the basics of serving ice cream, okay?' He said, handing the cap back to Steve, and going behind the counter. Y/n climbed onto one of the seats, propping her knees up and leaning her torso against the backrest, facing the counter. However, before Robin and Steve followed Ned from the other side of the counter, the girl pulled a polaroid out of her backpack and snapped a picture of Steve, who was still frowning.

'Oh, this is perfect.'

'No,' he demanded, still frowning. 'Destroy that, right now.'

Y/n watches them, somewhere between amused and concerned. That was going to be a very interesting summer.

7 notes · View notes

heavyhitterheaux · 4 days ago

Text

First Name Basis

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: Joe becomes nervous when you call him by his first name

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Folding your leg underneath you, your body flopped down onto the couch in the living room as you opened the camera on your phone so it had a direct clear shot of Joe sitting in the kitchen looking up different recipes so the two of you could make something for dinner.

He looked deep in thought before you interrupted him, by calling his name which you had only done once since the two of you began a relationship with one another at LSU.

“Joseph.” You simply said and it almost felt foreign to hear it come out of your mouth.

Joe on the other hand didn't respond and it wasn't until the second time you did it that he looked up in your direction in confusion.

“Wait, what did you just call me?”

“Joseph.”

Instead of saying anything, he continued to look confused as you tried not to laugh because you knew for a fact that he was starting to panic.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” You asked him and different scenarios started to run through his mind.

“Uh, am I in trouble? What's today? It's not our anniversary, right? No, it's a month away. Did something happen that I don't know about?” He started to ramble and it took everything in you not to go and hug him.

“That's your name? Jim and Robin gave it to you, so what's the big deal?”

“The BIG DEAL is that my name is BABY to you! You never call me Joe let alone JOSEPH. Oh, shit you want a divorce don't you? What did I do? Getting all formal and shit with these first names.” He responded as he got up and walked toward you.

“Don't be dramatic. A divorce, really?” The rolling of your eyes happened the moment the words left his mouth.

“You're the dramatic one using my full government. Like who does that?”

“Everyone! And I just wanted you to grab me some cran pineapple juice from the fridge.”

“Yeah, cranberry and all her mixed children. BUT, you aren't everyone, you are literally MY WIFE and that didn't require you to use my FIRST name.”

“You really aren't going to let this go are you?”

“No and I'm covering all my bases and buying you an expensive ass piece of jewelry because I have no idea what I did wrong. Like Joseph? Who the fuck is that? Not me.” Was the last thing you heard before he headed into the kitchen to get the juice you had asked for as you doubled over in laughter.

When Joe walked into the kitchen, the first thing he did was send a text to your twin brother.

Joe- Your sister called me by my first name

Uno- And?

Joe- SHE NEVER DOES THAT AND NOW I'M PANICKING

Uno- Wait, your full name? 👀

Joe- YES

Uno- Oh

Joe- Oh? What do you mean oh!?!? Should I be worried!? She's smiling and laughing at me but I'm convinced she's planning my funeral

Uno- It was nice knowing you 🫠

Joe- So, you aren't going to help me!?!?

Uno- So she can get my ass too? HELL NO. Just let me know if you wake up dead tomorrow. We'll have a celebration of life for you at the stadium

Joe- And how the FUCK and I supposed to do that!?

Uno- Idk 🤷🏽‍♂️

Joe- 🙄🙄

When Joe finally walked back into the living room and handed you your glass, you smiled at him and motioned for him to lean down so you could kiss him.

“Thank you, baby.”

All he did was make a face before sitting down next to you.

“I'm not chancing it. What bracelet do you want from Tiffany's?” He asked as he handed you his phone which earned a smile to come across your face.

“Hmm, pranking you has its perks, doesn't it Joseph?” You asked as you smirked and took a sip from your glass.

“I… You know what? Give me my phone back.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x reader #joe sheisty #nfl imagine #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfiction #joey b #joe burrow fanfic

510 notes · View notes

stevesgother · 15 days ago

Text

The 4th - S.H

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI NSFW, cursing, drinking, characters are all of age, takes place after the events of ST3, slight exhibitionism only bc they’re technically outside, it’s that slightly awkward but endearing sex you have when you fuck someone you like for the first time. It's realistic. Sue me.

AN: first time writing smut, i'm so nervous. fast times au?? If you squint?? the last half isn't proofread bc i simply cannot bring myself to read my own smut

‘American Woman’ by The Guess Who blares loudly from a twin pair of Hitachi speakers stationed on Steve Harrington’s back deck. On the hottest day of the year, The Party had decided to congregate at the only non-public pool they had unlimited access to.

To his relief, Steve had been assigned to grill duty again. The cherry red bikini you had sauntered through his sliding glass door wearing was starting to seriously inconvenience him. He had his Ray Bans on, albeit low on the bridge of his nose, to disguise where his gaze had been lingering all afternoon; the large propane grill hiding his lower half.

Lounging poolside on your towel, you hear before you feel a large ‘SPLASH’, and suddenly you’re soaked head to toe in overly chlorinated pool water.

“Ugh! Henderson!” you scold as you stand to replace your now drenched towel. The cheeky boy looks up at you from where he floats in the pool and mouths a half-hearted ‘Sorry’.

“Steve! Would you happen to have an extra towel?” you shout to him as you hold up your ruined one, shooting him a deadpan expression. “Yeah, ‘course,” he sets down the grill tongs and awkwardly shuffles his way inside, keeping his back to you. Weird, you think.

Steve caught one look at you, hair wet and dripping, water beading down your neck and disappearing among the curve of your breasts; nipples taught from the sudden shock of cold water and visible through the fabric of your swimsuit, and he was grateful for the reprieve inside would offer him.

After close to 15 minutes of no Steve and more importantly, no towel, you decide to venture into the spacious house yourself. “Steve! – Oh!-” you startle as you run chest to chest into him, both turning a corner. “You scared me,” you say with a hand to your racing heart, “I was just wondering where you went,” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Yeah no, sorry, I just uh- got distracted,” he says, avoiding contact and handing you the fresh linen. You glance down, and notice the slight tent in his maybe too-tight swim trunks. You feel the heat of a rosy blush crawl up your cheeks, and a sudden flip of your stomach. Were you really the reason why he was acting so strange? That felt incredibly presumptuous of you.

“Well um…” you trail off, trying to keep your cool, ��thanks. For the towel, I mean.” Steve had never made you feel so bashful and uncertain before. Something about the newly exposed skin and the salty smell of sweat mixed musk that radiates off of him from this proximity making your mind short circuit.

–

When the cookout had dwindled down to just the adults and the sun dipped just below the trees, a joint had started to be passed around your small circle. “Well, we should probably head home,” Nancy announces in her usual demure tone, grabbing Jonathan’s hand helping him to stand. A chorus of goodbyes echo throughout the group, eventually leaving just you, Steve, Robin and Eddie.

An exaggerated yawn escapes Robin as she declares she’s exhausted and needs Eddie to drive her home in his rinky dink van.

“C’mon man! I just rolled this joi-”

Robin cuts him off with a harsh clear of her throat and an even harsher jab to his ribs.

“I. Really think. We. Should. Go.” She punctuates each word with a forced smile. Why was everyone acting so fucking odd today? You try to send her a panicked glance, fearing the potential awkwardness of being left here alone with Steve.

Being best friends with both of you, she was well aware of the searing crushes the two of you had on each other. This barbeque was her opportunity to light a fire under your asses to do something about it.

“That’s okay, Rob. Go home if you’re tired.” Always the gentleman. Right now you could kick him for it. If Robin notices your glaring, she doesn’t acknowledge it as she rises to her feet and heads toward the gate leading to the driveway.

“Bye losers!” She waggles her fingers at you as they make their exit, sending you a subtle wink that sets your cheeks ablaze. You now know without a doubt that this was intentional.

A hand on your knee as he says, “I can walk you home if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. We can finish the joint at least,” you smile timidly at him. Free weed wasn’t easy to come by these days, what was the harm in staying just a little longer?

–

2 hours later, you’re lying shoulder to shoulder on the rough concrete surrounding the Harrington’s pool. The joint had been snuffed out on the ground between you an hour ago, but with your thoughts dulled like this it was becoming increasingly easy to bask in the space you two had created for each other. The desire to turn heel and run with your other friends had long fizzled out.

“Hey, what was up with you today?” you ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “You just seemed really off,”

He looks suddenly nervous, “Oh I uh– I don’t know. Julys’ always a weird month for me, I guess,” he lies, carding a hand through his hair.

Taking the hand that’s not in his hair in your own, you ask, “Are you doing okay?” When he turns his head to meet you, your sincerity makes him blush - neck to ears. Your faces are closer than he thought they would be. He can count every eyelash from this proximity.

“Yeah– you know what,” He clears his throat, “I��m actually really warm,” he sits up clumsily as he pulls his shirt over his head by the collar, ruffling his hair and exposing the constellation of freckles and moles he has spattering the skin on his toned back.

“Okay–” You go to stand with him but he’s already dove into the pool. When he breaches the surface, he shakes his hair out like a dog and grins at you. You can’t help your eyes wandering to the dark patch of hair covering his chest. You’re starting to feel that warmth he had been complaining of.

“You gonna come in? Or just stand there and gawk?” He laughs as he floats over to you.

So you peel your shirt off and watch him stare intently as you unbutton your shorts, letting them drop to your feet. A less than elegant swan dive and you’re disappearing under the artificially blue water. The sudden coolness of it shocks you, sobering you up a bit.

You’re much more graceful than the boy when it’s your turn to come up for air, gently pushing back the hair that sticks to your face. He swims over to you unsuspectingly, then in the next breath and with a mischievous grin he lifts your body over his shoulder and essentially bodyslams you back under the surface.

More than the gesture itself, what shocks you the most is the warm expanse of his broad shoulders caressing you. You both emerge laughing, “Asshole!” you swat at his chest playfully.

When the laughter dies and fizzles out into an anxious energy, the air is filled with a sort of anticipation. The two of you are bobbing in the pool, faces no more than an inch apart.

“You have got to stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Just then he surges forward and presses his lips firmly to yours. The kiss is close-mouthed and chaste at first, giving you a chance to pull away. When you don’t take the opportunity, he deepens it. Your wet hands move to hold his face, breaching the water with a small splashing sound and his strong arms hug you at the waist, bringing you impossible closer. Pressed up against him like this you can feel all of him. The scratch of curls on his chest, the bulge of his biceps around your middle, the hard length of him pressed against your thigh.

Gasping into the kiss, you give him the opening he needs to lick hotly into your mouth, eliciting a breathy moan from your chest that sends Steve reeling. He starts to slowly kick his legs, swimming to push your back up against a vinyl clad wall.

Your lips move to lick the vein that runs down his neck, then up to a spot just below his ear. He groans when you take his earlobe gently into your mouth. Grasping your cheek in his hand, he forces your face out of the refuge his neck had provided from his intense gaze.

“Can I touch you?” He shudders when he speaks, having dreamt about this exact moment for years. Your response is an enthusiastic nod and another searing kiss to his lips - plush and pink and made for your own.

Steve’s knee moves to rest bookended between your thighs, keeping you open for him. In the water, he can’t feel how pathetically wet you are beneath your bright red bikini bottoms. You’re thankful for that, but even so, the whine that you release when his swift fingers push aside the fabric and start slowly massaging your clit is enough to give you away.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, leaving small crescent shapes in his perfect skin. “Oh!-- God, keep doing that,” you pant.

“You like that, baby?” Steve tries to sound suave. Mr. Confident. King Steve. Honestly, he’s terrified. He has half a mind to stop and ask you to pinch him, not entirely convinced this is even real. But the sweet, sweet sounds you’re making are enough to persuade him otherwise.

“Yes! Ah– please, don’t stop,” you beg, even though you don’t have to. Steve’s positive he would do just about anything you asked of him right now. You have the sudden urge to return the favor, reaching down between your two bodies and palming him through his swim trunks.

“Oh -- my God, don’t,” he warns, the sheepish smile on his face signals to you that he’s not actually uncomfortable, “I’ll come in my pants like a damn teenager,” he gives an embarrassed chuckle.

Growing desperate for more, you say, “I want you to fuck me.” with an impossible finality. It makes Steve’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Wh-what?” He needs to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Steve. I need you to fuck me. Now.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you begin to press open-mouth kisses to his neck again.

“Oh my God,” The boy sounds absolutely wrecked already, barely able to contain himself. His hands fumble blindly for the ties on your bikini bottoms and he pulls when he finds them. Unwrapping you like his very own Christmas present.

You pull his trunks down and over his hips, just enough to fish his red and swollen cock out, careful to not let them fall to the bottom of the pool lest someone have to dive and retrieve them. You line him up hurriedly with your entrance, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Are you sure about this?” His brows furrow in that way they always do, when he's unsure. He has a crinkle above his nose.

“Yes” you half moan before getting a look at his face, “Wait, are you?”

“Yes! Yes– of course. I just– want you to be sure,” He kisses you softly after he asks

It’s so tender, you feel so safe with him like this. You fear you might be falling in love.

“I promise, I’m su–Oh!” he slides into you without warning, nearly knocking the breath out of you. He lets out a guttural groan into the space where your shoulder meets your neck as he starts to keep a steady rhythm.

“God, you feel so good,” he pants into your open mouth, “i’ve wanted this for so long,”

His words have you keening. He wraps his broad arms fully around you now, hugging you close as he pistons his hips into you. Repeatedly hitting that spot inside your walls where you need him the most.

“Oh, Steve!” you moan loudly, no longer concerned about the neighbors hearing you. The pool water begins to form waves from Steve’s thrusting and splash up onto the concrete beside your head.

“Fuck, say my name like that again,” you can feel his hips stuttering slightly.

“Steve!” He whines directly into your ear when you say it, you never would’ve thought he’d be so vocal.

“Touch yourself baby, I’m close,”

You do as you’re asked and start to keep a frenzied pace on your sensitive bud. Having both kinds of stimulation, mixed with Steve’s sweet praise, is sending you closer and closer to your edge.

As you reach your high, Steve can feel your warm pussy clench around him, making him hurtle towards his orgasm with you.

With a strangled cry, “fuck- I'm cumming,” You finish together as hips slow and he rides out his orgasm with you. His body curls in on itself and he trembles slightly. You run a warm, soft hand through his hair and down his back, soothing him through the intensity of it.

“Shit- my parents are going to kill me,” he laughs and kisses you again.

Maybe you did like swimming. Just a little bit.

tags: @daisy-munson, @megxplryxb

405 notes · View notes

deebris · 2 months ago

Text

Between us

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: This would be the first night you and Bruce would spend together as father and daughter, something you had been eagerly looking forward to. Everything seemed peaceful during dinner until the main singer of the restaurant, Bruce's ex-girlfriend from many years ago, decided to show up and stir things up.

Warnings: Mentions cheating, discrimination agaisnt people with physical disabilities (not from Bruce, not from you), a bit of angst, fluff at the end.

Word count: 5.2k

Note: This is part of The Mysterious Visitor universe, but for those who haven’t read it: the reader is Damian’s twin (though there are no physical descriptions of her), and Talia kept it a secret from Bruce even after her son became Robin. The reader began living with the Batfamily at the age of 13.

You smiled as you reached the last step of the staircase and heard the melody of Dream a little dream of me being played. This restaurant wasn’t very different from those you used to visit with your mother, but it was still different in many ways. It was a large hall, full of yellow lights and whispers from the various conversations happening simultaneously, but what caught your attention most was the singer. Her voice was powerful, yet as soft as a feather. Her arms moved gracefully, as if she knew precisely where to guide them.

Today, it was just you and Bruce, but you had barely entered the place before several men in fine suits began greeting him and making jokes, most of which you didn’t understand. Your smaller figure went unnoticed, and you made no effort for this, staying in your personal silence while you admired the chandeliers and walls with wide eyes. The place wasn’t discreet and was obviously very expensive.

You liked observing people. Many beautiful young women were laughing, but what drew your attention were the unique hairstyles and dresses each of them wore. As Bruce tried to follow the waiter to your table, someone would rise from their own seat every few seconds to talk to him. Yet despite all the handshakes, he never let go of your hand. Until an older lady noticed the little girl Bruce Wayne had brought along:

“And who is this young lady, Bruce?” she asked with a warm smile, and you finally stopped looking around to focus on the people your father was conversing with.

“This is my daughter, Ophelia,” he said, calling the woman by her first name with familiarity. Bruce had a certain affection for her, as she had been a friend of his mother when she was alive.

“Oh! Martha would have been so happy to see the two of you.” She placed a hand on her chest and gently stroked your chin. “And where have you been hiding her?”

“She lived with her mother, but she’s staying with me now,” Bruce replied, beaming at the lady, who excitedly called her husband and son, likely around your father’s age, to come greet you. They were among the few people you truly enjoyed meeting.

It didn’t take long for you two to finally reach your table. Bruce pulled out a chair for you to sit, then took his own. The waiter immediately poured wine for him, while your glass remained filled only with water.

“Do you like the music?” he suddenly asked, noticing how you were staring at the musicians.

“I do,” you said, starting to fiddle with the napkins. “I tried playing the flute once,” you mentioned, and Bruce loved when you initiated conversations without realizing it. It made it easier for him to learn more about you, and in a way, it was an endearing trait of your personality.

“Tried? Why did you give up?” He kept the conversation going, relaxed in his chair and entirely focused on every small expression you made.

“I didn’t have enough breath to blow,” you snapped your lips in frustration, remembering how disappointing it was not to be able to play. Your father wanted to laugh internally but did everything to hold it back, knowing it would irritate you. “Do you play anything?”

“I used to play piano, but I’ve had no time, and I barely remember the last time I touched one,” he squinted as he spoke, and you felt sad seeing how much he seemed to miss the instrument.

“Why is there a woman in costume over there?” you asked suddenly, changing the subject entirely, and your father had to turn his head to see whom you were talking about. There was a woman in flamboyant clothes and a white wig talking to a man Bruce recognized as the owner of the establishment.

“She’s the opera singer who used to perform here when it was still a theater.” He got comfortable in his seat again and opened the menu. “She only goes on stage at 10. If you want, we can stay and watch her later.”

“This used to be a theater?” you perked up, scanning the room again, trying to imagine how it must have looked years ago, without all these tables and with an audience facing the stage. Bruce smiled internally, having caught on that your curiosity had been piqued.

“When the old owner died, his son decided to turn the place into a restaurant,” he glanced briefly at you and noticed how you were expecting him to say more. “The boy didn’t live in the city, and when he came back, he thought the business was too archaic. But he decided to keep some of the staff as a tradition.”

“I wish I could have watched a play here,” you said, frustrated, resting your head between your hands. Bruce thought about telling you to take your arms off the table but dismissed the idea.

“You’ve never seen one?” He turned to the next page, evaluating the meals.

“No… Only on TV,” you replied, poking at the edge of the other menu the waiter had left for you but not bothering to open it.

“We can go one day. I’ll take you,” he said after finally deciding what to order, but before calling the waiter, he looked at you curiously. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment. “Can you choose for me?” you asked with pleading eyes.

Bruce frowned. He opened his mouth to understand but closed it immediately. He had noticed details about your behavior like this in recent weeks—small, seemingly insignificant things that still managed to catch him by surprise. It was normal for children your age to choose what they wanted to eat, but it seemed Talia had been very strict about your diet. Alfred prepared your meals, and Bruce couldn’t recall you refusing any of them. Fortunately, you seemed easygoing in this aspect.

“Are you sure you don’t want to choose? Something savory instead of sweet?” he suggested, and you thought for a moment but nodded. Bruce knew about your fondness for sweets, which made him sometimes push you to avoid them.

Bruce raised his hand to call the waiter, but suddenly a high-pitched female voice approached from behind. Neither of you had noticed when the singer had finished her song, stepping away from the microphone while the band played without vocals, heading toward your table.

“Bruce Wayne!” she called out excitedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Your father looked at her, not expecting her to come over, barely noticing the man accompanying her until he also started speaking, though more loudly than her.

“Miss Conti,” Bruce muttered her name uncomfortably. “Mr. Williams,” he acknowledged the restaurant’s owner. After Williams took over the place following his father’s death, Conti was hired as the main attraction. The two had a public affair, something socially frowned upon, but for some reason, the man’s wife tolerated the scandal.

“Mr. Wayne, I needed to talk to you. Are you enjoying the evening?” Williams attempted to start, but he was interrupted:

“Oh, come on, Bruce. You know you can call me Cecilia,” the woman chimed in, rubbing your father’s shoulder with her thumb before removing her hand completely and then noticing you sitting next to him. She opened an even bigger smile, though her eyes didn’t follow suit, widening with curiosity. “And who’s this lovely girl here?”

Bruce let out a small laugh, happy to mention you. “This is my daughter.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter. How’s Richard doing? Still as confident as when he was a boy? God, he must be a grown man by now.” She made comment after comment but didn’t give Bruce a chance to respond before she started speaking again: “Oh, but you’re such a cute little thing.” She approached your chair, cautiously analyzing your face, running her fingers over your earlobe and then sliding them along your jaw. You had no other reaction but to thank her, feeling uncomfortable with her touch and very confused about who they were.

“You’re very beautiful too, Miss,” you said sincerely. The woman before you was truly stunning. Her blonde hair was impeccably styled in an elegant bun, and her makeup remained flawless, without a smudge. She wore an orange dress adorned with small sparkling stones that glimmered under the lights. Your teenage eyes were captivated by her appearance. She didn’t seem to be more than 40 years old.

“Oh, hearing her speak makes her even more adorable,” she gestured in the air as if wanting to pinch your cheeks, softening her voice the way people often do when talking to pets.

“A really lovely young lady, if I may say so,” Williams added with an awkward smile as he pulled a chair from another table to sit. You looked at Bruce, confused, thinking it would just be the two of you. The woman did the same but, instead of fetching one herself, asked a random man in a staff uniform to bring her one. “Remember what we were discussing at the city library’s grand opening, Wayne?”

“George, forget business for a second. Let’s have some fun,” Cecilia cut him off. “Where did you two come from?” she asked you both.

“We were at the auction,” your father answered, tense at their lack of social grace. If you hadn’t been there, Bruce wouldn’t have hesitated to be rude and tell them to get lost, but in front of his children, he tried to keep that side of him in check.

“Oh! The one the opposing candidate, DuPont, organized?” she added a malicious tone to her voice, as if implying something. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you supporting one of your biggest competitors in Gotham’s mayoral race, Bruce.”

“We’re competitors, not enemies,” he tried to respond lightly. “Besides, I don’t see why we couldn’t end up collaborating.”

"You should have declared support for the current mayor. The citizens of Gotham tend to reelect the same names, as you well know. Carnegie will win again," the other man interrupted. Bruce, impatient, clenched his fists under the table, frustrated with the direction the conversation had taken. He had hoped for a quiet dinner alone with you to get to know you better, but it seemed he had chosen the wrong place.

"Mr. Williams, no offense intended, my only reason for being here is to have dinner with my daughter. Please, let’s put politics aside for tonight." He wished he could ask both of them to leave, but suddenly, Cecilia started talking to you. Bruce, visibly irritated, called the waiter, wanting to finish the meal as quickly as possible so he could leave. After placing his order, he turned to you and asked, "Carbonara?" Seeing you nod, he ordered that too.

"I'll go for an arugula salad with truffles," Cecilia said, her smile becoming increasingly irritating, seemingly oblivious to Bruce's displeasure.

"For me, a lobster ravioli with lemon foam and caviar," Williams added, just to be included, and you grimaced at the thought of caviar.

"What did you think of the auction? Did your father buy something special for you?" Cecilia turned to you at the table, with a noticeable interest in getting your attention.

"It was interesting, Miss Conti," you replied simply, using the surname you remembered your father mentioning.

"Oh, dear..." Cecilia said in a falsely disheartened tone. "Bruce drags you to these boring events? Girls your age usually prefer to go to the movies or something like that."

"I like movies," you said, irritated, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "And I enjoyed the auction. There were some very beautiful paintings there."

"Argh, I hope you’re not talking about those by Isabela Zaragoza." She picked up a wine glass the waiter had served a few minutes earlier and drank. "She can only sell her works at charity auctions." She let out a sarcastic laugh, and Mr. Williams joined in.

You looked at Bruce for a response, but all you saw was a hard look. Your father was hardly looking at any of you, breathing deeply with impatience. You didn’t like what they were doing; it seemed cruel, even though you had no idea who Isabela Zaragoza was.

"Oh, Bruce. You know it's true." She rolled her eyes, and it was clear that Cecilia was the dominant one in the duo, always very talkative and starting conversations. "In all of Gotham City, the only one who buys her art is your father. It must be out of pity; someone who paints with their feet probably won't get very far in their career."

You were shocked by what she said. It was something so unexpected to hear that you froze in place completely. It was absurdly cruel, and seeing your wide eyes, along with Bruce's furious expression, made Williams, who had been laughing with her earlier, become nervous.

"Cecilia!" He whispered her name sharply. "She was just joking. Zaragoza is a fantastic artist." He tried to ease the tense atmosphere, sweating coldly.

"I must say she paints better with her feet than you sing with your mouth, Miss Conti." Bruce suddenly replied in a dangerously low voice, and it seemed to hit a nerve with her, as the calluses that were forming in her voice knocked her confidence. He knew he was wrong to try to humiliate her back; it wasn’t a mature move, especially since he didn’t want you to take that as an example.

You let out a quiet laugh at that but immediately stopped when Bruce looked at you. He had a soft sadness, not of disappointment, but of concern. He regretted his own behavior and knew he would need to talk to you about what Cecilia and he had said later. The woman in question tried to laugh with you at first but miserably failed. It was obvious that Bruce had wounded her ego.

"When we were dating, you praised my voice a lot, Bruce." She suddenly mentioned, and you looked at him in surprise. You hadn’t noticed how your father had almost frozen in place before asking:

"You and my dad used to date?" Your voice carried genuine curiosity, and Mr. Williams beside you seemed uncomfortable with the topic.

"Yes, dear." She looked at you, then turned her face to Bruce mockingly. In the background, you could hear your father clearing his throat, trying to draw your attention away from the subject, but he couldn’t. "It's been many years. It was fun for a few months, that is until Robert found out, of course." She laughed a little too loudly for the setting, taking another sip from her glass.

"Who is Robert?" You asked, your voice dropping, your playful smile now gone due to the strangeness of the conversation.

"Oh, he was my husband." She said it as if it were nothing, and Bruce suddenly stood up from the table, moving to his seat and pulling you to leave. His expression had crumpled like paper as he stood up automatically, still processing what she had said.

"Let’s go." Bruce told you, embarrassed but trying to mask it with an expression of fury.

"But the dishes haven’t even arrived yet, Bruce." Cecilia melodramatically added, placing a hand on his arm, a silent request to stay.

"We're leaving." He repeated more firmly, pulling you by the shoulders away from her. Bruce leaned a bit over the table to face her head-on, and with harshness, he unleashed his anger on her: "I know what you're trying to do, you viper, and you will regret this. Never dare to approach me or her again."

"Did I say something wrong?" She spoke cynically, finally showing an expression that matched her feelings for him: disdain.

"Wayne, we can resolve this." William stood up from the chair, visibly shaken. The meticulous plan he had been crafting for months was crumbling before his eyes. Bruce's funding was the key to expanding the restaurant, and Cecilia had ruined everything. "I'm sure we can forget this incident if Ceci apologizes."

Bruce felt the tension rise in his body, the throb of a vein in his forehead, while the heat of irritation burned under his skin. "Do you think I’m going to accept something like that? In front of my daughter?" He spat the words, struggling to maintain his composure. His fists were clenched, ready for a blow that never came. It was only when you gently tugged on his arm that he made the decision to leave. As you walked out, William's frustrated shouts echoed through the hall, his anger directed at the blonde woman, who was furious at being dismissed immediately.

Bruce's frustration was palpable. The last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as inconvenient as Cecilia, especially in your presence. The shadow of his reckless past still hung over him, an open wound. Women like her were living reminders of the regrets that haunted him, of thoughtless choices he would do anything to change.

Near the exit, you spotted the opera singer again, and the memory of what your father had promised you tugged at your heart. "Aren't we going to stay to hear the opera lady?" your voice carried a twinge of sadness.

Bruce sighed, his fingers gently squeezing your shoulders, but the discomfort was evident on his face. "Sorry, I know you wanted that." The weight of the situation was palpable, and he couldn’t help but imagine what you were thinking about him now.

The chauffeur, caught off guard by the rush, quickly opened the door. Bruce, however, did not wait. He let you enter first, slamming the door shut as soon as he settled in. Inside the car, he exhaled the air he hadn’t realized he was holding, diverting his gaze to you. His focus was on the scenery, his face too serene, but he noticed how you were biting your nails—a small sign of nervousness.

He swallowed hard. What a terrible way to end the evening, right next to you. The silence hung heavy in the air, and he feared asking what was going through your mind. Who would have thought? Bruce Wayne, afraid of the words of a child.

For a moment, he watched you press your cheek against the glass, your eyes wandering over the city lights.

"S/n," he called your name, his voice hoarse. You murmured in response, waiting for him to continue. Bruce opened his mouth, but the words got lost along the way. His expression hardened, and he turned to the window as well, the silence remaining until you arrived at the mansion. And you, very focused on observing the movement of the streets, didn’t mind.

When you arrived at the entrance, Alfred was already there, helping you take off your thick coat at that very moment. The butler was surprised at how quickly the two of you returned. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take long because of you, needing to sleep early, but he hadn’t expected it to be at this hour.

"Master Bruce, Miss Y/n. Did something happen?" He asked, noticing your silence. For Bruce, this was a common demeanor, but whenever your went out, you returned home commenting on every tiny detail of everything you saw.

"Boring people." You replied with a grimace, using that false tone of indifference that Alfred knew how to identify very well.

"Boring people?" He returned rhetorically while glancing at Bruce, who silently took off his own coat and exited the room without saying goodbye to either of you. He had certainly overheard the brief conversation but was ignoring you two. "There are always a few." The older man said with a smile at you.

“I don’t like going to places with a lot of people; it’s annoying having to give everyone an explanation. But it was nice to go out with Bruce.” You started voicing your thoughts aloud, and Alfred knew you wouldn’t hold back in front of him.

Sometimes he felt like you treated him as a sort of confidant, a diary, but then he realized you didn’t make an effort to hide anything from anyone in particular, except for extremely specific things. Another clear sign of Talia. She must have raised you to be like this, as no other girl your age would likely be so open.

“Did you have fun with him?” The butler continued encouraging you.

“Yes!” You became animated again, just as you had on other occasions. It seemed like all you needed was a little push to break the ice. “He let me place bids at the auction. I even competed with someone.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes!” You repeated the exasperated expression. “In the end, I almost didn’t place a final bid because the money got really high, but Bruce said to keep going.”

“And what did you get?” Alfred asked, guiding you to the kitchen. At some point, you would ask for his hot chocolate, so he preferred to get ahead of it.

“It was a compass from the colonial era.” You followed him and sat in the middle chair at the counter, one of the seats in front of the stove, since watching the butler cook had become one of your hobbies. It happened so often that everyone knew that chair was yours, and only you sat in it. “The money went to the children from the orphanage, so Bruce said I could.”

“Well done.” He replied, very focused on something but still paying attention to every word you said. Just then, Jason entered the kitchen, surprised to see you there, just like Alfred.

“You got back early.” He commented, recognizing the situation, raising his eyebrows at the butler, who gave him a keen look as he watched him head for the fridge. “What happened?” The boy asked, lacking any real interest.

“Bruce argued with a couple at the restaurant after the auction.” You said, resting your head on the counter, and Alfred could feel his ears itching. He had finally arrived at the point he wanted. “I saw a motorcycle like yours when we were coming back.” You added for your brother.

“Bruce argued at the restaurant?” Jason questioned you, ignoring your last sentence, not out of malice, but because he didn’t expect the animated man who had left home earlier to come back with such news.

“It wasn’t really a fight.” You tried to correct yourself, feeling guilty for revealing this since neither of them seemed very happy. “He just ended up discussing.”

Alfred extended an arm toward Jason as if asking for permission to interject in the matter. “Miss Y/n, who did Master Bruce argue with?”

You worried you were saying too much and might upset Bruce later because of it, but the way things happened, you knew the people at the tables around must have seen the scene, even if they didn’t know the context. Sooner or later, they would know who the parties involved were.

“A man named... Williams I think.” You whispered, looking at a random point as you tried to remember his name, losing Jason’s incredulous expression as he recognized the name of the place’s owner. “And a woman named Cecilia Conti.” The last name made Alfred nod silently, as he remembered the woman well.

“What did those two do to annoy him?” Jason dared to ask, looking at the butler with curiosity. The man was good at hiding feelings, but he sensed that Alfred knew very well the last person. The name wasn’t strange, but still, it wasn’t someone Jason recalled being mentioned with any importance.

The delay in hearing your answer made the two of them stare at you again in confusion. You pulled your hands from the counter and joined them in your lap, never meeting their gazes. It was an uncomfortable situation for you, and unfortunately very disappointing, but you knew Bruce wouldn’t want you to go around sharing this. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want anyone to know either. It wasn’t something that should be simply said.

“I don’t know.” You whispered again, looking up to see if they believed you. Obviously, neither of them did, but Jason was clever and changed the subject.

“So you saw a motorcycle like mine, huh?” He moved closer to you, holding a bottle of tonic water he had taken from the fridge. “Which one was it?”

“I don’t understand motorcycles.” You replied with a discouraged huff.

Jason glanced at Alfred and noticed that he was watching you both the whole time. Knowing him well, Jason realized that Alfred would go after Bruce to understand the story since you obviously didn’t want to tell.

“I was going to take a look at the exhaust on mine. Want to come with me?” He asked, remembering how you enjoyed learning a bit more about how the systems worked when he showed you last week. “I’ll let you get your hands dirty this time.”

“Are you serious?” You asked excitedly, smiling when you saw him shrug, but you quickly widened your eyes as you remembered something: “I can’t, I need to sleep. First day of school.”

Your statement made Jason check his wristwatch, looking at the time. He looked at you as if feeling sorry, saying, “Good luck, squirt.” And he headed to the garage of the Batcave, from which you suspected he had just come.

Alfred was happy that Jason was bonding with you. Knowing the boy's genius, the older man thought he would resist developing some kind of relationship, very different from Dick. But apparently, your nature pleased him since he didn’t shy away from spending time in your presence, like now.

Before midnight, you had already washed your hair and were trying to dry it with a hairdryer, but it was a bit difficult to stretch your arm back. You were clumsy, and usually, your mother did that for you, but after a few minutes, you managed. The problem was that everything got messy, and you wanted to sleep so you wouldn’t be tired the next day, but you had to detangle it or it would be worse. You must have been very focused while trying to fix your hair because you didn’t even notice your father opening the door.

“You’ve got everything ready.” Bruce said, analyzing the clothes on your sofa, with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, having only taken off his jacket. “Excited for the first day of school?” He asked you with a strange tone.

“I think I’m more nervous.” Your response came with a furrowed brow, wondering what the day would be like. You had never been to school before, and it seemed Damian and Tim were really good there, so you felt a bit pressured to at least try not to embarrass them with poor performance.

“I still remember how it was for me.” He continued, watching your uniform with a melancholic gaze, reliving some old memory. Bruce liked how well ironed everything was, and it made him proud to know that you did it all by yourself. “You’ll do fine, trust me. A girl like you won’t have many problems making friends or getting good grades.”

“Alfred helped me choose the shoes.” You pulled out a pair of low-heeled white dress shoes to show him. They were delicate and would certainly stand out against the uniform. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are.” Bruce smiled, looking more at you than at the shoes themselves. “Have you eaten?” He asked, concerned.

You grimaced and took a moment to respond, letting out a hesitant “Yes.”

“Did you really eat?” He gave you a disapproving look, not convinced.

“Hot chocolate.” You let out the answer you knew he didn’t want to hear. You ate a bit of everything, including healthy stuff, but your sweet tooth was hard to control.

“You have to eat something besides sweets before bed.” He said, trying not to give in to the remorseful look you gave him. But the feeling of guilt hit him, knowing he should have ensured you had dinner at the restaurant.

“But I already brushed my teeth.” Your mumble made him sigh, searching for words to bring up a topic he wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Sorry... For what happened there.” He took his hands out of his pockets and sat on the bed, extending his arm for you to come to him. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.” His voice was in an unnatural tone, firm and grave, but your silence notably bothered him.

“S/n.” He called your name, seeing your face look up to meet his. “You can be angry. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Why should I be angry?” Your question was innocent. Although it was disappointing, you didn’t feel angry at him. Besides, before you got to know him for real, Bruce Wayne was already a famous figure. His personal life was constantly in the newspapers.

“I want you to know that back then I was young and stupid.” He ran his hand along your arm as if wanting to offer some kind of comfort. The realization that you could have changed your opinion about him was killing him since you two left there, and he worried about doing something wrong concerning you, as Bruce wanted your trust, and he knew Talia wouldn’t let any mistake slip by before coming back and throwing it in his face. “I’ve changed. Do you understand me?”

“So you wouldn’t do that again?” You asked calmly, and that relieved him.

“No, never again. That was the first and last time.” He placed the hand that was on your arm to gently caress your cheek, suddenly remembering the time. He couldn’t take much more of your time. “There’s something more important I want to talk to you about as well. What Conti said about Miss Zaragoza…”

“It was wrong,” you quickly added, noticing how conflicted he seemed about what had happened.

“And what I said after…” Bruce continued, trying to find the right way to say it, but you spoke up again:

“That was wrong too.” Your soft voice sounded in understanding.

“Smart girl.” He smiled slightly, placing his hand on top of your head. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” you asked, rubbing your sleepy eyes.

“Can you not mention Miss Conti to Dick?” Bruce continued looking at you attentively, noticing the silly expression on your face. He felt genuinely grateful to see that the incident hadn’t affected your mood towards him. “Your brother doesn’t like her either.” Bruce gave you a light pinch on your side, which made you laugh.

“Alright!” you murmured as you got up, now excited thinking about the day ahead. “No telling Dick.” You emphasized, already pulling the covers up to lie down.

Bruce had also stood up, going to the switch to turn off the light when your voice sounded again: “Can you take me to school tomorrow? Just to the entrance.”

“I will,” he replied calmly. “And no more sweets for the rest of the week. I won’t go easy on you.” Bruce said finally, turning off the switch and carefully closing your bedroom door.

Tag list:

@aenishas

714 notes · View notes

violestars · 5 months ago

Text

𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to lovers AU, so the boy that broke your heart proposed to you— wait what?!

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: part 1 definitely not a wip lol, i got too attached to Sunday to let him go. !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: angst, hurt comfort, mention of homophobia, controlling family, arranged marriage; kinda suggestive, vulgar language.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2.

“Um— Sunday?”

The owner of that name, who was clinging stubbornly onto your waist, only replied with a soft nuzzle on your stomach before going silent again.

How the heck did you even get into this position?

A week without talking to Sunday, not even a small glance from him and you felt too awkward to admire those crystal-like eyes from afar.. listen to those soft lips.. ones that rejected your heartfelt confession—

“Oh shut it!” You mentally screamed. Past you would not believe this. Sunday? As in the guy that could never be separated from you? The same boy that gained you guys the silly ‘’soulmates’ title? Oh please.

You were a skeptical person, or a fancier way to call it— anxious. Everything is like a stacked cake to you, so polysemous. Each prettily decorated layer tastes like a plain lie, dig enough and you shall find the sweet truth at the very bottom, if you haven't gone crazy from a sugar high that is! But even if you were a mind reader, Sunday's feelings were always a mystery. Must he be so hidden from you? You have been shaking in your boots at the thought of losing these years of beautiful friendship if he hadn't noticed already.

“It has always been just him and me together.. Why can't you just share your true thoughts?” You signed, directing your frustrations to the little bear that he got you after a small arcane 'date'— well what your delusional self would call it. You smiled fondly at the memories, him being so deadpanned on how childish the place is, only to gamble his whole life away for a plushie you couldn't stop staring at. Honestly, the strangely designed toy was only cute because it looks like him, just with white wings as ears.

That is also why it was getting punched to oblivion.

Ding!

The abuse stopped as you quickly snatched your phone from the bedside table. Thankfully Robin was updating you on Sunday's condition. All she shared throughout the week with her brother's future boyfriend, the dumb nickname reserved for you specially, was his health and little behaviors. Nothing too useful, not too specific for speculation. “I swear Y/N! If I could I would— the guy was made out of stone or something!” You remembered the poor twin sobbed out, only to be glaring at you for replying with “No wonder he looks like an ethereal sculpture..”

But this time, your phone wasn't buzzing with several messages of either gossip or complaints, there were only one.

“Brother mumbled your name and ran straight out after I came home! Please don't fight! His face was as crinkly as an old man's!”

If the circumstances were different, you would have let out a soft chuckle yet you were at a loss for words. Last time he did that, you had to lie to your sleeping parents about such noisy commotion downstairs.

“Did I lock my windo—”

“You didn't.”

Sunday replied.

And here you were, laying underneath him, being pinned to your own soft bed. You have dreamt of being treated like this before, and if it wasn't for the fact that the guy laying on your stomach has been on incognito mode for days, you would've started blushing. How did he even get onto your window? Last time you prepared a ladder that you painfully struggled with setting up. Did he drag one here himself?

“Earth to Sunday?” You asked, hesitatingly patting his fluffy baby blue hair. Your touches carried themselves with confidence after its owner let out a sigh of content, to which you could only muster a small 'cute' under your breath.

“Fuck them..Those selfish deadbeats..” Sunday grumbled, his voice sending vibration to your tender stomach, making you shivered. You were slightly startled by his wordings, Sunday rarely curses, even around you. Did he have a fight with his family again?

“Whoa..I just heard some strong words from a guy that never works out— Ow!” You grunted, your sides stinging like an army of fire ants has just devoured your flesh. Who said a crush's privilege was freely inflicting pain onto your delicate body?

You were about to start a fight, there were so many bones to pick with this guy, let's not forget how he ignored your presence first.

As your hands were about to push Sunday off, he lifted his head up. Crystalized eyes challenging the sparkles of precious diamonds, glistening while they silently begged you to comfort their owner. The first time he looked at you in days and it was when he looked like a kicked puppy. You only sigh, gently pulling him up to your level as he buried his face into your neck.

“They wanted to marry me off— Well I would thank them if they actually left me alone after. But no! It was to strengthen the family relationships or something. I was given the job to take over my supposed spouse's family business and gain more power to ourselves, themselves if we're being brutally honest.” Sunday finally let out, after swallowing back a hiccup. He was slowly breaking down in your arms, you felt useless for just laying there and rubbing his back. Like you haven't been expecting his family to cook up something as unreasonable as that.

Unsurprisingly, Sunday knew that clearly, his pained grin proved it. What really was he hoping for? A kiss on the cheek? He was glad you hadn't kicked him out after the isolation he put you through. So he continued to spill out his troubles to you.

“Of course I didn't agree to that. I don't want to be tied to someone I never loved, like they haven't caged me enough. So I suggested your family.”

H-Huh???

You felt your eyes were bulging out of its sockets, mouth agape as you were about to question his decision. What did you have anything to do with his arranged marriage?

“Atta boy. Stay there and look pretty, I'm not finished.” You huffed with a light blush dusted across your face as Sunday chuckled between his soft sniffles. Even in times like this, he was joking around with you. This was definitely not the mysterious guy the girls were gushing over.

“They shamed you, us. Called us homos or whatever, I couldn't care less if they were only aiming at me. I stood my ground though, I told them your family is definitely on a higher status than any lady’s that caught their nasty attention. The public’s views are changing, if they throw away their historical mindset, they would see how we can manipulate this difference and act like the family is filled with open-minded politicians.”

You could tell Sunday felt relieved after that rant, which was filled with sassy remarks, yet something was holding his breath back. His heart beats were still jogging around, visible through your own chest. You then noticed how close you both were, not like as best friends you two haven't cuddled, it just felt so so close this time.

You felt naked under his attentive gaze, looking at you like you were the best thing that God has given him, your cheeks increased in color by instinct. You let out a hum after a tight silence, taking your eyes off his only to be gently led back by the hand on your chin, hopeful eyes boring into yours.

“To simply put. I want to marry you.”

His breath was so close to your mouth. When did he lean in so slyly? You gulped, you were definitely shocked at this plot twist and your expressions were all over the place. You must have looked like a fool at that moment.

Are you even supposed to reply? If so, how??

You only licked your dry lips, which succeeded in distracting Sunday's focus. It would have helped if he didn't look at them with such hunger, you felt like a weak rabbit in the wolf's den. The said wolf then turned back to your eyes, ones that he missed admiring with such fondness— ensuring their shine like they were priceless pieces of gemstone. Sunday looked at you with an unsure look, he didn't know what you were thinking as he assumed your heart didn't belong to him anymore. He did recognize the little glint in your eyes though, quietly urging him to continue, just like when you guys were sharing ridiculous stories in your secret spot as mischievous kids. So he did, he owed you a sincere apology after all.

“I understand. The guy that broke my heart proposed to me, what's up his sleeve this time? I was afraid. Y/N, my love, my life. If they knew we were together, they would use you against me. They would hurt you and I would rip them to shreds— But you would still be trapped. You don't deserve that, my prince. If I knew we were gonna have this argument, I would have brought up marrying you. They have called you such disgusting names.. But they all hide behind me, that's how it has always been. I would be the one hurting you, I am the one hurting you. It pains me just thinking about doing such sins.”

You were awfully silent, Sunday cringed at how he could clearly hear every movement of the rain, slowly hitting your window. Each drop turned harsher — copying the movement of his heart against yours. They all reminded him this was real, this was reality.

He was finally facing reality. What he was telling you will change the future for the better or worse. But he will take this shot because he couldn't afford to lose you any further. You are his lover, there is no other.

“I am a monster, it is clear now. After I pulled you into this mess, I know for sure of my kind. I don't know how you even loved me. Am I not obsessed with you? Aren't you weirded out by that? I'm scared I would let you down, I haven't even experienced real love before I met you, I can't provide you with the affections you're expecting, love—”

You pulled him into a deep kiss, hands wrinkling his neat white shirt, he definitely just got out from a meeting.

You could taste the metallic from your mouth, Sunday was returning the action with harsh movements like no tomorrow, like this was some sweet dream of his, biting your lips in the process. You couldn't care less, what mattered was how his actions were screaming desire, like an animal finally being freed from its cage— capturing its prized possession. He definitely regretted giving you the cold shoulder, holding onto you like you would run away once you witnessed his true form.

If you did, what would he do? No, he won't hurt you. He would probably cling onto you like child with its mother, crying like a newborn. He wou—

“..Y-You said you're scared of letting me down.” You managed to say, heavy breaths with shaky hands clutching onto his shoulders to balance yourself as you cut off his chain of thoughts. It was a battle trying to take control with him, all you could do was let out small whimpers once you felt like choking. Sunday looked at you with dazed eyes, this was a side he has never seen, one he would kill to reserve for his own feast. But he was focused, he was getting accepted or thrown away for good— the latter being slightly off chance.

“How about sticking around to find out first?” You asked, your tone assertive and filled with trust in him. You knew Sunday wouldn't back down from a challenge, you knew how possessive he could be. But you didn't mind. You were inviting a monster into your own home, maybe you were the monster all along.

“Y/N, you know this isn't a silly game—”

“Don't you want to make me proud?” Sunday paused, whatever insults he was about to throw up to persuade your stubbornness cut off from his script. He has never felt so weak before. Not even with the family, they still need him. But not you, the way you phrased that, how you were looking at him. You looked like a deity, talking to a dumb buffoon of a peasant, giving him orders he oh so carved.

God, you're divine.

Sunday only lean into your soft luring touch, his eyes never leaving those that got him so weak in the knees. Filled with much adoration but also power.

“Cause I'm so proud..” You gently breathed out, fanning his thirsty lips. As they crashed into each other once again, this time full of longing and love, you both have sealed your fate. Where you go, he will follow along. Sunday knew he is yours now, you knew you have always belonged to him.

Baby, I'm so proud of you.

#male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #sunday hsr #angst #honkai star rail #sunday x male reader #x male reader #sunday honkai star rail #hurt/comfort #hurt/angst #angst with a happy ending #yaoi bl #yaoi #gay #violewritas

461 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

My Favorite Customer

Summary: You’ve been buying weed from your new dealer for a few months now. Always leaving it in your mailbox while you’re at work, you two never cross paths until one Friday night when you come home early.

word count: 3k

Warnings: None really besides some kissing at the end. This just a little meet cute with our favorite weed dealer. (Not meant to be a series, just a fluffy one shot) mentions of weed obviously.

A/N: I missed Eddie and this idea came to me based off my real life of buying weed from my weed man for over a year. Have yet to come face to face with him, but there’s always weed in my mailbox when I need it lol. For my twin @boomhauer and thank you @superblysubpar for helping me find my Eddie voice again.

Lifting up the lid of your mailbox, the smirk that tugs at your lips can’t be stopped when a fresh bag of weed sits inside, his usual hand written note attached making your face hot. You look both ways before snatching the eighth quickly scuffling back into your apartment like you were hiding a pound of cocaine and not just enough green to last you a few days.

It had been like this for a while with Eddie. You’d call him up by the number given to you from Robin who swore up and down that he was the best.

You remember thinking his voice was cute the first time you heard it, and you started to wonder if he thought the same after the third call. A flirty edge hidden behind his words every time he’d pick up and realize it was you.

“Ahhh my favorite customer.” He’d tease starting to get these calls multiple times a week.

It wasn’t your intention to never meet Eddie, it’s just how it always seemed to happen. That first time you talked he could hear the desperation in your voice. The stress from the move here and starting your new full time job fresh out of high school, he could tell you needed to relax. Rattling off times he could come by, none of them ever lining up to match with yours.

“You got a mailbox or somewhere I could stash it?” He finally gave in after exhausting almost every other option.

“You’d do that?” You couldn’t help but be embarrassed by the obvious excitement in your voice and he just laughed.

“If the money’s there sweetheart, why not?” The nickname made your heart skip a beat biting your lip to try and hide your smile.

You don’t even know what he looks like.

So this is how it started playing out after that, you’d call with your order and he’d make you blush every time he’d kick the flirting up to ten.

Instantly comforted by his mellow voice, you found yourself looking forward to those few minutes so much that you weren’t sure if the amount you were smoking was from stress or from just wanting to hear his voice again. Then he started adding little notes to your deliveries and now you were almost positive it was the second.

His sloppy handwriting started appearing on each bag with the word ‘favorite’ always scribbled at the top.

Cheeks heating up the first time it showed up, you couldn’t stop trying to imagine what he looked like. Too scared to ask Robin, you knew she’d just follow your intrigue with a line of questioning of her own.

Settling for the vague faceless man you’d conjured up in your clever mind. You let the memory of his voice be the thing that secretly encouraged the movements of your fingers between your thighs every night.

—

Friday morning had you waking up with a smile, your stash low enough to do the thing you’d been thinking about since you hung up the last time. Taking a deep breath you dialed his number that you now had completely memorized. It only rings three times before his voice fills your end of the receiver.

“Is this who I think it is calling me this early in the morning?” The grin in his voice is evident when he answers.

Shuffling your feet nervously, the smile on your own face was starting to make your cheeks hurt.

“Do you always answer the phone like this?” You wonder if he can hear yours too.

“Only if I know it’s you.”his tone sends a shiver up your spine, legs pressing together on their own accord.

“And how’d you know that it was me Eddie?” You draw out his name sweetly, silently squealing when you hear the hitch in his breathing from it.

“Because sweetheart, you’re the only one who calls this early for weed.” catching the way he almost whispers the last part, you hear a gruff voice in the background.

“Boy if you don’t leave soon!”

“Sorry, is that a problem? I just wanted to catch you before it was too late.” The urge to crawl in a hole is strong as you slap your palm on your forehead.

Your eagerness to talk to him becoming more than obvious, the man yelling at him in the background definitely wasn’t helping your new bashfulness.

“Pshh are you kidding me? I love it. Get to start the morning off talking to my favorite girl.” He lays his response on thicker than syrup. Your palms start to sweat noting the way he didn’t say customer for the first time.

Your embarrassment subsides for a split second before the voice from before cuts in again.

“If I get another call that you were late again, boy I swear to -“

The line shuffles on the other end and all you can hear is the sounds muffled arguing before another loud rustle, his voice returning with more irritation in it than you’d ever heard before.

“You want the usual?” He’s short when he answers and you know it’s not supposed to be directed at you, but you can’t help but squirm.

“Y- yeah if that’s okay?” You didn’t mean to give yourself away by stumbling over your words, but when you do Eddie makes a quick recovery.

“More than, listen you have a good day at work today Sweetheart. I really gotta go, but check your mailbox when you get home.” Hanging up before you get a chance to finish saying goodbye you hear Eddie yell “I”m leaving alright?!”

——

Work was exceptionally slow for a Friday night, the unexpected thunderstorm that rolled through killed any possibility of a dinner rush. Cutting you less than half way through your shift, your giddy excitement couldn’t be contained. Friday evenings had become non-existent since you started at Enzo’s. So when the opportunity to actually have one came around you couldn’t turn it down. Stopping at Family Video on your way home, Robin helped you pick out something she swore was good while you did your best to ignore the eyes her friend Steve was giving you.

Strumming your fingers against the steering wheel while you listened to Kiss a little too loud, the heavy rain turned into something less than a light drizzle as your tires splashed through puddles. Planning out your evening alone you didn't even think of what this could mean as you pulled into your parking spot hours earlier than normal.

Too caught up in trying to land the notes to I Was Made For Loving You, you didn’t see the van parked in front of your small complex. Head in the clouds with the possibilities of the night mixed with your bad habit of looking down when you walked, you didn’t see who was right in front of you. The sound of the voice you’d been daydreaming for months about cuts through your mumbled singing. Stomach dropping to the floor when you hear

“Son of a bitch.”

Freezing in place, your eyes slowly trail up towards your front door. Standing at almost six feet tall was a curly haired metal head. Mumbling profanities as he struggled against the lid of your mailbox, his jacket looked caught on something. Broad shoulders covered by a battle vest adorned with a giant Dio patch, you still couldn’t see what his face looked like as he struggled with the sleeve of the leather jacket beneath. Taking in his ripped black jeans and scuffed white Reebok’s, your heart was already threatening to beat out of your chest. If his face was cute, you knew you’d be fucked.

A few more violent tugs of his arm, he finally breaks free as your mailbox creaks dangerously close to coming unhinged off the brick wall. His zippers jingle as he shakes out his wrist, flipping up a ring clad middle finger he chuckles proudly to himself before turning around. Big brown eyes meet yours like a deer in headlights, so cute they punch the air out of our lungs.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Brows furrowed under messy bangs his eyes go from your stunned face down to the keys in your hand with your VHS tape before he takes in your frame. Catching the way they linger just long enough to still be polite. He meets your shocked stare as something clicks in his head. A dimple filled smile pushes past his plush lips, yours threatening to do just the same at the sight.

“Eddie?” Surprised you were able to get his name out of your mouth, his face seems to light up even more as his suspicions were confirmed.

“That depends.” Rocking on his heels he crosses his arms over his chest “Favorite, is that you? Cause boy, you’re even cuter than you sound.”

Blood rushing to your cheeks hearing your nickname in person like this, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth at his compliment.

“That depends.” Looking up at him from under your lashes the dimples in his cheeks deepen at your response.

Twirling one of his curls over his lip, you notice all of his rings “What if it’s your favorite weed dealer?”

Cuter than anything you could have conjured up in your mind you were silently scolding yourself for not meeting him sooner. Straightening your shoulders a little you take a few strides closer to him, watching as his eyes don’t try to hide as they take all of you in.

“I’m sure you call all the girls that, but yes it’s me Eddie.” Smiling bigger than you can help, it’s his turn to take a couple steps closer.

“Nah, that nickname is just for you sweetheart.” Standing close enough to catch hints of corner store cologne trying to cover up cigarette smoke, everything about him made your brain short circuit. Looking down at the movie in your hand his eyebrows raise in disbelief before meeting your eyes again. “Alien?”

“Robin suggested it to me for my unexpected night off.” Flipping it over in your hand to read the back, you could feel his stare on your face rather than on the tape. “Ever seen it?” glancing up at him, he doesn’t try to hide what he was actually looking at.

Nodding, he grins down at you “Buckley’s got great taste.”

Catching the double meaning in his words an electric current that could light up all of Hawkins dances between your bodies. Static vibrating from your fingertips, you couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped between your lips.

The raindrop that hits you between the eyes is jarring, you blink fast before more start a slow and steady decent splattering all around. Raising a large hand up to try and shield his curls he looks annoyed that Mother Nature was cutting his time short.

“I hate to deliver and dash sweetheart, but I don’t wanna keep you in the rain.” Doe eyes taking in your face like he was trying to commit it to memory he moves to step around you.

Panic rises and constricts around your chest as you watch his retreating form, biting the inside of your cheek you work up enough courage to do something you’ve never done. Make the first move.

“Doyouwannwatchitwithme?” Words jumbled together and almost yelled as they fell out of your mouth, your mumbled nonsense stops him dead in his tracks. Turning around, having his full attention like this was making it even harder.

“Come again princess?” The new nickname threatens to send you six feet under when you feel your knees shake. Clearing your throat you gather whatever confidence you can muster under the intensity of his stare.

“Do you want to come watch this movie with me?” Using it as a makeshift umbrella you start walking backwards towards front door “I actually just got this pretty good shit delivered you should try it.”

The smile that breaks across his face is infectious, feeling it in the way your lips stretch so much it makes your cheeks hurt.

“Oh yeah? I mean if you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, that guy’s got the best shit in town sweetheart.” The laugh he pulls from you, he swears it makes your face glow. “I’d be honored favorite, I thought you’d never ask.”

—-

Your living room lays in a blanket of haze from two joints successfully smoked, touches lingering more and more as you two passed them back and forth. Half way through the movie you were giggling through cupped fingers leaning into him as you both sank deeper into the cushions of your couch. His bad jokes and over the top commentary kept you both laughing with shoulders pressed together for support. Neither one of you making any effort to move when you both finally calm down.

Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you were mesmerized by how handsome he was this close. Your stare following the curve of his round nose to the fullness of not one but both his lips, a light sheen coating them from being freshly licked. The sharp planes of his jaw lead you to the thickness of his neck, catching the silver chain that disappears into his shirt.

Time is an illusion in your foggy brain - especially under his spell, losing yourself trying to remember every curve and scar on his face you stare long enough to to get caught. Chocolate eyes connecting with yours, the corners of his lips tug up and like looking in a mirror yours do you.

“Hey favorite”quiet enough for just you to hear, there’s a soft rasp in his voice from all the smoking.

“Hey Eddie”biting your bottom lip, his eyes watch the way your teeth scrape across the silk of it.

Leather creaking loud enough to hear over the sound of the movie and the rain outside, he drapes his arm over the back of the couch. The dip pulling you deep into the warmth of his chest.

“Is this okay?”for the first time you see a hint of nervousness in his eyes as he tries to read the expression on your face.

Nodding you slide a tentative hand up his chest feeling his muscle twitch under your palm, looking up at him you repeat his own question.

“Is this okay?”

His hand reaches up to cup the side of your face, the weed helping you melt into his touch as the pad of his thumb traces your cheekbone. Searching your eyes for any sign of protest he nudges his nose with yours. The heat of his breath fans across your parted lips as your eyes flutter closed completely overcome by him being this close.

“Sweetheart, if I’m reading this wrong please tell me now.” Your top lip brushes with his bottom when he asks the question and you think you might combust if you don’t close the gap.

Tilting your head just enough to get what you want, your lips move together like it was something they’d been doing for years. Each lazy drag setting your skin ablaze.

Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip he quietly asks you for more. Granting him access to something you’re sure you’ll never deny him, you don’t hesitate to let him deepen the kiss.

Tongues meeting each other in the middle, they battle for dominance as your fingers find their way into the thickness of his curls. Tugging slightly, you smile into the kiss when a groan erupts from deep in his chest.

With the rest of the world long forgotten, the two of you stay like this for longer than you can keep track of. Hands exploring curves and grabbing hips, it almost becomes too much when you nip his bottom lip.

Eddie’s the one who breaks away reluctantly when the need for oxygen becomes too much, and his body starts to react a little too strongly to your touch. The screen on the TV had gone blue long ago when the movie ended, leaving your dark living room in its pale bright light. The coloring of it all hitting his face just right.

Nudging his nose with yours he leans his head back against the cushions of the couch. Chocolate eyes looking at you through half closed lids, a lazy smile spreading wide across his kiss swollen lips.

“We should probably stop, and I should probably go.”jutting his bottom lip in a pout he catches the disappointment you try to hide flash behind your eyes. “Not that I want to, I just actually had other stops that I was supposed to make tonight, but it’s not like I was going to say no to you inviting me to hangout.”snorting like that was the craziest thing he could ever imagine, his face lights up when he earns a laugh from you.

“Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed if I was them.” Using his chest to try to push yourself up with your hands, he stops you from getting too far. Collecting your lips one last time, he only lets you pull away enough for your noses to stay touched.

“Besides having a few more drop offs, I’m hoping the next time I kiss you like that is after you let me take you on a date?”catching the nerves in his voice, you couldn’t actually believe he thought you’d say no.

“Bold of you to assume there’s going to be a next time.”raising a brow you do your best to remain straight faced as he narrows his eyes at you.

He brushes his lips lightly against yours again before asking “there’s not?”

Giving in almost instantly you add pressure pushing yourself closer, chuckling as he pulls away, you stop trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to spread across your own face.

“Fine, you caught my bluff.” Huffing in mock annoyance, this time he lets you push yourself up.

It still takes another thirty minutes for Eddie to work up enough willpower to get off the couch, your easy conversation and pouty soft lips making it a near impossible feat.

More stolen kisses and stumbled words fill the empty space on the walk to the front door followed by even more before he finally goes. Sweet just like the nickname he gave you, he couldn’t wait to make you his.

——

taglist: @munsonology @munsonmunster @elthreetimes

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn

5K notes · View notes

ch3rrytales · 2 years ago

Text

i couldn’t be more in love - steve harrington

a/n: hi! here’s a lil angsty steve one shot for y’all (unedited) this is my first time writing steve so please be gentle with me. requests are currently open. thanks for reading and as always all support and criticism is extremely appreciated! hope you enjoy, lots of love - florie <3

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s fears of not being good enough for you cause him to end your four year relationship and leave you heartbroken. even though he tries his best to move on and let you go, his undeniable need to protect you results with you in his bed at the end of a night out.

word count: 7.8k

warning(s): cursing, crying, drinking, mention of weed, parental pressure, throwing up, angst, mentions of insecurity about self worth, smut, no use of y/n, steve and reader are 19/20.

“Ignore it.” Robin said, pushing an overflowing red solo cup into your hand, lukewarm beer sloshing over the rim to drip down your arm.

You shot her a glare and huffed, “I’m trying to.”

She stepped in front of you, blocking your line of vision to who you had been staring daggers at in the corner of the room.

Steve Harrington. Your ex-boyfriend. Your twin flame. Your soulmate. The love of your life.

And her. His new fling.

They had been going at it for the past 5 minutes, they hadn’t even stopped to catch their breath.

You could remember when you and Steve were like that, attached at the hip, disgustingly affectionate.

You weren’t even sure when you had stopped being like that. All you knew was that three weeks ago he had sat you down, taken your hands in his own, eyes glossy, and said the words you had hoped you would never have to hear from his mouth.

“I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

The second he said it you felt something inside of you drop, trickle all the way down to the tips of your toes and onto the floor, it’s absence leaving your whole body cold. When you and Steve started dating, a comfort that you had never been familiar with before found a home in you and put you at ease for the first time in your life. When you were with him your head and heart were so full of love that any familial or personal pressures that typically plagued you were forced out, there was no more room for them. Your parents overbearing wishes and your perpetual fear of failure were overpowered by his sheer admiration of you, it had always been said that you were destined for greatness in all your endeavors, but Steve never really wanted greatness, he only wanted you. Until he didn’t.

Now you watched them and fought to ignore the pain stabbing into your heart. While his hands roamed over her body you thought back to a better time, a sweeter time.

- - -

Steve slung his arm around your shoulders as you walked past a group of football players who were passing around a poorly made bong on the front porch. They shouted various greetings to your socially esteemed boyfriend who returned their welcome with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

You tilted your head to speak into his ear as you passed through the front door.

“Whose house is this again?”

“You remember Jimmy? I introduced you two at my house last week.”

“Right.” you remembered, one of Steve’s teammates from basketball. “And you’re sure it’s okay that I came, you know without an invitation?”

Steve’s lips twisted up into a lazy smirk and he couldn’t help himself from pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“You’re my plus one, baby. Course it’s okay.”

As you made your way through the party you tried not to feel intimidated by the amount of people flocking to your boyfriend, guys pulling him into half assed hugs, and girls pressing into him, their glossed lips wrapping around sultry hellos.

Steve didn’t seem to pay it any mind, he kept his arm wrapped tightly around your waist ushering you through the crowd until you had reached the drink table in the center of the kitchen. He lifted you up so you sat in front of him atop the counter and shuffled his way between your thighs.

“Whaddya drinking?” he crooned, smooth as always.

“Dunno.” you mumbled, lost in the way his eyes burned into you.

“You want something sweet, honey?” he teased, his hands finding a home just above your knees.

You nodded dumbly as his fingertips traveled up and dipped just under the hem of your skirt.

“Me too.” he agreed and laughed softly, motioning to his lips with the point of his finger. “Lay it on me.”

You pecked him once leaving your cheeks warm and he hummed contently against you before pulling away.

“Alright, now that we’ve got that sorted. How bout a shirley temple?”

He started pouring soda and grenadine into a cup of ice, dumping in two shots of vodka to finish it off while you watched, your feet lazily swinging from where they hung above the ground.

“Cherry on top?” he asked, pulling a jar of maraschino cherries from the door of the fridge.

“Please.” you replied, sticky sweet.

“Well fuck.” he scoffed, twisting the lid off. “I’d cut my right arm off if you asked like that, honey.”

- - -

You were slowly nursing your second drink of the night and had no desire for a third. In all honesty what you really wanted to do was walk home and hide in your bed but you knew that wouldn’t be happening, Robin wouldn’t allow it.

She had practically dragged you from your tear soaked sheets and forced you into the little red skirt and matching cropped angora sweater you had bought impulsively as a post breakup gift for yourself.

“You really need to get out.” she said while you begrudgingly swiped mascara through your lashes, just a few hours earlier.

“I’m not ready yet, Robs.” you complained, turning in your vanity chair to face her. “What if he’s there? What if he’s with that girl?”

“That girl” being Donna, a stunning hair stylist who worked at the salon across from Family Video. Robin had been keeping you filled in on their budding romance since it began, how she had come in one Tuesday and slid a gum wrapper scribbled with her number across the counter with her perfectly polished nails while Steve was helping her checkout. He had taken her out that weekend and they had been seeing each other casually since.

Robin threw a fashion magazine she was flipping through on your bed to the floor, “Who cares? You know I love you and I wouldn’t want to say anything to upset you while you’re-” she paused to grimace at the pile of soggy tissues covering your nightstand. “...fragile. But, obviously he’s moved on and it’s killing me to see you still stuck on him when you’re so clearly out of his league.”

You stared at her blankly, “I’m out of his league?”

“Duh! This is Steve Harrington we’re talking about, I once watched him have a 20 minute “lightsaber duel” with Henderson using a mop.”

You scrunched your nose trying to hide the fact that you found that incredibly endearing and not at all dorky before you responded, “Yet he’s the one who dumped me.”

She sighed in full dramatics flinging her head off the end of your bed so she was staring at you upside down, “Exactly! What kind of a dingus would do that?”

You frowned at yourself in the mirror before powdering your nose for the third time, “Someone who’s moving on to better things.”

“I call bullshit.” she declared. “How does it get better than you? Once you get yourself all pretty and a couple of drinks in your system you’ll forget who Steve Harrington even is.”

“Doubtful.” you retorted.

Robin came behind you, her expression pitiful as it reflected in your mirror. “But, would it kill you to try?” she asked hopefully.

You shrugged and swiped a cherry scented gloss across your lips, “It might.” you said honestly. “But, I guess I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Robin beamed at you through the mirror and smacked a kiss to the top of your head before practically skipping to the other side of your bedroom.

“Well, then hurry.” she said, pulling her pin-covered denim jacket over her shoulders. “We leave in 10.”

Now that you were at the party, staring at the person you loved more than anything in the world with his tongue down another girl's throat, you realized you did have something to lose, the contents of your stomach.

You turned to Robin, who was beside you eyeing a girl who had come into Family Video last week in search of any Molly Ringwald movie she could get her hands on.

“I think I’m gonna yack.” you whispered.

“What?” she questioned. “You’ve hardly had anything to drink.”

“It’s not the alcohol making me queasy.” you replied, gesturing to Steve and Donna pressed against the wall opposite to you.

“I thought I told you to ignore him?” she said, still slightly distracted.

“Easier said than done.”

She took a moment to look at you, her best friend. It honestly hurt her to see you so down on yourself. All she wanted was for you to have a good time after weeks of sobbing in her arms and isolating yourself in your room. She looked around the room until her gaze fell upon a beefy blonde eyeing you from the beer pong table.

“You wanna play a game of pong?” she said, gesturing to the table.

“Not really.” you replied, your eyes unmoving from Steve’s back.

“Too bad.” she decided, tugging you behind her.

“Robinnn” you complained, following her.

When the two of you reached the table the blonde in question sauntered over to you, drinking you in with his stare.

“You girls up for a game?” he shouted over the music.

You shook your head timidly while Robin replied, “Absolutely.”

The boy pulled you into his side with an arm around your back and spoke into your ear, “You’re on my team, babe.”

You looked helplessly to Robin who only nodded and mouthed to you, “Go for it.”

“You got a partner?” he asked her. She looked around and shrugged.

You turned your focus to reorganizing the scattered cups on the table into a pyramid, your head shooting up when your new partner’s voice cut through the room.

“Harrington!” he called. “Come play, we need another person.”

Robin’s eyes widened as she tried to assess what the quickest escape for you would be.

But Steve was faster, approaching the table with Donna under his arm still unaware of your presence.

He saw Robin first, her face red and eyes locked on yours. Then he focused his attention on the man beside you who once again pulled you close and then spoke, “It’s you and her against me and this pretty thing.”

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

As quickly as he was there he was gone.

You were seconds away from crumpling to the ground when Robin pulled you from the man’s arms.

“Fuck,” she said, her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he was coming over here.”

You shook your head, dismissing her apologies. “It’s not your fault, I just-” your voice cracked and you looked at her wordlessly. “He didn’t even acknowledge me.”

She frowned and pulled you into a hug, “He’s a massive idiot.”

“Are we still playing?” The blonde asked, dumbfounded.

“Sorry, but fuck off.” Robin replied, before walking towards the kitchen, arms still wrapped around you. “We’re taking shots. Lots of them.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Robin pulled a bottle of vodka from the many assorted liquors lined up on the table in front of you.

“Y’know how they say the best way to get over someone is to get under them?” she asked, already pouring the shots.

You nodded weakly.

She shoved the tiny glass into your hand, “That’s a lie.” she declared. “The best way to get over someone is to get absolutely shit faced.”

You recalled Steve’s expression when he saw you, it was cold, not exactly unbothered but withdrawn. You recalled her hands on him, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, and her words affecting him.

You slung the glass back, the liquid bringing a welcome burn to the back of your throat. Then you took another. Then another. Then another.

Within the hour you were somewhat distracted from your heartache. You and Robin were squished together on a couch with Nancy and Jonathan, all giggling drunkenly in response to the story Jonathan was sharing of an encounter he had with an inebriated pizza delivery boy the week prior.

You had lost count of your drinks and your head was feeling increasingly heavy to hold up, making your neck ache. You didn’t really mind the pain, in fact you welcomed it, this pain was much easier to manage then the dull throbbing kind that had been tormenting your heart. Your head fell back against the cushion behind you and you felt as if the world was spinning off its axis beneath you. Your elbow dug into Robin’s side making her groan in annoyance. The lights in the room started to overwhelm you and a wave of nausea washed over you.

“Robin,” you mumbled, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hm?” she hummed in response, her head lolling to the side.

“M’gonna be sick.”

“Now?”

You swallowed thickly and shakily rose to your feet. “Right now.” you confirmed. You started pushing past people in pursuit of the bathroom, you could hear Robin behind you faintly.

“Coming,” she said. “Slow down, I'm right behind you.”

You ran up the stairs, as fast as you could in your current state, hands clawing the railing for balance. You stumbled through the hallway, checking behind you when you had reached what you hoped to be the bathroom door only to realize you had lost Robin along the way.

Your clammy hands turned around the knob and your body fell limp against the door as it swung open, fluorescent light invading your eyes. You dropped to your knees and shoved the door shut behind you, too nauseous to attempt locking it. Your hands shook as they gripped the toilet pushing up the seat before heaving roughly into the bowl.

Your eyes squinted shut as your head pounded, the music playing from downstairs was slightly shaking the foundation of the house and you were suddenly longing to be carried away and tucked into your bed.

You thought of Steve, not whoever it was you encountered downstairs. But your Steve, the one who would give you piggyback rides from the bar to where his car was parked blocks away when your feet hurt. The one who sat criss-cross applesauce on Nancy Wheeler’s bathroom floor with you in his lap, peppering your shoulders with kisses when you got too drunk last New Year’s Eve.

You brought the back of your hand to your mouth wiping roughly, your cheeks were wet with tears. You must’ve been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes, thoughts lingering on the past. When had you even started crying? You tore at the toilet paper roll beside you and balled up a sizable portion, you wiped at your eyes furiously, disregarding the mascara that was surely staining your face.

What a mess.

You shuddered at the thought of Steve seeing you like this, messy and broken and crumpled on the floor. You wondered what he would think, if he would feel sorry or just sorry for you.

As if the universe were playing some sort of cruel joke on you, while the thought floated around your head you heard the door unlatch and when you reluctantly followed the sound you saw him standing above you like some sort of awful miracle.

He looked shocked first, not expecting anyone to be in the room, but then the guilt washed over his face and you knew he had realized what he really walked into.

“Fuck, hon-.” he stuttered, his hands reaching out instinctively.

The half murmured term of endearment felt like a punch in the gut and you physically winced as he approached you.

His eyes filled with hurt at the way you reacted to his entrance, he used to scoop you up in his arms and quiet any of your pain with nothing but his presence and whispered words of comfort.

“Go,” you pleaded, your voice scratchy and raw.

“I can’t just leave you lik-” he sighed, and looked at you helplessly, as if saying what do you expect me to do. As if leaving you heartbroken and soiled on the bathroom tiles would be physically impossible for him, like he wasn’t the reason behind it.

“Are you okay?”

You sniffled and stared at the floor, “Please go.”

Steve squatted beside you and hesitantly reached out. He swallowed hard when you flinched under his touch as he pushed the hair out of your eyes, ensuring it was only mascara marring your pretty face and you weren’t physically harmed.

You refused to meet his eyes and when he tried to pull you off the ground, tugging gently on your hands, you shook your head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you protested.

“Taking you home, c’mon.”

“No,” you argued. “Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

“You’re drunk. I’m not-”

“I’m stone cold sober.” he informed, bringing his finger to his nose and then extending out as if he were doing a field test.

You finally locked eyes with him, and the unshed tears that sat brimming on your waterline seemed to drown him.

“I can’t, Steve.” you cried. “I can’t be in a car with you and…her.”

His shoulders fell a little and his expression softened ten fold.

“She’s not- I wouldn’t put you through that.” he said, as if it were obvious. “That’s why I’m not drinking,” he explained. “I already took her home, she’s babysitting her little brother tomorrow morning. She couldn’t stay late.”

You scoffed wetly, “How responsible of her.”

“Be nice.” he warned and you wanted to punch his perfect face.

“I’m not nice.” you slurred, under your breath.

“Bullshit,” he replied. “If someone hit you with their car you’d be the one to apologize.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t buy it.” he dismissed “Can you walk?”

“M’fine.” you clipped, rising to your feet while trying to ignore the feeling of the ground swaying under your feet and the pit of nausea still living in your stomach. “Gonna walk home.” you decided, pushing past him to get out of the tiny restroom.

He caught your forearm in the hallway, steadying your wobbly walk. “Yeah right. I’m taking you home. C’mon, I’m parked out front.”

You tried to tear yourself out of his grip, blaming the fluttery feeling in your stomach on your overindulgence.

“I don’t want your help. Okay?” you barked.

He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed, discouraged. “Look, I know you must hate me right now and I understand…” he paused and his expression remorseful. For a second you caught a glimpse of the man you loved, the man you still love. “Three weeks doesn’t erase four years. Please, let me take you home.”

Your will to fight him dwindled fast and you had to actively restrain yourself from embracing him and burying your face in his chest.

“Robin-” you started. “I can’t just leave her here.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly, still in complete awe of the way you cared for those lucky enough to be loved by you. “Go wait by the door, I’ll make sure she has a way home.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

“Of course.” He said, the second half of the sentence dying on his tongue. Anything for you.

You slowly made your way to the door and leaned against the wall, forcing air into your nose and out of your mouth in heavy puffs. You could feel your nerves buzzing beneath your skin at the prospect of being in a confined space with the person who dizzied you most in the world.

When Steve returned your eyes had drifted shut and your hands rested on your temples.

“Nancy and Jonathan are gonna give her a ride, they’re leaving in about an hour.” he informed. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly in response, “Thanks again.”

He hummed and opened the door for you, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your lower back and guide you out of the house.

When you got to his car he opened the passenger door, helping you in and leaning across you before you had a chance to shut it to secure your seat belt into place. Your whole body tensed when his fingers brushed against your hip and he muttered an apology.

He joined you in the car and switched on the radio before pulling away from the party in the direction of your house. Neither of you spoke as you exited the neighborhood so you laid your head against the window and watched the trees under the dim street lights as you passed by.

He turned a corner and you pressed your fingers into the leather seat beneath you to fight the unrest in your stomach that arose from the car’s motion.

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

Steve’s fingers tightened around the wheel and his eyes flicked to the side to see you looking at him timidly.

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

He couldn’t tell you the real reason behind his return, that he had been in agony imagining you at the party saddled up with some former jock, no one there to supervise your open drinks, or to ensure you had a safe way to get home.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He realized leaving again before the party was over contradicted his lie and cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You felt the sadness that had been lingering in you all night slowly turn to anger.

“Of course I’m not.” you clipped, facing out the window again.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was probably a stupid thing to say considering…” he trailed off, biting his lip so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he were to draw blood.

“Considering you dumped me and got a new girlfriend within a few weeks?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” His heart hurt at the idea that anyone but you could hold that title.

He turned into your neighborhood and you had never been more thankful to see your house in the distance, that is until you realized all the lights were still on. Your parents were still up. Fuck.

To anyone else this may not have been a big deal, you were legally an adult but that never seemed to matter to your parents who were as strict as nuns when it came to drinking.

Steve seemed to notice the lights as well because his car came to a stop a few meters before your driveway.

“Well shit.” he remarked

“I can’t go in.” you said. You knew you must’ve looked quite disheveled, most likely smelled of alcohol and while you felt much more sober since emptying your stomach you knew there would still be a sway in your walk and a slight slur to your voice.

“You can stay at mine tonight,” he offered.

You laughed in amusement and anger. “I don’t think so. I can go to Robin’s.”

“She’s staying at Nancy and Jonathan’s and they won’t even be there for another 45 minutes at least. You can sleep in the guest room.”

He put the car in drive again and started towards his place before you could argue anymore.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, nothing but the quiet hum of the radio and the drum of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When he pulled into his garage you got out before he had the chance to do anything annoying and chivalrous like open your door or help you exit the vehicle.

You stepped inside the house that may as well have been haunted, every nook and cranny linked to some fond memory you shared with your ex boyfriend. The kitchen where he had miserably failed at cooking you an anniversary dinner, the shower where he carded his fingers through your sud soaked hair, the bed where you had lost your virginity and he held you in his arms till the morning came. Every part of this house was woven into your love story and you felt suffocated within its walls.

He threw his keys onto the kitchen table and kicked his shoes into the corner as you stood frozen in front of him taking in your surroundings as if for the last time.

“You can shower if you want,” he offered. “There’s some towels in the guest bathroom.”

“Okay.” you replied coolly.

“Just stay there a sec, I’ll go grab you some clothes.”

Your eyes were glued to a slightly faded polaroid of the two of you stuck to the fridge with a Hawkins High Basketball magnet. The fridge was barren otherwise, Steve’s parents not the type to decorate with school pictures or family memorabilia. The photo had been taken the night Steve told you he loved you and the night you returned the sentiment. In the picture your cheeks were pressed together, spread taut with matching smiles. You had been so happy that night, quite opposite to how you were feeling now.

Steve startled you from your thoughts with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he followed your line of sight to the photo and spoke, “One of my favorites. You looked breathtak-”

“Steve,” you cut off coarsely. “Just stop it.”

“Sorry, I just…it doesn’t matter. Here,” he said, handing you a stack of folded clothes that you recognized as your own. “I didn’t think you’d wanna wear anything of mine and I remembered I had these in the back of my dresser.”

You accepted them with no word of thanks and tried to convince yourself that he was right, that you hadn’t wanted him to hand you a pair of boxers and one of his sweaters still lingering with his cologne.

Once you reached the bathroom you stripped yourself of your uncomfortable party attire and turned on the hot water. You stood under the sweltering stream and welcomed the burn, letting all the rage you felt for Steve bubble up and swarm your head for the entire duration of your shower.

When you finished you hastily pulled on your clothes, your skin was now scorched and your anger hot and irrational. You stormed towards his room and swung the door open with not so much as a knock. There he sat in the dark, only the moon providing any illumination. His body stretched across his bed on top of the covers, head tilted to the ceiling with nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants resting lowly on his hips.

“I hope you know,” you started, startling him with a finger pointed lethally in his direction. “I’m not going to go around thinking you’re some great guy just because you took pity and helped me tonight.”

Steve could only flick his eyes in your direction briefly, too emotionally exhausted from the night to even sit up. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Oh, of course not.” your voice dripped with sarcasm.”King Steve is just such a gentleman he couldn’t have it any other way. Don’t act like tonight was motivated by anything other than guilt.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“You brought that beautiful girl and you just carried on with her like I wasn’t even there. Then when it broke me you just had to come along and pick up the pieces.”

“I’m tired.” he muttered, your name following the statement almost inaudibly. He was tired of fighting with you, tired of seeing the way your eyes burnt into him no longer with lust but something even stronger, hurt.

“You don’t think I’m tired? You don’t think I wouldn’t give anything to close my eyes and not see her hands all over you?”

“Fine, I regret it. I should’ve thrown away her number the second she gave it to me. I should’ve never brought her to the party. Is that what you want to hear?

“No!” you cried. “It’s you who shouldn’t have come to the party and you shouldn’t have come back after you left. You could’ve just let me have this one night, I needed it.”

“I don’t regret that. I had to go to the party, you know that.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

His eyes softened, “It has everything to do with you.”

Suddenly you saw the events of the night under a completely different lens.

- - -

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

“Looks like she moved on after all.” Donna had purred in his ear.

He looked at you cozied up to someone new and saw nothing but red. He had to get out of there fast.

“Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

He searched the party desperately, only able to catch his breath when he saw Robin laid across the couch, mouth hung open, Nancy and Jonathan not far by. He forced through the crowd till he reached her and felt his heart rate skyrocket when you were nowhere to be seen. He shook her shoulder till she roused enough to open her eyes a sliver.

“Where is she?” he asked, voice urgent. “Where, Robin? Is she okay?”

Robin grumbled and rolled over but not before muttering two words, “Sick. Upstairs.”

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He had never once stayed after a party to clean, not even for his closest friends, and certainly not for some former football player he had interacted with maybe 4 times in his life who still found spitballs to be the height of comedy at the ripe age of 21.

- - -

“You were looking for me.” you realized.

Steve met your eyes and exhaled heavily, “Aren’t I always?”

You held eye contact and despite the dimness of the room he could see your chest heaving up and down with troubled breaths. You turned to leave and Steve fell back against his pillows, scrubbing his hand roughly against his face.

Just as you were about to cross the threshold into the hallway you spun on your heel and faced him again.

“Steve, I-I’m sorry okay? I don’t know why I can’t be civil with you. I feel like my whole life has been flipped upside down over the past few weeks. And I know I can’t blame you for falling out of love with me… I just can’t- I’m not ready to see you fully over us-” your voice cracked painfully in the back of your throat.

“Baby…” he sighed sadly, sitting up in his bed.

You felt tears spring to your eyes, bringing your hands to your face and then dropping them shakily. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you sorrowfully as your body finally gave out, succumbing to the tears. Before you could stop yourself your legs carried you towards his bed, falling forward on top of him and wrapping yourself around his body.

“Please- I just, I need to-”

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence but Steve always had a knack for reading your mind and he knew exactly what you meant. You needed to feel him, to hold him again, breathe in his scent, run your fingertips over his skin. He knew because the feeling was all too familiar, he felt it before he shut his eyes every night, before the sun rose through his curtains in the morning, and every moment in between.

Wordlessly he closed his arms around you and your nose pressed into his bare collarbone. His hands traveled up, threading into your hair, cradling your head against him.

“Breathe,” he cooed. With his chin tucked into your neck you could feel the wet lick of his lips when he spoke.

“I’m not fully over us,” he admitted. “Not even close.” He laughed, humorlessly, nudging his nose under your ear, “You’re honestly doing my head in.”

You let your eyes fall shut, wanting to take in every bit of this moment, unsure if you would ever experience anything like it again.

“I really miss you.” you whispered into the diminutive space between you.

A pained noise slipped out from Steve at your confession. He wished you could see the bigger picture he had sketched up in his mind, how in a few years he would be a blip in your memory, a single dim star amongst the blinding constellation of your future accomplishments.

Steve may have been considered slightly ditzy around town but he had never been stupid, he knew you were too good for him, he always knew. From that very first kiss in his BMW four years ago when the two of you were only 16 he knew that the way you felt for him would be temporary. The admiration in your eyes would fade and the curtain would fall. He wasn’t King Steve like he had been in high school, he was just Steve, plain unpromising Steve.

You had always been gifted, you were going places, you had aspirations. The only aspirations Steve could ever remember having were in regards to you, taking care of you, loving you, putting a ring on your finger, making you his wife, and eventually building a family with you. A loving happy family, nothing like the kind he had grown up with.

He wanted the best for you, and as much as it fucking devastated him he wasn’t sure that meant him anymore.

But his resolve was growing thinner, wearing down with each exhale that passed your lips to tickle his skin.

“I miss you too, honey. So much.”

“But, Donna-”

“Isn’t looking for anything serious.” he finished for you. “She’s good company but she's not you. No one is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“Why not?” you pleaded against him.

“It’s better this way. I promise, it will be.”

You nuzzled further into him, “How?” Your lips ghosted his clavicles and he trembled. “How could it be better than this?”

His leg slotted between your thighs, pressing you into him. You jumped at the feeling, a symphonic sigh exiting you against your will.

“Shit- sorry.”

You panted and shook your head. “No, don’t be. It’s good.”

He readjusted in an attempt to put some space between you, feeling himself getting sucked into your hazy arousal rapidly. You felt the familiar outline of his excitement against the side of your legs and he hissed.

“This would be real fuckin’ selfish of me.” he struggled to say while you chased his lips, yours already pouted in anticipation. He caught your face and held it in place in front of his own, searching for any lingering signs of intoxication, “You’ll never forgive me tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you said honestly. The shower and time passed had sobered you up fine.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll hate me for leading you on.”

“Are you?”

Steve pondered your question and tried not to let his face show how unsure he was of the answer. Could he really stay away from you? Would either of you ever be able to fully move on from your paramount love?

You read him like a book and grazed his chest with the tips of your fingers, bringing him back to you.

“Even if you are, I couldn’t hate you.”

He swiped his thumb across your eyebrow and watched your eyelids flutter in response. “I hate myself for hurting you.”

You leaned forward until your noses bumped and spoke into his mouth, “Then make up for it.”

Finally, Steve closed the space between you with a hungry kiss. His lips were warm and chapped against yours, his teeth scraping against the suppleness of your bottom one to pull your mouth open and allow him to show you just how sorry he was.

For the first time in weeks you felt your lungs fill with no resistance and strain against your ribcage with a welcome sort of discomfort, like an overfilled balloon you were seconds away from popping and Steve knew it.

His hips rutted against yours and one of his hands slowly traveled down from the velvet of your cheek to palm roughly at your breast. The feeling made your breath catch in your throat, coaxing a high pitched squeak out of you and Steve smiled against your lips, his teeth knocking yours.

“Feels good?” he asked.

“Mhm.” you hummed as he turned his attention to your neck, nipping and kissing the dewy surface. “Always does. You always do.”

His responsive whimper is slightly muffled by your skin but you bathe in it.

“You too.” he reciprocated. “I won’t last long if you keep talking like that, you’ll knock my fucking lights out.”

“Sorry,” you said sweetly, leaving him bewildered at how you could be so sensual and so adorable at the same time.

You sat up, straddling him. Your hands traveled south to breach the barrier of his waistband and wrap your hand around him.

He sucked in a pained breath and tugged the shirt barring his view over your head. “M’hurtin, honey. Lemme feel you.” he pleaded.

You pulled the shorts you wore down your legs leaving you bare and Steve took in the sight as if for the first time.

His hands caressed your stomach, sliding downwards until they rested firmly on your hips which twitched in anticipation.

“Somehow I forgot how perfect you are.” he revealed, his words drenched in sincerity. “No one is this perfect,” he pinched your heated skin once and you whined. “You’re a fucking novelty.”

You stared down at him and wondered if he had ever really looked at himself in the mirror. You scraped your nails lightly down his chest, “You are.”

He coughed and denied it with the shake of his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips for a loving kiss. “I’m nothing compared to you, baby.”

Desperate to get on with it you raised yourself above him hovering whilst lining him up to you. Steve watched your face as you nudged his tip against your clit, your eyebrows pulled together and mouth falling into a gaping “O” shape.

You shimmied forward a little bit and slowly started to sink onto him, pausing as soon as the tip was in. You winced at the stretch and were reminded that it had been a while since you had taken him at all, let alone like this.

“You okay?” he asked, holding you firmly in place to be sure you didn’t slip any further before you were ready.

You nodded, but stayed still. “Hurts a lil s’all.”

Steve kicked himself when he realized he had done nothing to get you ready for him. “I’m sorry, honey. I should’ve prepped you a bit. Hop off a sec.”

“No,” you protested, letting yourself drop another inch or so. “I didn’t want you to. I jus’ want you inside.” you whined as you sunk all the way down, ignoring the burn in your stomach.

Steve cursed to the ceiling as you fluttered around him and he forced himself not to lift his hips and grind even further into you.

He clenched his teeth as he spoke, “Is it painful?”

“It’s perfect.” you answered in more of a sigh than anything else.

“Yeah?” he said, reaching forward to circle your clit with the gentle movement of his thumb.

When you moaned and rolled your hips forward he praised you in a rambled jumble of words.

“Fuck. Holy fuck, baby. You're so good, so so good for me. Shit. Warm and fucking tight. God, am I making you feel good? C’mon talk to me, lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You nodded, brain fading into a lust filled frenzy. “Feels unreal, Stevie.”

You tried to raise yourself with shaky legs but he stopped you with a firm grasp.

“Wha-”

“You think I’m gonna let you do any of the work tonight? It’s not happening, baby. I’m making it up to you, remember? Lemme make you feel good, hm?”

He lifted you with hardly any effort and then pulled you down again, the drag of him against your walls pulling a series of sweet moans from you.

Repeatedly, he bounced you against him, encouraging you with candied praises every time your face pinched in pleasure or you clenched around him, dizzying his head.

After a few blissful moments you felt a wave of pleasure rush to you like the tide to a shore and you panted out a warning.

“Stevie- I’m gonna,”

“You gonna cum for me, honey? C’mon give it to me. I’m right there with you, sweet girl.”

You shook and cried out as your release drowned you, sweeping Steve into the current right alongside you.

You collapsed forward in exhaustion and he held you against his sweat slick body, peppering gentle kisses across your forehead.

“You here w’me?” he whispered.

“Yes.” you replied, voice light. You pulled yourself off of him and tried not to think about the loss, tried not to think about what would happen now.

Rolling over next to him you shivered at the cold air on your bare skin and he wordlessly tucked you under his arm and rubbed his hands up and down on your arm, sparking a friction fueled warmth.

He watched you carefully unable to decipher the thoughts behind your head for what seemed like the first time ever.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You swallowed and tilted your head up to look at him. “What happens next.” you admitted.

He nodded in understanding. “What do you want to happen?”

“Steve.” you chided. “You know what I want.”

“Honey…”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” he said shocked.

“Then what’s exactly the issue with us being together?”

“It’s complicated. It’s not about me not loving you or not wanting to be with you.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, sitting up and pulling your previously discarded shirt over your head.

He ran his hands through his sweat damp hair in exasperation. “We don’t make sense anymore,” he admitted.

You bit your lip to hide your hurt and spoke timidly, “Why not?”

“Our lives are gonna go down really different paths and I don’t want to be the douchebag high school sweetheart that holds you back from everything you’re capable of. I’m gonna end up here, working some mundane job, having a few kids and accomplishing nothing special. And that’s fine, I’m content with that but that’s not you.

You frowned at him.

“You’re meant for something bigger. Everyone knows it. I won’t give you some simple life when you deserve a grand one.”

You felt white hot anger seeping through your skin and pushed yourself off the bed bitterly. Without saying a word in response you started searching the room for your shorts, feet stomping with every step.

“What are you doing?” he asked, anxiety clear in his voice.

“I’m leaving.” you said.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care.” you hissed. “You really think you’re helping me by making decisions for me? Do I not get any say in what I want?”

“Of course you do, that’s what this is about. One day you’re gonna want more than I can offer you. I'm just trying to make it easier for you.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “You really have no idea what I want then.”

“So tell me.”

“Steve.” you said, shimmying your shorts back up your legs. “I want you. No ifs ands or buts. Have I not made that crystal clear the entire time we’ve been together?”

“You have but-”

“No, I’m not done. You’re right, I don’t want a simple life. I want to settle down here, in the town we fell in love. I want to marry you and have kids with you. I want to make dinner with you every night and after we eat I want to wash the dishes while you dry. I want to take your clothes out of the dryer and fold them while they’re still warm. I want to kiss you every night before I go to bed and roll over next to you every morning. I want us. A life where we end up together couldn’t be simple because it’s us together, and I love you so much more than any other possible outcome.”

He stared at you bewildered. “You do?”

“Yes! I’ve been in absolute hell these last few weeks over this?”

You approached him and took his hands in yours.

“Look,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry that people in your life have made you believe that you aren’t the talented, smart, capable and loving man that I know you are but none of them matter when it comes to our relationship. That’s just us, me and you. And I know,” you pressed a hand to your heart. “There’s no one in the world who could give me a better life, or love me better than you. I love you, Steve.”

He looked up at you, half sorrowfully half hopefully, “Does this mean we’re back together?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been miserable without you.” he replied.

“And who’s fault is that?” you laughed, the mood in the room beginning to mellow out into the typically comforting setting you were accustomed to when you were with Steve.

“I’m sorry I ended us and that I tried to make your choices for you.” he said. “I promise I won’t do it again. Oh, and I love you, like more than anything else in the world and I’m fucking devastated that I made you think I didn’t.”

“I love you too.” you echoed, melting into his arms once again not planning on letting go anytime soon.

He pressed his nose into your hair and smiled, lopsided. “I’ve got a lot of making up to do, y’know.”

“Good thing you have the rest of our lives.”

He tugged you onto the bed making you break into a fit of giggles as he pressed sloppy kisses over your entire face.

“I think I’ll start right now.”

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

2K notes · View notes

nosyrobin · 2 months ago

Text

Beast boy: Damian, we have something really, really important to tell you about.

(Metal ripping)

Beast boy: Damian?

Beast boy turns to Jon who is not looking at anyone. Wrapping his chest with iron he had found earlier.

Beast boy: Are you wearing iron?

Damian: *slams gun that has a green glow to it* Now, gentlemen, we’re not gonna sit here and pretend there's not an elephant in the room right as of now.

Beast boy: What the fuck is going on?

Damian: This is what the fuck is going on.

damian then slams a photo of you, his beautiful twin sister.

Beast boy looks at the photo of you and then to Jon. Silence rang out loud before a light bulb appeared of the shapeshifter’s head.

Beast boy finally realizing: Oh, shit! Oh, shit! (Laughing hysterically) Oh, shit! No!

Beast boy gets up from his seat and running out of the room.

Beast boy: That is not happening right now! No!

Beast boy runs to the other titans who certainly already kinda figured it out. Especially Raven.

Beast boy: Hey, y'all, he's fucking the demon’s sister! Yo!

Damian: Every time he says that.

Jon looked scared at his suppose friend right if this moment.

Damian: ...that's another bullet in your chest Kent...

815 notes · View notes

aphrogeneias · 1 year ago

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 — somnophilia

pairing: steve harrington x reader

warnings: consensual somno. creampie. a hint of eddie.

Your body felt like it was on fire.

That was the first thing you felt when you woke up, still slightly disoriented, in the middle of the night. You'd fallen asleep after a long night of movie marathons and passing joints, going through all three movies in the Halloween franchise, all per Eddie's requests.

The younger kids were banished to the Sinclair's for their own sleepover, while you took over the Wheeler's basement for the night. After the movies were over and you were all too high to keep functioning, you decided to go to sleep. Jonathan and Argyle headed back to Jon's place, Nancy and Robin took the room upstairs — not without some teasing that they'd have to share a bed — while you, Steve and Eddie divided yourselves between a twin mattress on the floor, and the couch.

The three of you had talked some more, as Eddie settled himself on the couch, and you and your boyfriend squeezed into the small mattress. You didn't even notice yourself falling asleep, lulled by their voices whispering in the dark, and Steve's warm weight beside, his hand on the back of your neck, thumb moving up and down, from your hair to your delicate skin.

Heat was what brought you back to consciousness. You felt hot all over, an inferno burning from the inside out. Then, you noticed him. His arms around you, his body almost all on top of you, crushing you with his weight in that delicious way you both knew you liked it. A tingling sensation between your legs, a pressure deep inside of you, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.

Your sleep shorts were pushed down your hips, just below your ass, enough for Steve to slide in without having to fully undress you. This wasn't the first time this had happened — Steve wakes up feeling needy more often than not, and you'd offer your body to him whenever he needed it. It wasn't like you didn't need him too, always craving what only he could give you.

His cock was sheathed deep in your pussy, short strokes of his hips grinding into you, his breath hot in your ear, raising goosebumps down your spine. Fully awake now, you stretched to meet his damp chest with your back, arching into him. "Steve," you whispered, "baby, fuck…"

"Hi, baby." He whispered back, laying a soft kiss on your shoulder, over the worn fabric of your t-shirt. "Gotta be quiet f'me, can you do that? Can you be quiet while I fuck you back to sleep?" Voice as sweet as honey, tongue sweeping out to lick and suck your earlobe.

You nodded while you pressed your head to the pillow you both were sharing as he picked up speed, meanwhile one of his hands sneaked down and up your shirt, grabbing one of your tits and squeezing, pulling on your nipple. You pushed your hips back as much as you could, meeting this thrusts, seeing stars behind your shut eyes, the head of his cock finding that place within you that made you scream, but having to hold back.

"Mm, shit," Steve buried his head on your neck, muffling his quiet curses, "I can feel you squeezing me. Gonna cum, honey? You can cum for me, please come for me, I'm right there with you, baby."

Your bottom lips broke and bled as you bit down at it, cumming at his command, milking his cock as he followed suit, coating your inner walls with his spend. Warmth flooded through you once more, holding onto the arm that was holding you close, feeling Steve finally relax behind you.

Silence took over the room, darkness comforting you. You were almost asleep again, with Steve still inside of you, when you heard Eddie shift and groan on the couch.

"If you're going to be loud, the least you could do is invite me to join, Harrington."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #kinktober 2023

855 notes · View notes

drops-of-june · 4 months ago

Text

CHAPTER V: Breaking The Law

• I don’t own the characters, this fanfic is based on the TV-Show Stranger Things (second season) from a Hargrove!Reader POV.

• Quick reminder to readers, I'm not a english native speaker, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. Hope you understand.

• You are not allowed to translate/repost inside or outside tumblr this fanfic.

Summary: Y/n ends up helping some kids with the search for an escaped pet and gets a new job.

Word Count: 2.7K

CHAPTER V: Breaking The Law

Y/n woke up to the sound of the alarm clock. The anxiety she had felt on her first day of school at Hawkins had been alleviated by her new friends - Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant. Their jokes, conversations, and invitation to join their activities had given her a sense of belonging. Y/n got out of bed feeling a mixture of tiredness and excitement. The night before had been intense with band rehearsal and festivities, but now she had to focus again on school.

She had been writing a letter to Sam, Molly and Adam telling them about her first experiences at Hawkins, and although she hadn't intended to write too much, she was almost two pages in. She had been writing a little at a time, ever since she left California, but she wrote most of it last night before bed. She told them mostly about Corroded Coffin, and about the D&D campaign and Lyria's new adventure. About how well they would love Eddie and the rest of the band. Jokingly promising not to replace them so quickly. Finally, she expressed to them how much she missed them and how she wished she could spend some time with them, and also wished them well in California.

When she finished, she sealed the envelope and put it in her backpack so she could mail it later.

After a quick shower, y/n changed into her favorite Crimson Chaos t-shirt and comfy jeans, along with worn converse that had been all written with pens.

Arriving at Hawkins High, y/n headed to her first class, shared with Jeff. Jeff's banter and company made her morning more bearable. In the next class, French, y/n found herself paired for an in-class assignment with a girl a few grades younger named Robin. The girl, despite being somewhat restless and hyperactive, was good at languages and they were the first to hand in their homework.

At the end of class, y/n went to the parking lot accompanied by her new friends and they stayed with her until they each had to go home. Y/n stayed behind waiting for her sister, Max, as usual. However, Max did not show up. Worried, she decided to go look for her at the elementary school.

She entered the school and started walking through the halls, until she found her trying to force open the door to the video room. Her backpack was on the floor, next to her skateboard, and she had a small wire in her hand wedged in the lock. ‘Maxine Mayfield, what are you doing?’ asked y/n, accusingly, her eyes wide with surprise. At the same instant she spoke, the girl had managed to open the door, and at the sound of her voice, she turned to her in surprise.

Before she could scold her, something came out of the room. It was some kind of fat mouse, only its skin looked more like that of a toad. Disgusted, she instinctively lifted her foot, and the animal moved on, heading down another hallway.

Behind the creature, four children came out of the video room trying to catch it, two of them colliding with Max, all three falling to the floor.

'What was that?' asked Max to one of the children.

'Dart! You let him escape!' Said a slim, lanky boy with black hair.

'What is a Dart?' Y/n asked, not receiving an answer.

'Why did you attack him?' Said a curly-haired boy wearing a trucker's cap. 'Don't hurt him!' he demanded, as the rest of the children began to search for the creature. Max followed them, and without knowing why, y/n did too.

She began to search the hallways and corridors, and some classrooms, but there was no sign of the animal. After a few minutes, she found one of the kids, he was dark skinned and had an athletic build. If she was going by what Max had told her, it was probably Lucas. They had received a message from other of the kids on the radio that Dart was in the bathroom, so they all gathered there. Dustin had been the first to arrive, but found nothing.

Y/n squinted at him. Like a good liar, she could smell lies a mile away. The boy adjusted his cap restlessly. She followed the movements with her gaze and he seemed to notice.

'Maybe Will has it.' He commented, trying to avoid y/n's gaze. Before she could ask anything, Mike stared at him and asked in alarm.

'Where's Will?'

They parted down the halls of the school again, but this time to find the boy. Max quickly explained that last year he had gotten lost in the woods, and then y/n understood the urgency in Mike's voice.

After a few minutes, she went out into the playground and began to look around. In the distance, she saw a boy standing on the training field, as she got closer, she recognized it was the little boy they were looking for. He had a bowl-cut brown hair, pale and gaunt, but somehow delicate.

'Will? Your friends are looking for you, they thought you... Will? Are you okay?' she asked, finishing her approach to him. His eyes were closed, but he didn't seem to be listening to her. Mike ran over and started calling out to him as well, getting no response. 'I'll go get help, stay with him' she asked him, Mike nodded. Y/n ran back to the school and met Lucas on the way.

'He's in the courtyard. He seems to be having a... seizure or something' She commented, not knowing how to explain it. Just then, a woman with tousled brown hair and an earnest concerned expression, came through the school door asking for the boy. It must have been his mom. Max and Dustin appeared running from other hallways. Y/n led them to where Will and Mike were, and his mother tried to wake him up, still repeating his name.

Y/n put an arm around Max's shoulders in concern, just watching the scene, unable to do anything. Just as she was about to go for help, the boy opened his eyes. Even though everything seemed normal, both his mother and his three friends still looked worried. As if something else was going on, but neither y/n nor Max received any explanation.

After Will's mother took the boy away, y/n looked at Max and told her they should go home. Max nodded silently, and the two began walking toward the parking lot. During the drive, Max didn't say a word, which worried her sister.

They got into the car and began the drive back. Y/n noticed that Max was still silent, staring out the window with a sullen expression. Finally, she decided to break the silence.

'Are you going to explain to me why you were trying to pick that lock? What's wrong with you, Max?' y/n asked, shooting a quick glance at the girl. Max sighed, crossing her arms.

'It's Mike...' She started to say, hesitantly. 'I resent him pulling me aside when the four of them are together. Like he doesn't want me to be with them.' Y/n frowned, trying to understand.

'You mean him, Dustin, Lucas and Will?' Max nodded. Y/n took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reassure Max.

'Look, Max, he probably did it because they've been friends for a long time. Sometimes it's hard for people to accept someone new, especially when they have such a tight-knit group.'

Max kept looking out the window, but the eldest could see that she was thinking about what she had said.

'Mike mentioned that there was a girl before in their group.' Y/n nodded, getting a better understanding of the situation.

'That makes sense, in a way… Maybe they're still dealing with the loss of that friend and they're having a hard time accepting someone new in her place. Don't take it personally, Max. Give yourself time and give them time too. You'll have your moment to prove to them that you're worth being their friend.' Max was silent for a few more moments, processing her older sister's words. Finally, she nodded slightly.

'I guess you're right. I just... I just wish they didn't see me as an intruder.' Y/n smiled, trying to cheer her up.

'You're amazing, Max. Don't worry, you'll see that little by little they'll get to know and appreciate you. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.' She advised her. Max smiled slightly, feeling a little better thanks to her sister's words.

Arriving home, y/n felt the need to freshen up after such a hectic day. She headed straight to her room, grabbed her clean clothes and jumped into the shower. The hot water helped her relax and clear her mind. After a few minutes, she changed her clothes and left her room, ready for a new mission. She went downstairs and found her father, Neal, sitting in the living room watching TV.

'Dad, can I talk to you for a moment?' she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Neal looked at his daughter and nodded.

'Sure, y/n. What's up?' y/n took a breath and jumped in.

'You see... A classmate of mine at school told me they're taking people to work at the local movie theater. I'd like to go and apply for a job. It would be great to have a little extra money, like I did at the movie theater in San Diego... If you don't mind, of course.'

Neal frowned, considering the proposal. For him, it meant he'd have to spend less money on y/n's whims, and besides, he'd know where she was after school, which gave him some peace of mind. Y/n knew it was rather controlling, but she didn't mind.

'Well, as long as you keep your grades up in school, I don't see why not,' Neal said finally. 'Go ahead and apply. But remember, your studies are the most important thing. Oh, and you'll still have to bring Max home from school,' he reminded her. The blonde smiled, feeling relieved.

'Yes, of course. I promise. Thanks.' Neal nodded and turned his attention back to the television, as y/n prepared to leave. 'I'll be back later.' She said by way of greeting, ruffling Max's hair as she walked past her and punched Billy's arm who looked at her with a smirk.

Working after school wasn't a financial necessity for y/n. In California she had done it as just another excuse to be away from home longer. As it happened, Neal thought it was a good idea for her to work, so that she would have more busy time to hang around with her friends. So that way, he was killing two birds with one stone.

After parking in front of the movie theater, she looked in the reflection of the mirror to check her appearance. She was dressed more soberly than usual, but it still represented her. Light jeans, her combat boots, and a plain red T-shirt with white details on the short sleeves and collar, paired with her old leather jacket.

As she walked through the doors, the aroma of freshly popped popcorn was the first thing that hit her, enveloping her in a warm welcome. It was a buttery, salty, slightly sweet smell that always managed to make her smile. In the candy area, the smell of melted chocolate and gumdrops made her think of afternoons in California, where she had worked before.

Her eyes roamed the lobby until they stopped on a boy behind the concessions counter, clearly frustrated with a soda machine. His messy blond hair fell over his forehead as he bent over, trying to solve the problem. The girl smiled, remembering her own days in California when she worked in a similar movie theater.

"Damn it, why aren't you working?" the boy exclaimed, pounding on the machine in frustration.

She approached with a calm smile. "Do you need help?" She asked, leaning slightly over the counter. The boy, wearing a name badge that read "Kyle," looked up, his expression one of relief mixed with surprise.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Kyle replied, stepping aside to give him room. "The machine got stuck and I can't get it to work properly."

After asking his permission to go around the other side of the counter, she examined the machine quickly and noticed that the syrup dispenser was clogged.

‘Sometimes the syrup dispenser gets clogged,’ She explained, inspecting the device. ‘I worked in a movie theater in California, so I've dealt with this before.’ She took off her jacket and laid it on the counter and, with skill and speed, disassembled the top of the machine. She found the blockage, a buildup of dried syrup that was preventing proper flow. Patiently, she cleared the blockage, making sure not to damage any of the delicate parts. Then she reassembled the machine and tested it. The soda came out perfectly.

‘Wow, you've got to teach me how to do that!’ the boy said, visibly relieved. ‘Thanks. Hey, as a thank you, how about a free ticket for today? My treat.’ Y/n smiled and shook her head.

"Actually, I'm here looking for a job, do you think you could help me with that?’

The boy, both surprised and relieved, nodded quickly. ‘Definitely! The girl who was in charge before, Keri, left and I can't handle everything like she did. If you want to start right now, it would be a big help.’ The blonde eagerly agreed.

‘Sure, why not?’ Relieved, Kyle showed her the basics of the job. ‘Well, it's not much different than what we had in San Diego,’ she commented, glancing around at the layout of the concessions area and the lobby. Kyle nodded.

‘You're probably not going to serve the same amount of people as you would in the big city, but it's still pretty busy, especially on the weekends. Hawkins doesn't have a lot of entertainment options, so the movie theater is pretty popular.’ Y/n looked around the place as Kyle explained the daily chores. ‘Here's the popcorn. Make sure you keep the machines full and the butter replenished. We also have candy on that shelf over there and cold snacks in the cooler over there.’ He showed her how to operate the cash register, although y/n was already familiar with the system. ‘And here are the cups for the refreshments. If the machine ever breaks down again, you'll know how to fix it, which is great because, honestly, I suck at it.’

Y/n laughed lightly, and with a precise and respectful gesture, she brought her index finger to her forehead in a salute that conveyed a clear 'at your service'. Kyle smiled back.

‘Well... There's not much more to it than that. With your experience, I think you'll adapt quickly. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me.’ Finally, he offered her an apron that identified them as employees.

Y/n felt excited as she prepared for her first shift at the Hawkins movie theater. Dressed in the black apron over her clothes, she headed toward the concessions area where Kyle was waiting for her.

‘Ready for your first day?’ asked Kyle with a smile. Y/n nodded.

‘Definitely.’

The shift progressed smoothly. Y/n quickly got used to the pace of the Hawkins movie theater. Although it was less crowded than her old job in San Diego, there was a steady stream of customers, especially families and teenagers who came to see the latest movies. As the hours passed, she began to feel more relaxed and comfortable in her new surroundings. She served customers with a smile, enjoying the small interactions and conversations. When the shift ended, y/n and Kyle took over closing duties, cleaning up the concessions area and making sure everything was in order for the next day.

‘Good job today,’ Kyle said as they closed the theater. ‘And thanks again for saving me today.’

‘You’re welcome, thank you too," y/n replied, feeling satisfied with how everything had gone. After arranging their schedules for the week, where they decided that she would work Mondays through Fridays after school, until twenty-one. Since she was still a minor, and could not have any more workload, she would have weekends off.

Arriving home, y/n found that Max had left her some P&B sandwiches on the table with a note. With a smile, she took the plate and went to her room. She lay down on her bed, and ate the sandwiches while she did her homework. When she felt that her eyes could no longer stay open, she put things aside and covered herself with the blanket, falling asleep almost instantly.

7 notes · View notes

joeys-babe · 10 months ago

Text

Joey B Blurbs: With A Little Help From My Friends

————————————————————————-

Summary: You and a few other WAGs do a prank on your boys by buying them all matching shirts for a get-together without them knowing.

Warnings: Fluff, unserious/funny, pranks

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

January 20, 2024 - *36 weeks pregnant*

“Joe, I have your outfit laid out on the island in the closet.” - you

Joe’s head snapped away from the TV and over in my direction. I'd just walked into the kitchen from getting ready upstairs. Joe sat on the couch watching The Office reruns, all cuddled up with Tyson and Miles - looking adorable.

“What? I can pick my outfit out.” - Joe

“I know, but I ordered you a new shirt that I'd like you to wear.” - you

“Oh, okay. What is it?” - Joe

“A flannel.” - you

“Mmm, okay.” - Joe

A few moments later, I sat down on the couch with my boys, but Joe left just a minute later to get ready himself.

Robin and Jimmy were coming in a bit to watch the twins while Joe and I went over to Sam’s for a get-together with some of his teammates.

The guys had no idea, though, that the WAG’s group chat had been super active the past week leading up to tonight.

A prank was to ensue, and it was that we'd all secretly ordered the same shirt for our men. We'd all show up one by one, and the guy’s reactions to matching would be hilarious.

Plus, Joe would look hot as hell in a flannel.

Half an Office episode later, Joe came bounding down the stairs. The greyish flannel looked amazing on him, giving off major dad vibes, paired with regular-fitting blue jeans that had been sitting untouched in the closet since I'd ordered them.

I let out a teasing whistle, Joe blushing at the cat-call.

“You like?” - Joe

“Yes. You look amazing, Joey. Do a little spin for me?” - you

Joe happily obliged before searching for approval in my facial expression.

“Love it. I need to start sneaking more of this style into your side of the closet.” - you

“Is that style ‘I have two kids and another on the way’?” - Joe

“Bingo. I told you, you're a DILF.” - you

“You love to remind me of that.” - Joe

“Because it's true.” - you grinned

——

There was a ring of the doorbell, and I went to stand up from the couch, but Joe ushered me to sit back down.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad. Thanks for watching the boys.” - Joe

“Oh, of course!” - Robin

Robin and Jimmy had barely made it into the house before they were ambushed by Tyson and Miles.

They happily hugged their grandbabies, and Jimmy picked up Miles in his arms.

“Where's your wife, Joseph Lee?” - Robin

“On the couch, she went to open the door, but I waved her off.” - Joe

Robin gave her son a proud nod, grateful that he was treating his pregnant wife as he should.

The five of them eventually walked back into the living room, and Joe plopped back onto the couch next to me, putting his arm around me on the back of the couch.

“You look great, y/n!” - Robin

“Aww, thank you. I'm feeling great as well. Baby girl is treating my bladder a lot better than the twins did.” - you laughed

“That's good! I love your dress, makes your bump pop.” - Robin grinned

“Joe actually picked it out.” - you

I put a hand on Joe’s chest and smiled up at him, a glint in his eye when he returned the soft grin.

“Wow, I would’ve never expected that.” - Robin

Laughing, I understood where she was coming from. My dress was a solid black, nothing like anything in Joe’s side of the closet.

“I picked his outfit out, though.” - you smiled

“That was my next question! That style looks good on you, Joey. You look very adult.” - Robin

“Thank you? I think.” - Joe

“It was meant to be a compliment. I think so, at least…” - Jimmy

A few seconds of laughter went by before Joe patted my thigh and spoke up.

“Ready to go, babe?” - Joe

“Sure!” - you

Joe stood up before turning around to me and putting a hand out to help me up.

Once I was on my feet, Joe let go of one of my hands but still held the other.

“We’ll be back later!” - Joe

He led me over to the garage door of the house and grabbed his keys to the Porsche off of the hook.

Sweetly, Joe walked me over to the passenger side of the car and opened my door for me, along with helping me sit down before shutting the door back.

“Whatcha wanna listen to?” - Joe

Joe always joked about my passenger princess ways, but here he was, offering me to pick the music before I even asked.

In the end, I pulled up my Spotify playlist “’60s-’70s Love Songs” and shuffled it.

Looking over at Joe as he backed out of the driveway, I giggled as he playfully rolled his eyes with a smile on his face at my music selection.

For dramatic effect, I grabbed onto Joe’s shoulder and sang Be My Baby by The Ronettes into my hand like I was holding a microphone.

“You're crazy.” - Joe laughed

“But you love me.” - you

“That I do, my baby.” - Joe

——

I had my arm looped with Joe’s as we stood on Sam’s front porch. Joe had just rung the doorbell and now we're waiting for an answer.

Squeezing his bicep lightly, Joe’s eyes darted to me.

“You okay, Mama?” - Joe

“Mhm. Just love you in this shirt.” - you grinned

Just a few seconds later, the front door swung open, revealing Sam.

“Hey, Burrow’s! Woah- what the hell? Joe, are we matching?” - Sam

I giggled to myself as Joe and Sam looked down at their flannels and then at each other.

“That's weird man, but I def wore it better.” - Joe

Sam rolled his eyes before stepping to the side to let Joe and me inside the house.

I immediately greeted Jess, who complimented my pregnancy glow, and while we were deep into conversation, the doorbell rang again.

When Sam opened the door, Jess and I exchanged knowing looks at each other.

On the front porch, Cody Ford and Evan McPherson were laughing about the fact they had matching shirts on while Tianna and Gracie stood to the side laughing.

“What the hell!” - Sam

“You guys have it too?!” - Evan

Joe was full-on cackling, and I couldn't help but mirror my husband.

The girls walked over and sat next to me and Jess, our boys all pointing at each other’s shirts while laughing.

Thirty minutes later, over ten more guys had shown up, all in the same flannel, and Joe and his guys found it hilarious each time.

The girls and I all sat in a corner of the living room, recording and laughing at the reactions coming out of the guys.

They really were adult toddlers, but that's what makes being married to one fun.

After dinner, Joe found me by myself in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me from behind. At first, I couldn't tell who it was because all the guys here had the same long-sleeved shirt on, and all I could see were the person's arms.

The thought didn't last too long when I saw the wedding ring on the person’s finger that was too unique to be anyone other than Joe.

“Hi, Mama.” - Joe

“Hi, Joey.” - you

“Can I ask you a question?” - Joe

“Of course.” - you

With Joe’s hands on my bump, I covered them with my own and let my head fall back onto his chest/shoulder.

“Who wore the shirt best?” - Joe

“I'm kinda biased, but you, for sure.” - you

“Yeah?” - Joe

“Mhm, I'm gonna start sneaking more flannels into your closet.” - you

“I'll wear ‘em if they get a good reaction out of you.” - Joe

“Oh, you know they will.” - you giggled

I turned around in Joe’s arms and looked into his gorgeous blue eyes, my hands on his chest.

Slowly, Joe leaned in and pressed his lips onto mine.

A minute later, we were still kissing. The craving for each other was never satisfied, but we were interrupted by a loud, fake, gagging sound.

“For the love of god, she's already pregnant! You guys are disgusting!” - Ja’Marr

I leaned my head onto Joe’s chest with a giggle as he glared at one of his best friends.

“Ja’Marr, get the fuck away!” - Joe

Ja’Marr threw his arms up in surrender before walking out of the kitchen. Joe turned back to me with a sly grin on his face.

“Sorry, Mrs. Burrow. Where were we?” - Joe

I’d never get tired of him calling me that.

“Mmm, I think we might've been kissing.” - you

“Let's test that theory.” - Joe

Just as Joe was leaning in, our lips brushed together, but something made him pull back.

“Y'all nasty!” - Ja’Marry whisper yelled

“Ja’Marr!!” - Joe yelled

Sure, they got annoying sometimes, but deep down, Joe knew he wouldn't get by without a little help from his friends. Even if said help was unwanted.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: y'all, I ground out a fic for you guys. 💀

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

520 notes · View notes

elly-grace · 7 months ago

Text

Game day surprise

Pairing: joe burrow x reader

Word count: 1339

Today was the day, the day your husband took the field for the first time since November of last season. The first game of the regular season was here The Bengals versus the Tennessee Titans. Preseason went by in a blur, Joe didn’t play preseason due to fear of reinjuring his wrist. Joe wasn’t happy with the decision, but he supported his coach's choice.

Joe woke up at 7:30 that morning, he knew he had to get to paycor early enough to do his pregame ritual. He tried his best not to wake you but as soon as he got out of bed the empty feeling woke you.

“Joe come back to bed.” you spoke softly.

“I can’t, baby. I need to go to the stadium.” he mourned. He wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with his wife. The temptation to go back to bed was strong but he knew that he needed to complete his ritual. He took steps towards You and placed a quick peck on your nose,your nose crinkled as you let out a small laugh. You then pull your husband into a quick goodbye kiss.

“Please let me know when you get to Paycor I don’t want to worry about you.”

“I’ll send you a text. I love you, see you later.”

“I love you too, now go” you said.

He pulled you in for one more kiss and started to leave, when you thought about telling him about the positive pregnancy test.

“Joe.”

He turned around after hearing his name.

“Yeah?”

“I’m-” upon further thought you decided this wasn’t the time. “Nothing good luck today.”

Joe looked at you concerned, “Are you sure it's nothing?”

“Yes, now go!” you said with a smile.

“You can tell me everything, I don’t believe it's nothing.”

“I promise you it's nothing Joe, I love you.”

You knew Joe would be happy with the news you have been trying to get pregnant since the twins turned two.

After Joe left you couldn’t fall back asleep instead opting to clean the house a little bit. True to his word Joe texted you around 8:15 letting You know he made it to the stadium safely. At around 8:30 you decided to get yourself ready. You rummaged through your closet looking for something to wear. You were already starting to show a tiny bit so finding something that wouldn’t show your tiny baby bump was hard. Finally you found an orange dress that wasn’t tight fitting. You finished getting ready by putting your hair up in a ponytail. Walking downstairs you see the front door open, you quickly turn around and go back up the stairs.

“Good morning”

You knew the voice right away. It was Robin. You let out a sigh upon hearing her voice. Joe gave Robin a key to the house for when she watches Logan and Leo. But you didn’t expect her to be here right now. You walked down the stairs to greet your mother in law.

“You scared me! I didn’t know you were coming over today.”

“Joe called me, he said you were acting weird. He is worried about you”

You checked your watch and saw the time, it was honestly an attempt to avoid telling her why you were acting weird.

“Oh won’t you look at the time, I have to go get Logan and Leo ready.”

“What's going on? You are acting strange.” she expressed, concern was clear on her face.

“It’s nothing.” you brushed off trying to walk away.

Then it hit her, call it mothers intuition. A smile grew on her face at noticing a certain glow she'd only seen on you once before.

“You're pregnant aren't you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Your face paled as sadness covered your features.

“Surprise” You said softly, you wanted Joe to be the first one that knew.

Upon seeing your face Robin became worried.

“Why are you sad?”

“I’m not, I just haven’t told Joe yet. I mean the last time I was pregnant I went into Labor during the biggest game of his NFL career. It distracted him, he had a chance to win the superbowl. But Logan and Leo distracted him, I distracted him.”

“You think he cares about losing that game?” she looks at you, all you can do in response is nod. “He couldn’t care less because even though they lost the game, it was the day you welcomed your two beautiful boys into this world. He loves you and them more than this sport. You guys have been trying to get pregnant for a while now. He called me after every negative test. He wouldn’t admit it but I could tell he was sad. You need to tell him, he is going to be so happy.”

You offer Robin a small smile knowing she's right. The boys run down the stairs and jump on Robin.

“GRANDMA!” they both yell as they see her, she smiles and gives them both hugs.

“Alright you two let's get you ready so we can go see daddy play.” You ushered the kids back up the stairs.

“I’ll tell him tonight.”

You followed the boys up the stairs.

They both wore their burrow jersey’s and blue Jean shorts. As soon as they were ready they ran downstairs.

“Oh won’t you look at you two!” Robin said, standing up from the couch. “Hey, why don’t we take my car. Jim and I will take them tonight so you and Joe can talk.” She smiled at you.

“Are you sure?” You questioned.

“Of course”

“Thank you!” You give her a hug.

“How far along are you?” She pulled away from the hug with a questioning look on her face.

“5, maybe 6 weeks.”

“You’ve kept this from him for this long?”

“I mean my husband is a very hard man to sit down and have a full blown conversation with right now. Plus I only just found out for sure, I met with my OB yesterday.”

“Yeah Joes been on the go recently.”

“I promise he’ll know today.”

She smiles as you two walk with the twins to robin's car. Each of you buckled in one of them before getting in yourself.

The car ride was silent, the only noise was the music on the radio playing quietly.

Once you arrive at paycor you get out of the car and grab your boys. Walking into paycor you see Joe about to head to the locker room. Security let you in instantly without checking your id knowing who you were. Joe noticed you and ran up to you.

“Why are you guys here so early?” He asked then gave you a kiss.

“We wanted to see you practice today.”

“I’m so glad you're here baby! I was worried about you this morning.” He said giving you a tight hug, that’s when he felt the bump. He pulled away and gave you a questioning look similar to the one Robin gave you earlier. “Are you? Are we?” He couldn’t contain his happiness.

“Pregnant? Yes, I’m sorry I kept it from you, I just wanted to make sure.” He smiled and picked you up and spun you around.

“I can’t believe it.” He beamed and gave you another kiss.

“Now go get ready, I love you.”

“I love you too!”

Logan and Leo see their dad and run to hug his leg.

“Good luck daddy!”

“Thanks boys! Luckily my lucky charms are here.” He said picking up Leo and giving him a hug before doing the same with Logan.

“Okay guys let’s let dad go get ready!”

The frown on the faces of the two little kids was enough to make you cry.

“Mommy don’t cry.”

“I’m okay boys, let head to the box”

Making your way back to Robin you all made your way to the box. Safe to say that was one of the best games Joe has ever played after finding out the news.

Requested by @funnyjb

Thank you I hope you enjoyed!

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #nfl x reader #nfl #FOOTBALL IS ALMOST BACK!!

261 notes · View notes

stevesgother · 1 month ago

Text

I Don't Want You Like A Bestfriend - S.H

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 2.3k

Warnings - mentions of anxiety, reader not liking large gatherings, swearing, alcohol (reader works at a bar). As always, let me know if I missed anything!

AN - Part 2 of the Dress mini series! This could technically be a standalone fic, but for the full context I would recommend reading part 1 :)

Dress Series - Pt 1, Pt 2

December 1987

2 bowls of popcorn and 4 movies later, you’re laying on opposite ends of your twin bed with your best friend; gossiping lazily with droopy eyelids.

“I cannot go to their wedding without a date, Rob.” looking at her exasperated, “That’s like, totally embarrassing! Steve’s gonna have this Madonna-ey, bombshell blonde and with giant boobs and I'm gonna bring who? My cousin? Not happening.” You say with finality.

“Well forgive me,” Robin deadpans. “I only know like,” She gestures dramatically, trying to count in her head, “7 boys!”

May 1985

Immediately upon opening your eyes, you’re met with the blinding pain of your too big brain bouncing around inside your skull and a foreboding sense of dread upon recalling the way you behaved the night before.

You could only remember bits and pieces of the wretched night, but you were humiliated nonetheless. Had you said something you shouldn’t have? Your stomach churns at the thought and briefly you fear you might yak again.

A few weeks later, you were walking the stage, diploma in hand. Steve had broken up with Nancy Wheeler the week following prom. Feigning some bullshit about him leaving for college; not wanting to do long distance. Those cliche, overused excuses that everyone knows loosely translate to “I don’t love you anymore.”

Steve didn’t even get into tech, unbeknownst to Nancy. He was dodgy when you asked him about their breakup. “I just felt like we didn’t make sense anymore, you know? But it-” he sighed, “it’s just, it’s not like I could say that to her.”

You didn’t want to push the subject further, despite your bewilderment. Part of you felt desperately guilty at the idea that you may have been the catalyst for what happened to their relationship. You didn’t dare ask, though. Maybe you didn’t want to know, or maybe you just didn’t want to make it about yourself.

December 1987

The Wandering Dog was especially busy tonight. Folks trying to escape their in-laws for a few hours during the holiday season, college kids home for break trying to get wasted; and all of it was your problem. The pay was nice, you made good tips bartending. Right as you watch someone knock over an entire tray of drinks, a familiar head of hair makes its way to sit in front of you at the bar. Distracting, but not enough to suppress the groan that leaves your throat when it dawns on you that those drinks are your mess to clean up later.

“Steve-o,” you force a smile at him, “what can I do for ya on this..lovely evening?”

“Can’t a guy visit his favorite lady without needing a reason?” He lilts.

You try not to let on how flustered you feel at his usage of ‘favorite lady’.

“You hate this bar, you’re also technically banned-” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand “Still? Seriously? It was one time-” Your turn to interrupt, “No actually, year prior? That was your first warning.” You’re met with a roll of the eyes, forgetting how utterly sassy he’s become in the last few years. You can’t decide whether you love or hate the development.

“I actually uh,” he runs a hand through his hair- a nervous habit, “I wanted to ask you something,”. You look at him quizzically, unable to pinpoint what's caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Okay…” you draw out the last syllable, more confused than unkind. “Spill it Hairspray, you’re kind of freaking me out.” you give an awkward chuckle. Your friendship is hardly what you’d consider serious. Sure, you’ve had your share of late night, existential conversations; but you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve made the other actually nervous.

He clears his throat, “sorry yeah, sorry. I was wondering uh, ifyouwouldbemydatetojoyceandhopperswedding.”

The rest of his sentence comes out as one jumbled word. You do a double take when you finally process what he’s asking, and you choke a little on the Coke you were sipping. “What?-”

“-As friends!” he blurts loudly as his hands shoot out in front of him in a defensive gesture, “obviously, as friends. That’s- what I meant.” his words lose confidence every time he opens his mouth.

You stare for a little too long, mouth hanging open like a trout. “You don’t..already have a date?” You hope he doesn’t take offense to the inquiry. Steve Harrington can most certainly find a plus one to a simple wedding.

“Yeah I- something like that,” his mouth opens like he’s going to explain further before deciding against it; settling on a lopsided smile instead. He’s terrified he’s blown his cover. If he had given any effort at all to the endeavor, surely he would’ve been able to find a date. Fancy car, rich parents, million dollar smile and his infallible charm. The problem was that he didn’t want to go with another Heidi. Another Jessica. Another Stacy.

He wanted to go with you.

Even if it meant just as friends. You two were just friends.

Joyce and Hopper’s wedding was at Pokagon State Park, and the drive up was less than stellar. 3 hours stuffed inside a cramped BMW with Robin, Eddie, and Vickie. You were fortunate enough to be riding shotgun next to Steve for the trip, Eddie muttering something about ‘date privilege’.

When you arrived at the cabin you’d be sharing with your 4 friends, you were a little mortified. There was a room for Vickie and Robin, and Eddie claimed the pullout couch almost immediately. This leaves one more room. With one bed. For you and Steve Harrington. It’s possible Joyce may have misinterpreted the reality of your situation when booking the rooming accommodations.

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it. You guys had had sleepovers before, but almost never in the same bed. His house had a plethora of guest bedrooms, and your father would be found dead before he let a boy sleep in your room, even at the ripe age of 20.

We’re adults, you think. We can be mature about this.

There isn’t much time to dwell on it before you’re being stuffed by Robin into a too tight, wine red bridesmaid dress.

“I feel sick,” you say, groaning. “Do not barf on me,” she warns with a stern look, though you can tell she’s not really annoyed. “I really like these shoes.” Despite the itchy fabric of the dress and the obnoxiously loud color, you do look breathtakingly beautiful. Red has always been your color.

“Hey dingus! Stop gawking and zip me would you?” Robin lightly kicks you with her bare foot, taking you out of your own head. When you exit the bathroom, you’re immediately met with the 2 boys. Even Eddie, who you don’t believe you’ve ever seen not in ripped jeans, cleans up nice.

Steve looks…strapping. Not handsome in the boyish way you’re used to. He’s all slicked hair, cufflinks and well-pressed wool. He meets your gaze and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly. An arm is offered to walk you to his car. He smells like cinnamon and cedar, woodsy and spice. He opens the passenger door for you and God, he’s a gentleman.

It’s going to be a long night.

The venue was terribly charming. Floor to ceiling windows highlight the snow falling outside in big, fat flakes over the water. The room was lit entirely by yellow string lights, casting a permanent warm hue over the lodge.

On a table clad in lace, there were 5 notecards scribbled on in cursive ink. The one that adorned your name was directly adjacent to one that read Steve Harrington. They were paired with party favors wrapped neatly with a white silk bow.

Steve wanted to pull out your chair for you. He wanted to sit beside you with his hand in yours. Hell, he would’ve bought you a corsage if he thought it appropriate. A death by a thousand cuts; he was again reminded of the fact that you were not his, and he was not yours.

You were unable to identify the source of the nagging anxiety you felt. You were never partial to big gatherings like this, but the unease you were experiencing now was different. All you could do was relax, and try to enjoy the reception. Try not to pay mind to the stark, masculine presence sitting beside you.

The newlyweds’ first dance was to the beloved ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ By INXS. You think about how remarkably fitting a song it was for them and everything they had endured together. The restlessness you had previously felt started to steadily fade after that; laughing and chatting with your friends. It started to feel..normal, for a while.

Just then, like some sick esoteric joke, you hear the unmistakable beginning notes of ‘I’ll Be Over You’ by Toto. When you turn to your left, Steve has a poorly concealed, shit-eating grin on his face.

In the most sober tone he can muster through his unseriousness, he asks, “Can I have this dance?” while extending his hand to you. He prays you don’t notice it trembling slightly. It’s the undeniable corniness of his request that manages to strangle a laugh out of you.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

With one hand delicately placed on your hip, he threads the other one with your own fingers as he starts to sway. You clumsily try to match his rhythm; so nervous that you’re becoming uncoordinated. His chest is nearly touching yours, and your noses are a hairsbreadth apart. It feels profoundly intimate.

'as soon as forever is through, I'll be over you.'

He leans his head down so his lips just brush your ear as he whispers, “You okay?”

You scoff, unconvincingly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You know he can see right through you. It’s fruitless to try and deceive him.

“You just seem,” he gives your waist a small squeeze, “a little tense.” You swallow hard.

“Just say the word and I'll take you home.” ‘Home’ meaning back to the cabin. Not the comforting safety of your own bed back in Hawkins. You appreciate his earnestly either way.

“I know, Steve.” you lilt, trying to lighten the intensity of the moment with a teasing tone. You rest your head against his shoulder, if only so you don’t have to keep holding his all-consuming gaze.

Despite the thermostat being set at a comfortable 75 degrees, you were still shivering slightly. You always ran cold. You stood in front of a dusty vanity mirror trying to extend your arms behind your back far enough to unzip this godforsaken dress.

You felt him more than you saw him. Steve’s presence displaces the air in the room as one does to water when they sink down into a steaming bath: noticeably, and comfortably. You pay him no mind as you continue to struggle with the zipper. Mulling around the same room; busy with your separate tasks, this was familiar to you. Not often did you have to acknowledge the other for them to know you were grateful for their company.

“Need a hand with that?” he asks, slightly amused as he saunters over to you.

You hesitate for a moment before looking over your shoulder and offering him a shy smile, “Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind?” You know he doesn’t.

His scent envelopes you like a thick fog when he approaches you. His calloused fingers pinch the clasp and pull it down its tracks slowly. The sound is piercing in the quiet of your shared room; your senses dialed up to 11. You can feel his warm, freshly minty breath fan over your shoulders and the nape of your neck. Your arms erupt in goosebumps at the sensation.

He stands there, he realizes, longer than he needs to.

“Okay I’m gonna-” “There you go-” you both speak at the same time.

You huff an awkward breath of a laugh before you finish your thought, “I’m gonna..go change.” you throw a thumb behind you in the direction of the ensuite. “Right, yeah,” he shakes his head as if to escape his own thoughts; his turn to act shy.

Lying in bed, you’re suddenly grateful that Steve has always been something of a personal space heater. The warmth he radiates makes you want to curl into him, against your better judgment. The silence in the room is deafening; the only sounds to be heard are rhythmic breathing and the creaking of the ancient plumbing.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve’s voice is hoarse, no doubt from the boisterous singing he’d been doing earlier in the evening. Still, you’re grateful for the crack in the wall that's been plastered between you.

“I like secrets,”

“I hate weddings.”

The stiff fabric of the pillowcase crinkles as you turn your head to look at him.

“I am happy for them, it’s not that,” he starts, “it’s just, what if it’s never me up there ya know?” It’s not that he’s scared he’ll never marry; it’s that he’s scared he’ll never marry you.

You want to reach out for him then. Hold his face in your hands and tell him you understand. There are so many unspoken words between you. Things unsaid, but implied. The desire to yell and scream and confess how much you love him is overwhelming.

“Steve. You’re only twenty,” smiling lightheartedly, “there’s so much time for you. There are plenty of women out there that would be delighted to swear themselves to you for eternity. Believe me.” You chuckle and pretend like the reason you know that to be the truth isn’t because you’re one of them.

“I know, I know,” he brings a hand up to card through his bed mussed hair, “you’re right, it’s silly.”

“I didn’t say it was silly,” you elbow his side gently, consequently moving your body closer to his.

He doesn’t say anything then. Instead, his hand cautiously moves over the bed until it’s touching yours; intertwining your pinkies. He doesn’t breathe, as if any sudden movements might scare you like a frightened doe. If he breathes, you might remember you’re not supposed to be doing this.

“If we’re not married by the time we’re,” he pretends to ponder, “32, will you marry me?”

You laugh, the unexpected loudness of it making you cringe a little, “yes,”

“Promise?” He sounds deadly serious.

You tighten your pinky around his, “Promise.”

321 notes · View notes